Home gardening boom inspires plant adoption, specialized care services for leafy companions

Visual artist and "Plant Kindergarten" operator Baik Soo-hye's compact outdoor garden, nestled in Gongdeok-dong, Mapo District in western Seoul, abounds with some 150 potted plants, trees and herbs that were thrown out or left for dead in urban redevelopment zones across Seoul as their former owners were pushed out of their neighborhoods to make way for new apartment complexes. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

Houseplants are more than just decor for young, green-thumbed enthusiasts

By Park Han-sol

Take a trip through the winding labyrinth of alleyways in a slowly deteriorating section of Gongdeok-dong in Mapo District of western Seoul and you may come across an unexpected sanctuary.

Baik Soo-hye's compact outdoor garden abounds with some 150 potted plants, trees and herbs that were once thrown out or left for dead in urban redevelopment zones across Seoul as their former owners were pushed out of their neighborhoods to make way for new apartment complexes.

After rescuing the plants in her spare time from heaps of garbage, cracked concrete pavements and community gardens with clear signs of neglect, the 35-year-old, who works as a visual artist, "enrolls" them in what she calls her "Plant Kindergarten."

The name implies that her garden is not their forever home ― and for most of them, it isn't. In fact, her mission lies in nursing the abandoned flowers and herbs back to health and sharing their stories on social media so that they can be adopted by new families.

It's her way of giving a second chance to plants seen as "worthless" by their former owners and even traveling junk dealers, who are on the lookout for any item with even the slightest bit of monetary value, before they are razed to the ground like the rest of the neighborhood facing redevelopment.

After rescuing the abandoned plants from heaps of garbage, cracked concrete pavements and community gardens with clear signs of neglect, Baik Soo-hye nurses them back to health and shares their stories on social media so that they can be adopted by new families. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

Since she began her rescue mission two years ago, Baik has found new homes for nearly 300 potted plants found across Gongdeok-dong, Yeonhui-dong, Galhyeon-dong and Noryangjin-dong. An overwhelming number of their new owners are, she says, people in their 20s and 30s.

"I do think that the COVID-19 pandemic has propelled people to appreciate the presence of houseplants even more than before. They want to have something close by that they can cherish and interact with," she told The Korea Times in her garden on a cloudless morning last month. "And with things like 'planterior' (a portmanteau of plant and interior design) emerging as a growing trend, the hurdles to becoming plant parents have been lowered."

Such a culture involving plants has come to thrive in online communities and social media, especially among digitally savvy Millennials and Gen Z, Baik added.

In fact, hashtags like "plant butlers" or "pet plants" in Korean on Twitter and Instagram reveal hundreds of thousands of posts with images and videos shared by green-thumbed enthusiasts.

"It's difficult to know who identifies themselves as plant parents offline, since people don't usually travel outside their home with their potted plants," she wrote in her recently-published essay collection, "This is Gongdeok-dong Plant Kindergarten." "But online, it's rather easy ― since their accounts are filled with plant photos."

Baik Soo-hye recently published an essay collection titled "This is Gongdeok-dong Plant Kindergarten" (literal translation), which chronicles her two-year mission to find new homes for nearly 300 potted plants littered across Gongdeok-dong, Yeonhui-dong, Galhyeon-dong and Noryangjin-dong in Seoul. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

Sharing images of their growing "leafy babies" and exchanging care tips has helped these community members build connections even without seeing each other in person. And for Baik, social media was what allowed her to find most of the new homes for her rescued plants.

"The plants I save from Seoul's redevelopment zones are not really the species that sell well in nurseries or those that are in fashion like monsteras or begonias," she noted, pointing at rows of potted plantain lilies, mugwort, stonecrops, rockfoils, lily turf and chrysanthemums in her garden.

"Despite this, more and more people have been showing an interest in adopting them because they found the plants' backgrounds, which I shared online, to be fascinating."

