🪴 HOW TO & TIPS
The quiet overachiever
Here's a confession to open October with: if I had to keep only one genus of plant for the rest of my life, it might just be the Philodendron.
And I suspect that surprises you. Because the Philodendron is not the plant anyone brags about. It's not the Monstera everyone photographs, or the Alocasia people queue up to spend silly money on, or the variegated unicorn that gets its own Instagram following. The humble green Philodendron just sits there in the corner, getting on with it.
Which is precisely why I love it. It's the quiet overachiever of the plant world. Unassuming at a glance, completely captivating once you actually get close. Easy enough that a total beginner can't really go wrong, yet deep enough that you can spend years learning to grow it properly. That's a rare combination, and it's exactly what makes it my Plant of the Month.
But "easy" doesn't mean "no technique." There's a reason some people's Philodendrons explode into glossy, dinner-plate magnificence while others stay small and stringy. So here are three things that separate the two, all about depth and attention rather than fuss.
🧗 Know your type: climber or crawler
This is the one everyone gets wrong, and it's the root of most Philodendron disappointment.
There are two very different kinds of Philodendron, and treating one like the other is a fast track to sulking leaves.
Climbers (heartleaf, micans, melanochrysum and the like) grow upward in the wild, hauling themselves up tree trunks and gripping on with aerial roots. Give them something to climb and they reward you: bigger leaves, thicker stems, an altogether more grown-up looking plant. Leave them with nothing to climb and they stay stuck in a juvenile form, small leaves, long leggy gaps between them, forever trailing rather than thriving.
Crawlers (the showstoppers like gloriosum and mamei) do the opposite. They creep horizontally, their thick rhizome inching across the soil surface. These do not want a pole. In fact, trying to force a crawler like gloriosum to climb is one of the quickest ways to rot its stem. What they want is a wide, shallow pot with room to spread sideways.
So before anything else: watch which way your plant wants to go. If it's reaching up and throwing out aerial roots, it's a climber. If it's trying to crawl out over the rim of the pot, it's a crawler. Match your support to its nature and half the battle's won.
💧 Support it properly (a dry pole does nothing)
Say you've got a climber. You pop it against a moss pole, job done? Not quite.
A dry moss pole is about as useful as a chocolate teapot. The whole point is that the aerial roots grow into damp moss and anchor there, which is what triggers the bigger, more mature growth. Bone-dry moss gives them nothing to grab, and the roots just wither at the tip.
So keep the pole lightly moist. For day-to-day upkeep, a little water bottle dripper at the top does the trick. For a proper refresh, take the whole plant to the shower or garden and soak the pole and leaves thoroughly, then finish with a feed so roots in both the soil and the moss get fed.
One honest caveat, because I'd rather tell you straight: a moss pole improves form, it doesn't perform miracles. If your climber is leggy because it's sitting in a dark corner, a pole won't fix that, light will. Get the light right first, then let the pole do its job of bulking up the leaves. The pole is the finishing touch, not the foundation.
🫁 Give the roots oxygen, not just water
Here's the one that surprises people most. With Philodendrons, poor airflow around the roots causes more quiet misery than overwatering does. The roots don't just need moisture, they need to breathe, and dense, compacted soil suffocates them.
The fix is a chunky aroid mix: regular potting mix loosened up with bark and perlite, so there are proper air pockets throughout. Pot with drainage holes, always. Water deeply, let it drain completely, then wait until the top layer's dry before you go again.
Little bonus move: every so often, gently fluff up the top few centimetres of soil with your fingers to keep air moving through it. Healthy, well-aerated roots give you steady, predictable growth, which is all any of us really want from a plant.
Three small shifts, and your overlooked corner Philodendron quietly becomes the best-looking thing in the room. Which, if you ask me, is the most satisfying kind of plant there is.
