Gardens need space to grow and simply be. So do we.

When gardens become crowded, or when plants are strangled and suffocated by something like bindweed... which seems to be quite common here in Ireland... it can literally suck the life out of the plants it binds itself around.

I often wondered why some relationships manage to stay alive, while others eventually die.

I had been in an almost eight-year relationship until last year. For about half of that time, I knew something was missing, but I simply couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

I had my little studio in the house, and I retreated there almost every day to write, read and ponder. After my surgery, I even decided to sleep in there too. Of course, that created some distance between me and my then life partner, who started to panic, even though I kept reassuring him that I loved him.

I just needed space to be me.

I needed that a lot.

Over time, he realized I was unusual in that way… that I needed more space to be myself than most people he had known. He longed for constant closeness, wrapping around me like bindweed.

But the little turtle in me, who usually took things slow and felt at ease in her own skin, began to panic under the weight of it.

His need for constant closeness and my need for room to breathe clashed, and somewhere in between, the turtle in me felt crowded, no longer at ease.

I simply began not to feel safe in my own garden any longer.

And I started thinking that perhaps needing as much space as I seemed to need would inevitably push away the people I actually wanted to be close to.

There I was, thinking I was communicating my need, but somehow it felt as though I wasn’t in control of what happened around that need anymore.

Gardens need spacing.

Even when you plant trees, you need to give them enough room for their roots to spread without competing too fiercely with everything around them… especially when they are being strangled by brambles, cleavers, grass, or God knows what else.

Some plants simply need more room than others. Some thrive when planted close together. Others need to stand alone.

Perhaps we are not so different.

Sometimes we need to distance ourselves. Retreat into our caves or shells. Close the door. Become quiet enough to remember who we are before we step back out into the world.

I often felt so bad and guilty for daring to need my room and my space, especially after being told that I had lost my autonomy and independence within that relationship. And that was so confusing!

So I needed to close the door… that garden gate.

Listen to my music.
Write myself to the bone.
Do yoga.
Sing at the top of my lungs.
Dance.

Just for me.

The me, myself and I party.

And perhaps there is nothing selfish about that at all.

Perhaps space is not always a sign that something is wrong.

Perhaps sometimes, space is what allows us to remain rooted in ourselves… and therefore capable of growing alongside someone else, rather than growing all over them.

So what is truly needed?

Listen c’mere… “I need to disappear into my turtle home for a wee bit, but we are good.”

You do you, and I do me. And I trust that when we are ready, we will meet when it is meant to be again.

🌿 Tend Your Inner Garden🌿

As you move through this week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• Where in your life do you need a little more space to simply be yourself?

• Have you ever mistaken someone’s need for space as a rejection of you.. or felt guilty for needing space yourself?

• What would having a little more room to breathe, root and grow look like for you right now?

Remember: You are both the gardener and the garden.

The one who tends, and the one who dares to grow.

Tend to your roots.
Prune what no longer serves you… this is how you make space. Not for others’ demands, but for the wings you were told to clip.

Trust your boundaries.
They are the fences others tried to blur, the lines they called selfish when you finally said: This cage is not my home.

Bloom where you are.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Not for others, but for the you who is blooming… here, where the soil remembers your name.

Let tending be your defiance. A quiet no in a world that calls care control, that confuses love with clipping wings.

If this resonates, tell me: How are you tending to your garden this week?

Let’s grow…rooted in hope, unapologetic in bloom.

DD🌻

The Compassionate Gardener

As you move through this week, ☘️ may your roots grow deep, your friendships grow true, and may the garden of life keep growing in you.

******

P.S. I use AI to polish my writing because, quite frankly, if I let my thoughts run loose without structure and clarity, you would all get lost in the maze.

I have been writing this way for over a year… this Note’s structure was crafted long before AI tools were part of my workflow.

And yes, I might lose a few sticklers over it, but to be honest I really don’t care.

The thoughts, stories, and even the pictures are all mine… so no AI involved there.

This tool just helps me share my work the way I intend.

