| Why I Garden A reflective mini-essay collection for Earthly Comforts |
| I was asked recently by a client ‘Why did l garden?’ It’s a good question, so l thought l would address the reasons in this post. |
| The Quiet Work In a world that moves too fast, gardens move at the pace of honesty—unrushed and steady, revealing truths in their own time. Nothing here demands urgency. Nothing shouts. The work is quiet: pulling a weed, tying in a stem, brushing soil from a path. I garden because it’s one of the last places where slow, steady attention matters. In the garden, I remember how to breathe properly. I notice tiny changes—shifting leaf colours, the way the afternoon light falls. Quiet work keeps me grounded. It teaches me that life isn’t built in the big moments, but in these small, deliberate ones. |
| A Conversation With Nature Gardening isn’t a hobby; it’s a two-way conversation. The garden speaks in its own language—a wilt here, a bud there, a sudden flush of growth after rain. You respond. You adjust. You learn. The dialogue is endless, gentle, and humbling. Nature doesn’t obey you; it negotiates. And in those quiet negotiations, something softens inside you, too. You stop trying to control everything. You start to listen. |
| Traces of Time Modern life leaves little behind. Tasks vanish. Messages fade. But in a garden, everything becomes a trace of time. A plant added two years ago matures quietly for hundreds of days you weren’t watching. A corner once cleared now brims with life. I garden because it gives time a visible shape—marking each season and each stage of growth as something real and lasting. Here, time doesn’t disappear. It shows. |
| Care as a Practice There’s self-care, and then there’s care that moves beyond yourself. Gardening is the latter—a small, steady act of tending to something living. Watering. Pruning. Feeding. Sweeping. Every action is modest, but together they build rhythm, purpose, and meaning. Caring for a space gives shape to days and provides a gentle kind of accountability. It reminds me that even when life is overwhelming, I can always do a small good thing— And that’s enough. |
| Rewilding the Mind Gardens are beautifully imperfect. A crooked stem. A plant that seeds itself somewhere unexpected. The wild, untidy joy of life spreading where it pleases. I garden to let go a little—to embrace the natural, the unplanned, the wonderfully unruly. Perfection doesn’t survive long in a garden, and neither does the pressure to pursue it. A rewilded garden helps rewild the mind. |
| Belonging to a Place When you garden, you begin to understand a place in intimate detail. The soil’s personality. The quirks of the wind. Shadows that appear only at certain hours. Birds that claim the boundary hedges as their own. I garden because it makes me truly feel that I belong where I live. A garden roots you in your landscape— And in return, the landscape holds you differently, too. |
| Hope in Slow Motion Every seed is a quiet act of hope. You plant it without any guarantee. You trust the soil, the season, the weather, and time itself to do their part. I garden because hope becomes practical here—something you can touch, water, nurture, and wait for. Growth teaches patience. It teaches faith. Gardening is hope, unfolding in slow motion. |
| A Green Apprenticeship No gardener ever fully “arrives.” Nature changes. Seasons change. The garden changes. And so do you. I garden because I enjoy being a lifelong apprentice. There’s always a new lesson, a new mistake, a new surprise. Every year is different. Every plant is different. Every challenge brings something fresh. Gardening keeps me humble, curious, and engaged—a student of the green world. |
| A Way Back to Presence The garden is one of the few places where presence is non-negotiable. You can’t water yesterday’s drought or prune tomorrow’s overgrowth. You must be here—hands in soil, eyes on what’s in front of you. I garden because it brings me back to the present moment. It pulls me out of my head and back into my senses: scent, texture, colour, weather, breath. Presence grows here as surely as the plants themselves. |
| Because Gardens Make Us Human At the heart of it all, gardening reconnects us to something ancient. We are meant to tend, to nurture, to steward small pieces of the world. Gardens remind us of that instinct—the desire to create beauty, provide shelter, encourage life, and shape a place with care. I garden because it makes me feel truly human: part of the cycle, a participant rather than an observer. Gardens shape us just as much as we shape them. |
Earthly Comforts 
This is a lovely little essay. I don’t ‘garden’ but I understand why so many people are devoted to it.
Also – have you changed the background color? It seems lighter – much prettier and easier to read. Or that is that just me?
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Good morning Grace, many thanks. Good observation – Yes, the colours are now much lighter. I have been working on improving the ‘sage’ balance. This is the preferred colour hue now. All my literature for the business also match this colour. Still leans on the organic side, but much easier to read. Thank you. Gardening is a slice of sanity in a crazy world. truly wish l had discovered it properly when younger.
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I really like your reasons for gardening. A connection to outlet ancient roots is important and so it our continuing future.
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Very much so Sadje.
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👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼
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Beautiful post stating your reasons for gardening, Rory. I can tell by your tone you’re happy with what you do. I love your new color for your background.
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Thanks Eugenia, l do love what l do, it’s been a much tougher year has 2025 for many reasons, but that is what business growth is all about, everything if not challenge.
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You’re welcome, Rory.
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