When Jeremy and I started turning our renovation efforts to the outside of our little ranchalow, I was dreaming big. I imagined beautiful, blossoming foliage and perfect plants that would rival the gardens at Versailles. I wanted peonies, hydrangeas, and exotic lilies that would attract monarch butterflies and magical little winged fairies, and to be perfectly honest with you I don’t think that heart shaped hedges and swan topiaries were really too much to ask for.
There was a time at the height of my delusion where I ever imagined lounging next to a solar-lit Koi pond, next to my Zen sand garden, sipping a Singapore Sling garnished with hibiscus that I had grown from a seedling. This fantasy goes on to include foot rubs and shirtless Greek gardeners, but my Mom reads this blog, so let’s just nip that one in the bud, shall we?
See how I throw plant-related idioms around with ease? Do I sound like a natural? Oh my God, I think so too!
Sadly, I am not, which brings me to the problem with my fantasy: everything green and bountiful withered and dies within days of falling under my care. This is hardly a new occurrence – my mother has long been rescuing withered African violets and leafless Pothos plants from my inept supervision.
You think it would be rather easy. You buy a plant, you read that little white tab that they stick into the soil that tells you how much sun and how much water. You follow the instructions, and they you reap the rewards of a lawn that should be on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. My plants wouldn’t even make it to the back page of Sort of Okay, Not Great But At Least Not Dead Homes and Gardens.
What’s my issue? I have no idea. Everything, I guess. I water too much, and then I overcompensate by watering to little. I accidentally starve my plants of sunlight because I think they brighten up my dark corners, and then I stick the ones that grow best in the shade right on my windowsill. I will never, ever achieve Koi pond status at this rate, not to mention the gardener.
In all honesty though, I would settle for a couple of healthy houseplants, some pretty rosebushes, a can of cold beer sans hibiscus garnish, and my husband mowing the lawn in a dirty t-shirt and a pair of jeans from 1992 that barely cover his butt crack.
That’s why I was so psyched to review Aqua Globes. Perfectly watered plants? Just fill and press it in? I can DO that. I think.
Although the Aqua Globe informercial offers up four globes for $19.99 (plus S & H, natch) I snagged a set of two for a mere $6.99 (at Best Buy, of all places) and did the Happy Dance, while driving, all the way home. You know the last time spending $6.99 made me so happy? Probably when I was eight years old and I used the money my Dad gave me to buy milk and juice at the corner store to buy 140 Now & Laters. That happiness was short lived, when I came home and told my Dad what I’d done, but the happiness of my Aqua Globe purchase could last a lifetime.
For one thing, they really are pretty. As you can see from the infomercial, the globes don’t exactly blend in with the decor of your home, unless it’s decorated in primary colors like the set of Romper Room, but they are nice. They’re hand blown glass, and to be honest they remind me of something that one of my stoner hippie friends would have smoked weed out of in college. Ah, memories.
I decided to use my globes on two of my problem plants: a large chrysanthemum I keep on the patio outside, and a large Christmas cactus in my living room. They’re prefect test subjects because my mum is dangerously under-watered (ie: if there is even the slightest chance of rain, I let nature take its course) and my cactus is a victim of my undivided attention. I often go to water it just to have it overflow from being super-saturated. I know, it’s a cactus. It thrives in dry climates. Like I said, I suck at this.
The directions for the Aqua Globe are simple – first create a hole in the soil of your plant (pressing the globe into the soil could cause it to hit a root or the side a container, causing it to shatter), watering the soil to soften it if necessary. The rocky soil of the cactus was a little tough to carve out, but the mum was a breeze. I filled the globes, pressed them into the soil, and waited.
The next day, the globe was completely drained in the mum. Poor, thirsty little sucker. I almost shed a tear once I realized how neglected he really was. I was also a little afraid I’d been bamboozled by the Aqua Globe. Afraid that the globe had simply leaked instead of releasing the water as needed, I checked the ground underneath the pot and it was completely dry, but the soil was moist. So far so good. I reloaded, reinserted, and waited some more. A week later, both of the plants look fabulous, the globes are about half empty, and I didn’t even feel guilty when they called for rain that didn’t materialize. It’s a win for me, and a big win for the flora in my life.
I don’t know if the Aqua Globes will stand the test of time, but I know that they are working brilliantly so far. In fact (and this is a We Took The Bait FIRST…) I’m even thinking about going out to buy some of these adorable Aqua Globes Mini for some of the smaller plants in our house.
If you’re one of those annoying lucky people who was born with a green thumb, you probably won’t need Aqua Globes. However, if you’re horticulturally challenged and really bad at guesswork like I am, then they’re well worth the money. I never thought I’d say this, but an As Seen On TV product has not only convinced me that there is a God, but that he does in fact love me. I guess you could say I’m a born-again consumer.
Where to Buy: Aqua Globes at Asseenontvandmore.com
Why does the shirtless gardener have to be Greek?: Why not?