Hope you enjoy!

Gardens need care, not control. Just like us.

I have seen plenty of gardens and gardeners of life who operate from a truly caring angle. You can see them smile all day long, at ease and at peace with themselves.

They do not even think twice about the drama of another’s life.

They are simply right there in the moment… tending the tomatoes, watering the plants, picking the berries, planting a tree depending on the season, or harvesting the seeds for next year… whatever needs doing in the moment.

They are present. Focused in the here and now.

And that is Yoga.

Unity with oneself, where nothing else matters but that very moment in time, whomever or whatever you are with. And that has to bring joy. So why do anything or be anyone else?

But not all gardens thrive the same way.

There are those that seem full of energy, but the kind that burns out quickly.

They also get sick often... but still don’t seem to slow down. Almost like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderlands - “No time! Always busy!” - rushing from one place to another, never fully here in the present moment.

Even if they convince themselves they are.

There is a lot of control… a desire of “I will do that when I am ready,” or “when the season is over.”

But what it takes is to make time… to be present. To do what makes one come alive and not bother what another may say.

It is weird when someone replies with a question when they are understaffed… they will simply suffer through it. It is weird to receive these trauma responses… that just doesn’t resonate with me any longer.

I may laugh it off, but I can sense the deeper meaning of it.

And then there is the in-between … the quiet pause where you step back and ask: What do I truly want to nourish?

After spending time with many gardeners of life this summer, I have learned how not to be.

And what it is that calls me home to myself.

And what I am establishing now is balance.

I know there will be times when I need to make amends, but other times… no way! I have to be firm and stand my ground.

This is my life, my garden, my business!

It is so important to carve out time and space to care for oneself and what matters dearly.

And that could be anything to tickle that creative side of us!

🌿 Tend Your Inner Garden🌿

As you move through this week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• What part of your garden (life) needs your presence the most right now?

• Where can you set boundaries to protect your peace and creativity?

• What small, joyful act can you do today to nourish yourself?

Remember: You are both the gardener and the garden.

The one who tends, and the one who dares to grow.

Tend to your roots.
Prune what no longer serves you… this is how you make space. Not for others’ demands, but for the wings you were told to clip.

Trust your boundaries.
They are the fences others tried to blur, the lines they called selfish when you finally said: This cage is not my home.

Bloom where you are.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Not for others, but for the you who is blooming… here, where the soil remembers your name.

Let tending be your defiance. A quiet no in a world that calls care control, that confuses love with clipping wings.

If this resonates, tell me: How are you tending to your garden this week?

Let’s grow…rooted in hope, unapologetic in bloom.

DD🌻

The Compassionate Gardener

As you move through this week, ☘️ may you have the wisdom to know the difference between what you can change and what you must accept, and the courage to tend to your own garden first.

******

P.S. I use AI to polish my writing because, quite frankly, if I let my thoughts run loose without structure and clarity, you would all get lost in the maze.

I have been writing this way for over a year… this Note’s structure was crafted long before AI tools were part of my workflow.

And yes, I might lose a few sticklers over it, but to be honest I really don’t care.

The thoughts, stories, and even the pictures are all mine… so no AI involved there.

This tool just helps me share my work the way I intend.

Hope you enjoy!

Gardens are fascinating… and so are we.

Have you noticed how often we are being yanked back into the past? As if the universe wants to see how far we have grown into ourselves… knowing our boundaries, knowing: this is me, this is where I begin… and over there, that is where you end?

That is what happened to me when I received an email from an old schoolmate during the past week, someone I hadn’t heard from in 20 years… someone who used to sit next to me during lessons for years.

We would have “known” each other since we were seven. And what she more than likely won’t remember, it was her who used the word ‘respect’ back then, in some context when we were maybe about 15, that wasn’t clear to me at all.

All I remember is that feeling. Something felt off. The word and the actions didn’t align when I tried to make sense of the actual meaning of ‘respect’.

