I am the least "woo" person ever. I do however talk to my houseplants, only semi-ironically.
When I lived with my alcoholic, unpleasant exH, in a big house with a conservatory, I walked on eggshells because of his moods and drinking. I was unhappy and anxious, and my house plants died within weeks. ExH liked to dig at me about this, insinuating that my inability to keep plants alive was on a par with my inability to keep the house clean, or anything else.
We split up. I now live in a much smaller house with my kind, loving, decent DP, and the house plants are thriving. Like, a bad throw in Jumanji thriving. I've had to stop buying plants because they are all doing so well.
Is it silly to think that my plants are happier because I'm happier?