YYou may remember when I brought home my Fiddle Leaf Fig last year. It arrived full and green and, aside from a few brown edges, looked healthy. It filled the corner of the family room beautifully and made me feel both stylish and somewhat accomplished at plant care.
Within a few weeks, however, it began to decline—classic of every houseplant I seem to own.
Or at least I thought I had ruined it.
Kind readers offered advice and encouragement, sending helpful tips and diagnoses. Friends and fellow plant-lovers weighed in with suggestions and sympathy.
Still, the plant continued to deteriorate until it had nearly lost all its leaves and looked more like a stick in a pot than the lush specimen it once was.
There. I said it.
People noticed the empty corner in the family room and emailed to ask what had happened to the Fig. I admitted I had moved it outside to enjoy the warm summer sun—and then promptly forgot about it.
I didn’t water it. I didn’t check on it. It sat around the corner of the yard, out of sight for most of the summer. I assumed it was dead and began quietly searching for a replacement, much like the way my sister and I replaced childhood goldfish whenever one vanished: a new fish named Jill would appear and life went on.
Then, while I was out of town in the fall, my husband texted a photo of our gravel patio progress. In the background of that picture I noticed something I hadn’t seen before: a small, green presence in the far corner. It was the same Fig—alive with leaves.
Apparently our helpers had moved it to the back corner of the yard while working on the patio, and it had recovered while I wasn’t paying attention.
I was surprised and relieved. I told everyone a tidy story about how it was thriving in the sun and had been outdoors to recuperate. In truth, I left it out until mid-fall, then decided it should come inside for winter care. I brought it into the brightest spot in our house—although in Washington “bright” still means limited winter sun.
You may have seen it back in the corner of the living room recently. It’s alive, but it’s a shadow of its former self: leggy and a bit scrawny, doing its best to hang on.
On close inspection some leaves are brown, scaly and crispy, and they sometimes drop off. It’s hard not to feel guilty—part of me thinks the plant would prefer to be outside in the sun rather than stay under my questionable care.
So that’s the full story of our Fiddle Leaf Fig. I wish I could say it’s a lush, thriving houseplant, but for now that’s not the case. I may start over with a new plant, or possibly live plant-free for a while. I do love houseplants and would really like to keep them alive!
Has anyone managed to keep a Fiddle Leaf Fig thriving in their home for more than a year?