And now, twenty years later, after that first reunion ten years after we left school … where I had promised myself, never again… she has checked in to ask where I am and whether I might be able to attend our school reunion in November this year.

And you know, here is the thing: we were never friends. We were mates. Classmates. Or as we tend to say in German, Klassenkameraden… class comrades.

There is a distinction a dear old London friend once made when we were in our early twenties: a mate is someone you hang out with, share laughs with, pass the time with.

But a friend… a true friend… is someone you can call at 3 a.m. when the world feels heavy.

Someone who cares when you are stuck, who listens but isn’t afraid to call you out when you are talking nonsense. Someone courageous, honest, reliable, kind, and respectful… someone who makes you feel safe enough to be honest, too.

And when you do finally meet up, it is as if no time has passed at all. It is pure recognition!

It doesn’t matter if one of you has been married with kids, the other has lived abroad for donkey’s years, or wherever your life paths have taken you. Friends are for life. And yes, they can be mad at each other, but the heart… the heart always knows where it belongs.

Gardens, I think, are no different.

You might walk through one like a park or farmstead, admiring its beauty from a distance.

But to know a garden… to truly understand it… you have to spend time in it, work with it, feel its rhythms. You have to leave it be sometimes, trust that time will tell if you are meant to return.

Gardens, like friendships, reveal themselves only to those who are willing to wait, to listen, to tend.

So perhaps the next time you find yourself in a garden… or in the company of an old mate… ask yourself: Are you here to admire, or are you here to stay?

🌿 Tend Your Inner Garden🌿

As you move through this week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• Who in your life has been a “mate,” and who has been a true friend?

• What made the difference? Think of a garden or natural space that has shaped you. How did time and presence deepen your connection to it?

• If your relationships were a garden, which ones would you tend with more patience, and which would you let grow wild?

Remember: You are both the gardener and the garden.

The one who tends, and the one who dares to grow.

Tend to your roots.
Prune what no longer serves you… this is how you make space. Not for others’ demands, but for the wings you were told to clip.

Trust your boundaries.
They are the fences others tried to blur, the lines they called selfish when you finally said: This cage is not my home.

Bloom where you are.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Not for others, but for the you who is blooming… here, where the soil remembers your name.

Let tending be your defiance. A quiet no in a world that calls care control, that confuses love with clipping wings.

If this resonates, tell me: How are you tending to your garden this week?

Let’s grow…rooted in hope, unapologetic in bloom.

DD🌻

The Compassionate Gardener

As you move through this week, ☘️ may your roots grow deep, your friendships grow true,
and may the garden of life keep growing in you.

******

P.S. I use AI to polish my writing because, quite frankly, if I let my thoughts run loose without structure and clarity, you would all get lost in the maze.

I have been writing this way for over a year… this Note’s structure was crafted long before AI tools were part of my workflow.

And yes, I might lose a few sticklers over it, but to be honest I really don’t care.

The thoughts, stories, and even the pictures are all mine… so no AI involved there.

This tool just helps me share my work the way I intend.

Hope you enjoy!

I have spent years as The Compassionate Gardener… long before this philosophy took root in Bessborough, Co. Cork, Ireland.

It has always been instinctive ever since I was little: knowing how to nurture growth in others, whether in their lives, with their pets, their gardens, or their hearts.

It came easily to me… being an emotional presence without judgment, simply being there.

Because who am I to shame, blame, or guilt-trip another when I know the weight of carrying those burdens? And when it is time to finally lay them down.

Now, as summer deepens into autumn, life seems to be teaching me a new kind of gardening wisdom: knowing when to stop watering a plant that isn’t drinking.

Not out of anger, punishment, or resentment, but out of a quiet, hard-earned understanding.

I have reached a point, especially here in West Cork… where I can no longer be the only one leading by example.

I can’t keep modeling what I have learned and long for in relationships… friendship, partnership, love… while the other person reacts as if accused, even when no words of blame have come over my lips.

What I need isn’t a shopping list or a roof over my head.

What I need is a change in behavior. Or at the very least, the peace of “no news is good news.”

