The growing season is at its peak. There have been harvests already and more to come. The boughs of our plum tree bend towards the ground, heaving with fruit, and there are new cucumbers and courgettes swelling with each warm summer day.
My season started late, and since the spring equinox I feel as if I’ve been stumbling while I try to catch up. My crops are being outpaced by the creeping buttercup, couch grass and nettles that sneak under the chicken-wire fence. Self-seeded lemon balm and teasels pop up wherever there’s a thumbnail’s worth of bare soil. While it’s a glorious time in the veg patch, all I seem to feel is overwhelm.
While overwhelm is a feeling I know all gardeners experience at some point – whether in the depths of a long, soggy winter, or while watching blight take hold of their tomatoes, or just when contemplating a never-ending to-do list – it isn’t something I see people talk about much. Beyond the carefully curated photos and the thoughtfully worded, triumphant captions shared on Instagram, there are other feelings the garden can induce that we growers ought to share more.
Right now, it is a major source of frustration for me. Everything is growing so rapidly I’ve lost sight of what my garden can be – or what, perhaps, it ought to be. Instead of being a place of nature and nurture, joy and thriving, it feels draining and disappointing. But this isn’t unusual and there is a gentle, sane way to manage these feelings.
Stop. Stop trying to get on top of the weeds, the mess and the endless tasks. Just sit down amid the chaos of your garden at the height of summer and see it for the beauty it holds, not the things it has failed to be. A kind friend said to me recently that “a messy garden is better than an empty one”, and I’ve been leaning on the truth and reassurance of that statement to hold me steady as the illusion of control slips through my fingers.
I’m also reminded of the wise counsel of skilled gardener and friend Andrew Timothy O’Brien, who wrote an entire book, To Stand and Stare, that embodies a gentler way of being with the plants in your garden. He invites us to pay attention to the garden as it expresses itself, embracing what it has to say even when it’s not part of our plan, and taking the time to be with the garden instead of relentlessly doing.
after newsletter promotion
We can more intentionally cultivate the relationship with our patches of earth when we ease our grip on what we want our garden to be and meet it where it is. The to-do list will persist, of course, but perhaps we can learn to live with getting less of it done.