I Moved at Lightning Speed in Search of a Rapidly Growing Pothos

I have this dream of a gardening life where, before I know it, the vines have grown and grown, and the leaves are sprouting everywhere...

The ivy I brought into the fold, expecting it to be a fast-growing type, hasn't really been that way.

It's not that it isn't growing, but in my mind, I wouldn't call this growing rapidly. It's a bit of a letdown, that ivy.

"Oh my! You've grown so big!"

I want to experience this with a plant, not from the perspective of a grandparent, but from the perspective of a housemate. You get it, right? You get it? I'll continue.

It seems the plant that can grant this wish is the pothos.

When it comes to the rapid-growth tribe, monsteras aren't half bad either, but what I'm looking for isn't giant size. I want to feel the rapid growth of vines stretching out and out while leaves multiply. And if I'm lucky, I want to occasionally trim them and put them in a vase. This is a line of thinking that doesn't seem to come from someone who just read a children's book about thinking about quality time, but I don't care.

In that sense, maybe I'm aiming for the grandparent role, not just the "Oh my! When did you get so big?" side, but the "Oh my! When did you get so many grandchildren..." side. Pothos, post, whatever.

So, once I decide I want something, I head straight to the home center. If I'm going to demand speed from a plant, the owner has to respond with a corresponding speed.

When I got home, I went out to the balcony, laid out some newspaper, and repotted it immediately.

There.

Finally, soil has arrived in my room.

Grow thick and lush. It's fine if you wrap around everywhere. Just let me snip some off for my vases once in a while.

Come to think of it, apparently it's bad luck in Feng Shui to keep pothos in the bedroom. Are you like the dried flowers too? An unemployed person forging the most cursed, bad-luck-filled bedroom. It's crazy. Oh well. You're cute, so it's fine. I'll clean up a lot, so please forgive me.

Oh right, I heard it helps with fungus gnats, so I spread some akadama soil on the surface. I really hate the idea of fungus gnats appearing indoors.

The goal was to deal with fungus gnats, but just by sprinkling akadama soil on the surface, it somehow took on a cafe-like look. It's like starting strength training for health and suddenly becoming super popular. I'm jealous that just a bit of soil can make it look so chic.

I don't have a photo from before it got chic, though. If you want to go viral for a glow-up, you should take photos when you're still a mess.

Speaking of photos from when you're a mess.

Lately, there are so many fungus gnats on the balcony. I have a feeling the source is the overly spacious mansion of my Zinnia Junior. Damn damp potting soil.

I spread some akadama soil here too. For this one, I can post before-and-after photos.

Isn't it cute? I don't know why, but isn't it cute? Isn't akadama soil on the surface great? Doesn't it make you want to ask for their LINE? Is it just me?

Akadama soil is cheaper if you buy it at a home improvement store, but the quantity is just... It's enough to start a farm. For our home without a garden, the 100-yen shop size is just right.

And while I don't mind you getting cocky because you're popular, please also do your job with the fungus gnats. That's the real goal, after all.

When I was a company employee, a boss once told me something like, 'You tend to want results too quickly.'

At the time, I would sulk and think, 'Huh? Because if I don't move now, it's something that will never move at all.'

Admittedly, I'm not very good at long battles where the future is uncertain. I'm not the type who can spend years and years slowly, slowly working away only to realize, 'Oh, I've come this far!' Unfortunately. And I was also bad at moving at the pace of a corporate organization. It's slow. It's just too slow.

Perhaps because of that nature, I love the periwinkles that bloom profusely every single day, and I might be doing this crazy gardening where I occupy three whole pots with periwinkles in my limited balcony space.

That said. That said, though. I diligently take care of lavender and Supachan (Geranium) which spend most of their lives without flowers, and I'm even growing zinnias from seeds. I kept sending thoughts of regeneration to the marigold without giving up hope until the very end.

Despite all the talk, I do actually follow through on things that don't yield immediate results. Did you see that, boss? No, don't look, boss. The idea of my former boss reading my note is just too awful. Please, absolutely do not look at it.

Finally, I would like to wrap up this story with some pot-au-feu for dinner.

I wanted to write this article at lightning speed yesterday while the momentum was still there, but I spent all my energy on the pothos and ended up falling asleep at lightning speed.

Fear the most wicked bedroom.

Still, it's scary how I was just complaining about water lilies growing nothing but weeds in my previous article, and now I'm desperate to grow weeds myself. I'm too much of a split personality. I'm like a manager whose instructions keep changing.

Water lilies are meant to bloom, so I end up having expectations. It's the water lilies' fault for not being plants meant to grow lushly in the first place. No, the water lilies did nothing wrong.

Are you emotionally unstable?
I am perfectly normal!

Wrap it up with the pot-au-feu! That's a terrible ending!!

The end