Me, Myself, and I: In The Garden

How I got into gardening

I am relatively new to gardening, having only started in the autumn of 2021 when my wife and I bought our bungalow. Prior to the purchase of our new home, we lived an arboreal lifestyle in a flat with no garden, and I can’t say that this bothered me until the pandemic struck. So, under lockdown, with limited options to get fresh air we often headed to the in-laws to spend time in their garden (when the government allowed). Sitting in their perfumed garden full of roses, jasmines, and lavenders, with borders full of flowering shrubs and stunning perennials with the loveliest palette of colours, and an area for growing fruit and veg, it felt as if I was sitting in a scene from a Beatrix Potter book, waiting for a blue coated rabbit to come dashing out of the shed with a swag bag full of carrots like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at the OK Corral. I think it's fair to say that my in-laws were my gardening inspiration.

The lockdowns were when the isolation kicked in and I felt as trapped as Odysseus on the island of Ogygia. However, like Odysseus, I was freed from my captivity – thanks to my wife’s tenacity and house hunting skills - and we landed on the shores of our new home, a 50s bungalow with a garden that can only be described as a wilderness. However, we now had our own sanctuary of which – in theory, but far from – was a blank canvas to create our own quintessential British cottage garden for us to spend our leisure time.

The trials of a novice

This is where my idealistic delusions were brought crashing down by the reality of the task ahead of me. The first year of working in our garden can only be compared to that of the Herculean labours. Hercules may have had to face the Neiman lion and a nine-headed hydra, but this was nothing in contrast to the 12 trials I experienced as a novice gardener: bindweed, horsetail, compacted clay soil, aphids, root eating grubs, black spot, mildew, compacted ornamental grasses, digging out of established conifer roots, gastropods, foxes digging up everything I planted, and flooding.

Now, I may sound as if I am complaining about my liberation from Ogygia (lockdown) and reaching my homeland of Ithaca (bungalow) to reign as king of my horticultural domain, but far from it! The intense joy I felt whilst carrying out these physical tasks and the transformation of the garden brought me an inner peace I cannot describe.

Woes and wellbeing

I have neglected to inform you dear reader of a pertinent part of my story; during this time I was also studying for my social work degree and working full time in social care. This was a time of total chaos. The commitment required of me in my work and study combined with the move and renovations of our new home, but also being late diagnosed with multiple neuro-types that include ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, and dyscalculia became an overwhelming period for me where I could not truly shut off from my pressures.

It was the simplicity of gardening and being connected to nature in some way that truly helped me to shut off from the world around me and just be in the moment. I enjoyed the learning that comes with gardening as a novice. For example, what does ‘full sun’ or ‘partial shade’ actually mean, what is ‘moist’ but ‘well-draining’ soil – these contradictions infuriated me. Also, the complexity of plant placement and companion planting, or is the soil 'acidic' or 'neutral'. For me, at the time ‘dirt’ was ‘dirt’, surely?  I became wrapped up in learning as much as I could, and through trial and error managed to muddle my way through and start creating something beautiful that I and my family could enjoy.

The unexpected

The unexpected element for me, and I expect this is a life transition for many people of my age, was the unintentional joy in ‘twitching’. For those of you who have not reached this life transition, this is the pursuit and observation of birds. I became obsessed with it, and not only that, but I also started to realise why I would see certain birds in my garden. It was the ecology of my garden that provided the resources for these birds to survive – the food source and the shelter. This then encouraged me to add in plants that would benefit these amazing creatures and help them thrive. I kept hedges that I was going to rip out to erect a fence and have added hawthorns and dogrose to increase the shelter and food that comes from the berries and rose hips. I did trial bird feeders but discovered quickly the issues that arose from them around disease, but also my astonishment of the seeds germinating in the feeder and around the garden.

Community

I will always be learning as a gardener, and that is always a good thing to be able to reflect on, and develop in any element of your life, and I feel that I am now able to share my knowledge with other people who are getting into gardening. And with that, I feel that being a social worker and someone who is an avid gardener who has experienced the benefit to my own wellbeing that gardening has created, I have signed up to a local community group that cares for a wildlife nursery and orchard that is open to the community, but also to utilise my skills from social work to help the local community around me.

Engagement on this level so important and helps to reach people from all backgrounds that may need help and not know how to access it, or just utilise the space and company for their own wellbeing and learn about gardening and becoming part of the gardening community. This is what is so beautiful about gardening, the diversity of people that share the same passion and love of gardening, especially in a world that is so divided, which can draw us back to gather as people and as communities. Therefore, if you are an experienced gardener who may have transferable skills or even someone who has never gardened and wants to make a difference, or make new friends, then I strongly recommend becoming involved with, or starting your own community groups, as the benefits this brings to individuals and communities is unfathomable.