A Year of Wild Gardening: Life Lessons to Live By

In 2023, I decided to let my garden be more wild and unconstrained. I bought a few packets of seeds and scattered them in early spring.

I said to myself: “I’m going to let go and let the garden grow.” I hoped, that despite myself, I really would be able to let go.

A wild lily blooming, original image by author

Working from home had taken away the routine of getting dressed, commuting, and meeting colleagues for breakfast. Instead, one could hide behind a camera, and while this had its merits — most especially, one could hide the strain of a difficult night struggling with anxiety or sickness— it took away some of the joy of choosing outfits, the variety of sights offered by the daily commute, and the possibility of after work drinks.

During the lockdown, I had taken to baking to find comfort. It gave me a measure of control in the world where everything seemed so uncertain. It felt so reassuring that I could always follow instructions, and measure things precisely. Each time I could create something beautiful, and delicious — from nothing. I did that. I would bake in between meetings, taking pride in how I managed the time. And I delighted in my husband’s pride at my new cake — because I seldom repeated a recipe. I thought I adored the creativity it brought out in me. But it was only when I started gardening, that I realized how much baking was about the control I regained in my life for that period in time.

I had been obsessed with planting in color themes over the past years on my terrace, drawing inspiration from Instagram. I would buy small pots of seasonal flowers and put them in planter boxes. I loved that gardening was the kind of hobby that gave you a return on your investment — if you watered your plant and took care of it, it flourished. I loved my garden, and it loved me back.

However this time, I thought, I would just buy soil, bulbs, and wildflower seed packets. Quite the opposite really: to sow the seeds and then let everything grow organically. This exercise would test me.

The soil and seeds arrived in May. I took out my gardening gloves and started making the plant boxes ready. I sprinkled the seeds in the earth, covered them, and lightly watered them. I wished them well. I watered them daily, watching for green shoots to push their way out gingerly from the soil. A few weeks went by and soon the plant boxes and pots became filled with leaves and early blooms of cornflower. Sunflowers started to shoot up from one of the larger pots by June.

Bees and finches started to visit my little garden. Dahlias, hibiscus, roses, and honeysuckle that had been planted years before started to bloom and fill the air with their sweet fragrance.

Wildflowers, zinnias, and Queen Anne’s lace began growing in the crevices of our pavers. I let them push out and flower. I resisted the urge to pull out what I had once considered weeds and let them blossom. I did not regret this decision as soon our terrace began to look like a wild, secret garden.

My wild garden grew in every direction, from the crevices, pots, planters, and up the walls. Image by author

In the process of letting my garden become wild and glorious, I started seeing important changes in myself.

1. I found myself waking up with something to look forward to. I began waking up earlier in the morning looking forward to watering the plants — to see what was new, what had sprung forward, what needed tending.
2. I became more attuned to delight. Where I once needed control — that was what my baking was about — precise measurements and having the same outcome each time — the garden was just delightful in the daily surprise it gave me. I’ve had wild lilies blossom, the seeds brought by insects or birds. I’ve enjoyed the profusion of color, healthy roses and gladiolas, and bumblebees and birds enjoying this garden with me.
3. When I tended the garden, I was only doing what was necessary to make space to allow light for those plants that needed it. The only thing I’ve done is create space between plants to let light in and add stakes for support. I realized I had started to do this as well at work — focusing on coaching versus directing.
4. When I allowed things to come to alignment, I attracted the right things. I simply allowed the garden to take shape and flourish organically, merely providing a space for the plants to grow and creating such a glorious space that was a haven for bees, butterflies, and birds.

In letting go of control, I allowed myself to receive infinitely more gifts than I anticipated. There was no way to plan the abundance of fragrance, beauty, and delight that I enjoyed every day. By spending more time in the garden, I allowed myself to notice the tiny details in each plant, inhale the perfume of the wildflowers, and listen to the differences in the birdsongs of each bird.

I am forever changed by the one decision to sow wildflowers because it’s now the way I approach life: with a lot more space for surprises.