You might remember when I brought home my Fiddle Leaf Fig last year. It arrived full and glossy, and apart from a few brown spots and some edge damage, it looked great. It filled the corner of our family room, gave the space a fresh, modern vibe, and made me feel like I had a green thumb.
Then, as seems to happen with every plant I own, I neglected it.
Kind readers reached out with helpful tips and troubleshooting ideas. Concerned plant lovers compared notes and offered diagnoses. Still, the plant continued to decline until it had almost no leaves left. It looked like nothing more than a stick in a pot.
People noticed the empty corner in the family room and emailed asking where the fig had gone. I was honest: I told them I set it outside to enjoy the warm summer sun. The truth is, once it was outside I more or less forgot about it. I didn’t water it, I didn’t check on it, and it sat out of sight for most of the summer. I assumed it was gone.
Not wanting to dwell on the disappointment, I started to look for a replacement — which brought back memories of childhood pets. My sister and I had goldfish and when one floated belly-up we’d distract each other while a new fish took its place. The important thing, in my sister’s world, was that JILL NEVER DIED. I found myself treating plants the same way: replace and move on.
Then, while I was out of town in the fall, my husband texted a photo of the progress on our gravel patio. Hidden in the back corner of the yard was a tiny surprise: the same Fiddle Leaf Fig — alive. My husband had moved the pot while work was underway, and somehow the plant had recovered enough to grow new leaves. I could hardly believe it.
I played it cool when I saw the photo, saying it was doing wonderfully and that I had “meant to” leave it outside for sun and recovery. In mid-fall I brought it back inside to shelter it for winter. We don’t get a lot of sun where we live, but I moved it to the brightest spot I could offer.
Now it’s back in the corner of the living room. It’s alive, but not flourishing. It’s a shadow of its former self: lanky and sparse, struggling to regain its former fullness.
On closer inspection some leaves are brown, scaly and crispy, and they sometimes drop. I suspect the plant would prefer to be back outside when the weather is warm — it seems better suited to brighter conditions than my indoor spot provides. Whatever the cause, it’s clearly fighting to survive.
So that’s the whole story of my Fiddle Leaf Fig: it had a dramatic decline, an unexpected outdoor recovery, and a tentative return indoors. I wish I could report a thriving, full-bodied plant, but this one remains a work in progress. I may try again with a new plant, or maybe embrace a plant-free phase — though I do love having greenery in the house.
Has anyone kept a Fiddle Leaf Fig thriving indoors for more than a year?