i am also creating a (coastal) cottage garden in my front yard. at a 4th of july gathering yesterday, i happened upon the man who cleared my patch of land a few years ago. i had a lovely chat with him about the evolution of what he'd done, how i followed up, and what joy it is bringing me. he seemed to be pleased and a bit surprised with the report. i agree with your assessment that these folks aren't accustomed to much feedback.
unlike you, i'd be mightily peeved if someone planted seeds in my garden surreptitiously. i have a color family i curate, and other opinions are not necessary. i have had to train a very good friend not to pull "weeds" to "help". weeds are in the eye of the beholder, imo.
Thank you! And the coastal cottage garden sounds like a delight just from those few words. Joy, indeed. About the orange flowers, never fear! It was in a bare spot that had nothing, and they were transplants, not seeds. I woke up late one morning and saw them blooming, an utterly delightful surprise. When I thanked her she offered to remove them immediately if it turned out I didn't like them.
Thank you for reading! I was actually stuck home sick during that whole spring and summer, and your book was one of the bright spots of that time. I didn't include the two photos here, obviously, because I don't have the right, but you would not believe the number of guests who passed through during those months who were shown both and talked with about them!
I found this so moving, thank you for such a beautiful piece of writing. I love your description of how one small activity threads into another, which is exactly why being in a garden pulls you away into another world.
Thank you, Deborah! As you know, your post a video of baby ducklings in yours, as well as an image of the garden in one of your more recent posts, have also been an inspiration for what one might want — what one could make out of nothing.
Even on the hardest days, the garden is such a blessing: spotting wildlife who visit, a flower that has opened overnight or just taking it in. Such small joys are so welcome. I meant to say too, that I find I always turn to sewing too. One small stitich after another gives such pleasure.
❤️ The *witnessing* aspect is an extraordinary experience, isn’t it? A constant sense of being rewarded. And it doesn’t have to be a garden of one’s own; it’s just that one’s own one gets to know things better, perhaps, and therefore to mark the smaller changes too.
Agreed. Magical. When one sees the entire process from a bud forming to suddenly one day the flower — that specific flower — that one has been following finally opens.
I was thinking that I've had that in public spaces too, and even just following other people's front gardens while out on walks. It seems worth mentioning because the joy of being a witness, which still for me is the greatest joy of the whole thing, doesn't require a garden of one's own, which is not always accessible.
This was such a delight to read! Like you I’ve lived in my head in abstractions and words and have lost touch with the material part of being human and making and tending things. It’s part of why I yearn for a life in the countryside as well. Your garden is inspiring me. I’d love to see more pictures of it!
I’m glad! It’s interesting, though — just moving is not necessarily enough, or not immediately, anyway. It’s taken me a long time, literally until yesterday for part of it, to move from a kind of avoidance into that material space. It’s so easy to maintain one’s familiar patterns of focus on words and thoughts. I knew I wanted presence — as in my earlier “To Live Deliberately” essay — but this is something new, somehow. Though you already know what you want, which changes everything for the better, so good.
On the garden — I’m glad! If I could post the photos from Jo Thompson’s post, I would. I actually thought of posting my own, but the new flowerbed is still so new that nothing has filled out, somehow. It was planted in the fall and began to flower in May (though some flowers haven’t bloomed at all yet), but it looks scraggly unless one sees it with the imagination’s eye, knowing what it might look like in a couple of years. That’s been a learning process too, thinking in that way, reshaping one’s sense of time to garden time.
Thank you! I’m glad. The grass thing is a tough one, isn’t it? One wants more than blank, but doesn’t know what could replace that would feel simple and normal and inviting and not require too much upkeep.
I wish I could share that post by Jo Thompson, but it might be worth subscribing and taking a look just to see if the before and after inspire you the way they did me. (I must say I enjoy every post that comes out, but that’s the one, with the two photos given almost in passing, that changed things for me.) The “after” photo in the post I linked is actually in the The New Romantic Garden book, but I’m not sure that I’d have noticed it without the “before” photo in the Substack post, And it’s not that we’re replicating that garden. It’s more that I saw from it what kind of *feel* one *could* make out of all that nothing, and then everything else has followed.
What we’re doing here is not expensive, by the way. The plants are simple, and the garden is meant to be close to self-sustaining after a while. I am very, very lucky in who is making it all happen.
Something peaceful, beautiful and hopeful is sprouting in your garden. I am happy for you.