As her rescue mission continued to gain traction on social media, Baik decided to host the plant kindergarten's first-ever "graduation ceremony" at the end of April. Potential adopters were invited to come to her studio in central Seoul to see in person all the plants that were ready for new owners and chat with fellow green-thumbed aficionados.

"We had a lot of fun that day," she recalled, revealing her plan to turn the ceremony into a recurring event starting this year.

A center dedicated to treating houseplants opened its doors inside the Seoul Agricultural Technology Center in Seocho District, southern Seoul, in April. The facility offers free diagnosis, treatment and expert consultation for ailing leafy patients. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

With the number of young plant owners continually rising in Korea, more state-run institutions have also jumped on the bandwagon to provide special services catering to their needs.

At the Seoul Botanic Park in Gangseo District of western Seoul, people can each check out one small bag of seeds from a curated selection for free ― much like borrowing a book from a library ― and can return the seeds harvested from their new plants at any time of the year. While it is not mandatory to return this "loan," if done, the types and quantities of seeds that can be checked out in the future can be increased.

There is even a "medical center" dedicated to treating houseplants in Seocho District, southern Seoul, which opened its doors in April inside the Seoul Agricultural Technology Center.

The facility serves as a hospital for pet plants by offering free diagnosis, treatment and expert consultation ― including repotting, fertilization, propagation, pest control, soil replacement and many other things.

"Just as veterinary clinics provide medical services for pet animals that have fallen ill, this is a place where sick pet plants can receive proper care from specialists," Jin Woo-yong, director of the center's technology extension division, told The Korea Times.

Jin Woo-yong, director of the technology extension division of the Seoul Agricultural Technology Center, left, speaks with Lee Jin-gyeong, an office worker in her 30s, who brought her olive tree in as the first patient of the day to the plant hospital, May 11. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

Jin Woo-yong, right, director of the technology extension division of the Seoul Agricultural Technology Center, provides tips to Lee Jin-gyeong, a visitor to the center, for propagating a rosemary plant starting with root cutting at the plant hospital, May 11. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk

On May 11, the hospital's first patient of the day was an olive tree, which was less than a year old. With completely dried-up leaves and stems, it showed no signs of life.

After careful inspection, Jin, the plant doctor, confirmed its death. But that wasn't where the consultation ended.

He went on to provide extensive tips to the tree's owner, Lee Jin-gyeong, an office worker in her 30s, for maintaining proper room temperature, assessing the light in her home and keeping a watering schedule ― so that her next plant won't suffer the same fate. Lee eventually left the hospital after adopting a new potted rosemary shrub.

"Every case we treat is never quite the same, of course," Jin said as he sat down to take a look at the next patient ― a wilting emerald tree, which turned out to be infected with spider mites. This time, he prescribed an organic, homemade pesticide made with egg yolk and cooking oil.

Since its opening, the overwhelming number of visitors that the center has seen are those in their 20s and 30s, according to the director.

"There seems to be a generational difference in terms of how people view houseplants," he said. "Typically, to the older generation, they're just one of many plants simply brought inside from the field or outdoor garden. But the young people consciously regard the plants and shrubs more as their companions, which they need to nurture."

Therefore, it is not unusual to see these young plant parents form a personal emotional bond with their flowers and herbs, he added. And Baik, as a plant rescuer, is not an exception in this sense.

Her experience of being marginalized as an Asian woman while living in the United Kingdom and Canada for nine years has profoundly influenced her sense of connection with abandoned plants.

"Just as my very existence there was considered invisible, abandoned plants across Seoul's redevelopment areas have been treated with the same neglect and apathy," she noted. "But plants don't care about any of that; they just grow and grow, being true to themselves and doing the best they can to survive another day. They have taught me how to live a life."

Baik Soo-hye aims to give plants, seen as "worthless" by their former owners, a second chance before they are razed to the ground like the rest of her neighborhood facing redevelopment. Korea Times photo by Choi Won-suk