In 2020, my partner and I became enthusiastic first-time gardeners. We purchased a compact two-foot by eight-foot raised garden bed, setting it up on our deck just outside the back door. It was our inaugural attempt at growing our own food, and as the saying goes, “A pandemic can spark creativity.”
Our initial lessons came with heartbreak: we started our seeds indoors and, when they required larger pots, we placed them in the garage under flimsy grow lights we had ordered online. The following morning, we rushed to check on our precious seedlings, only to be met with a disheartening sight. Every single one had been devoured.
We had planted over a hundred seedlings, and within a day, we discovered that a family of voles had infiltrated the garage, leaving no trace behind. Our modest 2020 gardening efforts gave us the motivation for bigger plans in 2021.
Eventually, our first season turned out moderately successful; we enjoyed fresh romaine lettuce and zucchini that summer, though our tomato plants only began to bloom just as the frost arrived. With 2021 on the horizon, we decided to embrace a cut flower garden. We meticulously mapped out plans for Colorado-friendly flowers in three additional raised beds we intended to build ourselves. We even created spreadsheets with color-coded graphics to outline different plant zones.
However, as I delved into the intricate details of planting, growing, and harvesting living organisms, I felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of specific requirements involved. One of the first revelations was the significance of soil health in gardening—a connection I had never made before. I learned that even house plants need to be repotted annually; every spring, you should replace 25% of the soil with fresh compost. This season, I followed expert advice for the first time, and my plants thrived, sprouting new shoots and leaves.
Growing flowers and vegetables also requires regular fertilizing. I discovered that fertilizers come in various types, each tailored to the specific pH levels needed by different plants. Upon this realization, I understood that my spreadsheet needed a complete overhaul because I had unknowingly planned to plant flowers with entirely different nitrogen and pH requirements side by side.
To complicate matters further, each plant had unique needs for both horizontal and vertical space. Some required special supports to prevent them from collapsing under their weight. And then there was the issue of watering; I had to revise my original sketches when I realized we didn’t have enough space to accommodate their varying watering needs. Some flowers thrive with daily watering, others prefer a light mist, and some will wilt dramatically if their leaves get wet at all.
It was during this experience that I recognized a glaring flaw in my self-care routine. I found myself frustrated by the amount of effort a single flower demanded. In that moment, I asked myself, what’s the alternative? The answer was sobering: to neglect it altogether.
Deep down, I yearned for a flourishing flower garden that required minimal thought beyond once or twice a month. Clearly, my expectations didn’t match the reality of nurturing anything, let alone a cut flower garden that I hoped would yield enough blooms for local bouquets.
Gardening offers profound lessons for personal growth and self-care. Reflecting on my past roles as a writer and editor, I recalled how often creatives were placed in uninspiring environments, expected to produce exceptional work. I remembered nurses I encountered who, despite facing daily disdain from supervisors, made life-and-death decisions.
Cultivating life in the garden is fraught with challenges, but neglecting those needs leads to clear consequences: a plant either thrives or it dies. When a plant’s health declines, the surrounding plants are likely affected too, even if the damage isn’t immediately visible.
I began to wonder how often we disengage from our own well-being, expecting everything to turn out fine without effort. I recalled my father’s experience in the late ’90s, working for a company indifferent to the well-being of their field technicians. He spent sweltering days in a van without air conditioning, climbing into attics under extreme heat, with no support or hydration provided.
Imagine if a gardener treated their crops the same way—those plants would never survive. Yet, we often allow ourselves to be treated as expendable. How many times have I participated in projects or communities that valued people only for their utility? Too many, I fear.
If nature rejects the idea that plants can flourish despite neglect, why do we not apply the same understanding to ourselves?
As the 2021 growing season winds down, I see gardening in a new light. It’s an underappreciated endeavor, especially among city dwellers like me. I was raised with the notion that food comes from farms, not grocery stores, yet I had no idea how much science, strategy, and intuition go into gardening. I am humbled by the dedication of gardeners and farmers and will carry this gratitude forward.
I also realize that I expect things in my life to thrive without investing genuine effort into them. This could be a protective mechanism, or perhaps even laziness. Yet, I suspect my garden is teaching me a crucial lesson: everything in this world is interconnected.
The well-being of one plant impacts the root systems of others. When we neglect our own health, we unintentionally affect those around us. In a workplace where employees feel overworked and undervalued, everyone’s morale and productivity suffer.
What if we treated ourselves—and one another—with the same care and attention we give to our gardens? Imagine the possibilities for growth if we embraced the interconnectedness of our lives.
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