Thank you, Rona!
i am also creating a (coastal) cottage garden in my front yard. at a 4th of july gathering yesterday, i happened upon the man who cleared my patch of land a few years ago. i had a lovely chat with him about the evolution of what he'd done, how i followed up, and what joy it is bringing me. he seemed to be pleased and a bit surprised with the report. i agree with your assessment that these folks aren't accustomed to much feedback.
unlike you, i'd be mightily peeved if someone planted seeds in my garden surreptitiously. i have a color family i curate, and other opinions are not necessary. i have had to train a very good friend not to pull "weeds" to "help". weeds are in the eye of the beholder, imo.
lovely piece. i enjoyed reading it.
Thank you! And the coastal cottage garden sounds like a delight just from those few words. Joy, indeed. About the orange flowers, never fear! It was in a bare spot that had nothing, and they were transplants, not seeds. I woke up late one morning and saw them blooming, an utterly delightful surprise. When I thanked her she offered to remove them immediately if it turned out I didn't like them.
Ps I’ve edited that passage slightly now to make it more clear that the flowers were suitable.
This is so beautiful, and thank you so much for your gorgeously kind words. I’m just so happy that you’re inspired!
Thank you for reading! I was actually stuck home sick during that whole spring and summer, and your book was one of the bright spots of that time. I didn't include the two photos here, obviously, because I don't have the right, but you would not believe the number of guests who passed through during those months who were shown both and talked with about them!
I found this so moving, thank you for such a beautiful piece of writing. I love your description of how one small activity threads into another, which is exactly why being in a garden pulls you away into another world.
Thank you, Deborah! As you know, your post a video of baby ducklings in yours, as well as an image of the garden in one of your more recent posts, have also been an inspiration for what one might want — what one could make out of nothing.
Even on the hardest days, the garden is such a blessing: spotting wildlife who visit, a flower that has opened overnight or just taking it in. Such small joys are so welcome. I meant to say too, that I find I always turn to sewing too. One small stitich after another gives such pleasure.
❤️ The *witnessing* aspect is an extraordinary experience, isn’t it? A constant sense of being rewarded. And it doesn’t have to be a garden of one’s own; it’s just that one’s own one gets to know things better, perhaps, and therefore to mark the smaller changes too.
Yes, it is the familiarity, the daily observations, that makes it so rewarding.
Agreed. Magical. When one sees the entire process from a bud forming to suddenly one day the flower — that specific flower — that one has been following finally opens.
I was thinking that I've had that in public spaces too, and even just following other people's front gardens while out on walks. It seems worth mentioning because the joy of being a witness, which still for me is the greatest joy of the whole thing, doesn't require a garden of one's own, which is not always accessible.
This was such a delight to read! Like you I’ve lived in my head in abstractions and words and have lost touch with the material part of being human and making and tending things. It’s part of why I yearn for a life in the countryside as well. Your garden is inspiring me. I’d love to see more pictures of it!
I’m glad! It’s interesting, though — just moving is not necessarily enough, or not immediately, anyway. It’s taken me a long time, literally until yesterday for part of it, to move from a kind of avoidance into that material space. It’s so easy to maintain one’s familiar patterns of focus on words and thoughts. I knew I wanted presence — as in my earlier “To Live Deliberately” essay — but this is something new, somehow. Though you already know what you want, which changes everything for the better, so good.
On the garden — I’m glad! If I could post the photos from Jo Thompson’s post, I would. I actually thought of posting my own, but the new flowerbed is still so new that nothing has filled out, somehow. It was planted in the fall and began to flower in May (though some flowers haven’t bloomed at all yet), but it looks scraggly unless one sees it with the imagination’s eye, knowing what it might look like in a couple of years. That’s been a learning process too, thinking in that way, reshaping one’s sense of time to garden time.
Relented and took a video of that part of the garden today. Maybe will dare to share it in a later post.
Would love to see that!
Such a lovely post! I've also got a flat piece of empty grass.
Thank you! I’m glad. The grass thing is a tough one, isn’t it? One wants more than blank, but doesn’t know what could replace that would feel simple and normal and inviting and not require too much upkeep.
I wish I could share that post by Jo Thompson, but it might be worth subscribing and taking a look just to see if the before and after inspire you the way they did me. (I must say I enjoy every post that comes out, but that’s the one, with the two photos given almost in passing, that changed things for me.) The “after” photo in the post I linked is actually in the The New Romantic Garden book, but I’m not sure that I’d have noticed it without the “before” photo in the Substack post, And it’s not that we’re replicating that garden. It’s more that I saw from it what kind of *feel* one *could* make out of all that nothing, and then everything else has followed.
What we’re doing here is not expensive, by the way. The plants are simple, and the garden is meant to be close to self-sustaining after a while. I am very, very lucky in who is making it all happen.
Ps it actually happened twice. The simplest photo in this piece also inspired a new, smaller, simple but beautiful garden bed. https://jothompson.substack.com/p/how-to-deal-with-your-front-garden?r=2u2cxe&utm_medium=ios