When I was a teenager, I regularly bought girly magazines. My favorites were the glossy and glamorous monthlies like 'Mademoiselle' and 'Young Lady.' One issue (I think it was from 2005) included a horoscope that shared which hobby suited a particular zodiac sign best. By the way, I'm a Taurus (if you couldn’t tell). My horoscope said that gardening was the perfect occupation for me. At that time, I wasn't too fond of our kitchen garden and didn't care about indoor plants. Maybe, I had a cactus on my windowsill, but that's it.

Fifteen years have passed. Not that I believe in horoscopes, but over 40 diverse plants currently occupy my apartment. Ficus Benjamina, Venus flytrap, Crassula, Maranta, Aglaonema, Sansevieria, and other masterpieces of nature are my close friends now. I even have four tomato plants growing on my balcony.

I’m not particularly eager to purchase plants that are already large, healthy adults; instead, I enjoy raising them from tiny sizes. I continue to give names to my green friends: Keanu Leaves, William Golding, Rincewind, Tequila, Leon, and others.

I tend to buy one more plant each month. I've even established a strict rule: one salary=one plant. If I don't follow this rule, my home will too quickly turn into a dense jungle.

Where did it all start?

I guess it was Ficus Benjamina. My best friend Yulia gave me this beautiful plant for my birthday in 2017. I named him Nathaniel, as this ficus is also called 'Natasha' in my country (I don't know whether it's the same in your country).

At the very beginning, it was basically an infant, only 10 centimeters tall and sporting but a few leaves, and now Nathaniel is a healthy growing boy over 60 centimeters high. The Internet says that Ficus Benjamina can grow up to 30 meters. At least, I would like to see Nathaniel outgrow me.

Nathaniel accompanied me to all four of my rented apartments during the past six years.

On February 24, the russians attacked Kyiv. I remember waking up to an explosion, the most undesirable alarm clock in this life. We heard the crashing of bombs outside the windows and felt the earth shaking. The walls of the apartment were trembling, and I didn't know what to do or what to grab. Twenty-four hours later, I was forced to evacuate, packing only documents and medicines to take with me. I left my cozy apartment, lovingly decorated, and my indoor garden behind, unsure when or if I would return.

As it turned out, I came back on April 15, when the Armed Forces of Ukraine kicked the orcs' asses out of here. It was pleasant to be home again but strange at the same time. All my things seemed alien. I walked around the kitchen and marveled at my pans, pots, and multi-cooker.

Then I decided to check my home garden. Nathaniel didn't get any water during this period and dropped all his leaves. This was how I found him: Abandoned, naked, in the dead silence of an empty apartment without understanding what was happening and what to do. If plants could think, maybe Nathaniel was scared, sat every day inside a dark uncertainty, wondering whether someone would come back to him, water him, or whether it was the end.

Honestly, I thought he had completely dried up. But, since hope springs eternal, I started watering and spraying a fine mist over him anyway. Lo and behold, tiny sprouts appeared in a few weeks. It inspired me a lot. Nathaniel was reviving, and so was I after months of numbness from the horrors of this war. The ficus appears excellent now, and a lush green dress covers it.

I like to touch Nathaniel’s leaves: Emerald or light green, high-gloss and gentle. Actually, I start each morning with a walk around my home garden. I water the plants, trim the dead leaves, fertilize the soil, and even pay compliments to each new verdant sprout. I guess the horoscope told the truth. And do you believe in zodiac predictions?