Beneath all the humour, I crave a different kind of quiet: not the silence of indifference, but the stillness of a day where nothing is on fire.

No drama.

No accusations, defenses, explanations, or repairs.

Just a day where I can say, I am in love with life… in love with writing, gardening, swimming, breathing, simply being… me.

And that, to me, is sanctuary.

So I can no longer say “I’m sorry” when there is no visible change.

This isn’t a declaration of war… it is my compass.

My heart.

Because love without accountability becomes self-abandonment, and I know that all too well. I can no longer live on potential alone.

Compassion without discernment, I have learned, is simply exhausting over time.

I see the whole person beneath their behavior… the wounded child, the one too afraid to leap, the one with gifts unexpressed but so needed.

But I also know where my compassionate garden begins and ends: with me.

🌿 Tend Your Inner Garden🌿

As you move through this week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• Where in your life are you still watering plants that refuse to grow?

• What would it look like to love someone deeply and hold them accountable at the same time?

• If peace were a garden, what would you stop tending to make room for it?

Remember: You are both the gardener and the garden.

The one who tends, and the one who dares to grow.

Tend to your roots.
Prune what no longer serves you… this is how you make space. Not for others’ demands, but for the wings you were told to clip.

Trust your boundaries.
They are the fences others tried to blur, the lines they called selfish when you finally said: This cage is not my home.

Bloom where you are.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Not for others, but for the you who is blooming… here, where the soil remembers your name.

Let tending be your defiance. A quiet no in a world that calls care control, that confuses love with clipping wings.

If this resonates, tell me: How are you tending to your garden this week?

Let’s grow…rooted in hope, unapologetic in bloom.

DD🌻

The Compassionate Gardener

As you move through this week, ☘️ may you find the courage to change what you can, and the wisdom to let go of what you cannot.

******

P.S. I use AI to polish my writing because, quite frankly, if I let my thoughts run loose without structure and clarity, you would all get lost in the maze.

I have been writing this way for over a year… this Note’s structure was crafted long before AI tools were part of my workflow.

And yes, I might lose a few sticklers over it, but to be honest I really don’t care.

The thoughts, stories, and even the pictures are all mine… so no AI involved there.

This tool just helps me share my work the way I intend.

Hope you enjoy!

Wandering Mind

Look to where your mind goes
when it wanders –
what it ponders,
what it dreams.
You may smile,
you may cry,
going through motions,
always remembering
what it is
that matters
in the moment.

What it is
that made you feel,
made you come alive.

Love is like a butterfly.
It flaps in,
it flaps out.
You cannot capture it,
nor box it in.
It needs to fly,
to return
in its own time,
when the world is quiet,
and your heart is ready.

Thank you,

DD🌻

Originally published at The Compassionate Gardener.

For the ones who patiently tend what others cannot yet see.

****

Gardens can be clear and neatly laid out, so you know where you stand. But there is also uncertainty, and not everyone knows how to navigate it.

It takes years of practice… staying in your own lane and so company, tending to your own garden…. to remember who you are, to push the clouds away, and to keep the chaos at bay.

Even if gardens thrive best with a bit of warmth, air, light, and the occasional disruption. Because quite frankly, I am not necessarily someone that strives in chaos!

I need peace and calm to find myself.

With last week’s Buck Full Moon, intense and illuminating, I reclaimed my own clarity and strength.

I know more than ever who I am: DD, the queen of my own green land of love and joy. No one, I say no one, can upset me unless I allow it.

That doesn’t mean certain situations or words don’t sting… or even break the heart of my little garden. On the contrary!

These days, I am fiercely selective about who I invite into the garden of my life.

The beauty of my thin boundaries is that they let in so much light and love… but sometimes, they let in the storms too. Storms that could knock you off your feet, especially when they aren’t yours.

Yet, I have cultivated ways to anchor myself, so I am no longer swept away by life’s intense waves. Especially when I have been in the ocean swimming that very same day, I see myself become the whole ocean… washing away what doesn’t serve me and moving with the storms of life.

