I decided to plant a garden
I decided to plant a garden. Like, an edible kitchen garden, with apple trees and herbs and radishes and peas. But also, wildflowers. Lots of wildflowers.
There are three main problems with my plan:
I have literally zero idea how to do any of it. I grew up in a high rise block of flats in a city, and no one in my family has ever been particularly green-fingered; dedicated book worm urban dwellers all. I'm known for even managing to kill a cactus. Yes, it's that bad.
Both myself and my teen are deathly afraid of bees and other buzzing creatures; he probably more than I am… at the same time he finds squeaking silk moth (search it!) adorable whereas I’d probably die of a heart attack if I found it in my bathroom. I want to help the bees though, so I’m working on my fear.
It’s only me and there’s so much to do inside and outside the house still. When will I find the time?!
Those problems notwithstanding, I've been noticing the slow but steady pull towards the earth lately. Maybe it's me turning 45, half my life pretty much behind me.
Or maybe it's because tending to plants is the antidote to the multiple crises we are living through. Or maybe it's the poetic words of Robin Wall Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass that I had in my ears for the past few weeks. I never heard anyone talk about plants this way before.
Or maybe it’s Siân Davey’s Garden that inspired me to tend to my neglected back garden and make something wonderful of it. Or maybe it’s my clever friend V whose allotment experiments finally rubbed off on me.
Or maybe it’s me wanting to spite my new neighbours who really do seem to hate trees and love plastic grass. Or maybe it’s the slow realisation that I better learn how to grow food and make things because the way things are going we’ll all need it, and soon.
It’s probably all of the above in equal measure, but it really doesn’t matter. All I know is that I am aching to dig the soil, grow things, and get hot and sweaty and tired in the process. Away from the doomscroll of it all.
So, I went out and bought two apple trees. When I texted my mum to share this birthday gift to myself, she responded with “at last!”; it’s been a long time coming but it seems that I finally grew into it.
It’s now been a few days and I haven’t planted them yet.
They are sitting in their pots as I move them around the garden, trying to decide on the best forever spot for them, trying to imagine how the flowers will grow and what other plants I’ll introduce, and where the path would be (right now it’s all just grass with a couple of pretty unkempt borders). I’m finding it hard to envision the end result but it’s all part of the process, I know it. You can only plan so much - the nature will always do its thing anyway.
It’s thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. My ADHD brain and my autistic brain fight each other. Impulsivity and trying things out versus wanting needing to know exactly what’s going to happen.
I know this feeling well. It’s a bit like starting a business or a new photography project.
The scariest thing to do is to start.
The most difficult, is to know which questions to ask, because sometimes you just don’t know what you don’t know.
“Trust the process” they say.
Sometimes, it’s easier said than done. Does the process know we are trusting it?
Things you might be interested in:
Book a mentoring session with me; April is my birthday month (I turn 45, eek!) so I’m experimenting with offering short 45 minute “pick my brain” sessions for £45 (available in the month of April only).
If you’re in London or Surrey (or nearby), book a family or a business photoshoot with me.
Buy Beauty Hunting, my photography book about walking, mindfulness, healing and finding beauty in the most unlikely places;
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