However, not every garden is prepared or ready to weather the storms and uncertainties of the unknown. I remember too clearly what that’s like. While it was hardly easy, this shaped me as the woman I am today.

Every garden needs a swing… somewhere to pause between the past and the future.

I know that dance: one step forward, two steps back into the past, as if nowhere could be better than there… home.

But we know that is not true. If it were home, why don’t we live and enjoy it… the dream come true? In that precious present! Or is it that we strive to live our nightmares instead?

I have been living my life in paradise lately, but somewhat reluctant to move forward… even to a paradise island.

And now I am wondering: what if the next step isn’t about leaving paradise, but carrying it with me wherever the storm may take me?

🌿 Tend Your Inner Garden🌿

As you move through this week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• What storms have shaped the garden of your soul?

• Where do you find your anchor when the waves of life pull you under?

• What would it look like to carry your paradise with you, wherever you go?

Remember: You are both the gardener and the garden.

The one who tends, and the one who dares to grow.

Tend to your roots.
Prune what no longer serves you… this is how you make space. Not for others’ demands, but for the wings you were told to clip.

Trust your boundaries.
They are the fences others tried to blur, the lines they called selfish when you finally said: This cage is not my home.

Bloom where you are.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Not for others, but for the you who is blooming… here, where the soil remembers your name.

Let tending be your defiance. A quiet no in a world that calls care control, that confuses love with clipping wings.

If this resonates, tell me: How are you tending to your garden this week?

Let’s grow…rooted in hope, unapologetic in bloom.

DD🌻

The Compassionate Gardener

As you move through this week, ☘️ may the road rise to meet you, And the wind be always at your back.

******

P.S. I use AI to polish my writing because, quite frankly, if I let my thoughts run loose without structure and clarity, you would all get lost in the maze.

I have been writing this way for over a year… this Note’s structure was crafted long before AI tools were part of my workflow.

And yes, I might lose a few sticklers over it, but to be honest I really don’t care.

The thoughts, stories, and even the pictures are all mine… so no AI involved there.

This tool just helps me share my work the way I intend.

Hope you enjoy!

There is something about gardens that surprises me every time. They teach us that boundaries can be soft yet unmistakable… just like in our own lives.

When we lack structure or discipline, things can feel a little too wild, a little too tangled. A wee bit frantic and all over the place.

So we must cultivate clarity from within, not just for order, but as an act of love for ourselves. It is about knowing where you end and another begins, so neither of you loses yourselves in the process.

But what happens when we forget to set those boundaries for ourselves and instead expect others to do it for us?

It can stir up unresolved emotions, turning the unknown into something daunting. In those moments, all we have is the present… now… and we must breathe through it, grounding ourselves back into our own space, our own home.

This truth resonates deeply as I reflect on my own experiences.

Lately, I have spent time in a few gardens and noticed how my presence can bring up questions for others. Am I being projected onto? Reflected? Or simply seen?

The truth is, some people are still figuring out their paths, while I have found comfort in my slow early mornings, my gardening hours, my writing, and the time I spend caring for homes and pets.

Yet I pause to ask: How much of myself do I want to give to someone else’s garden?

I have just stepped out of a long-term relationship… one that included a home and garden. As much as I loved it, I am now savoring this newfound freedom, the joy of my own company.

But here’s the thing: I also like to test the waters. I enjoy humour, mess around a little, and see how far I can go… not to hurt, but to see how seriously people take themselves.

With some, I don’t joke at all. You can sense it in their body language, their demeanour: This is not the time for banter. They take themselves far too seriously, often bitter about the past, and I respect that and step away.

And then there are those in the in-between… people I might catch off guard with my unexpected questions.

But in my defense, I have learned to follow up with, 'Sorry if that was too personal.”

Most people brush it off, but I have encountered others who react as if I have touched a nerve… ready to either implode or explode.

In those moments, I remind myself: This isn’t about me.

If my words stir something in someone else, it is simply a sign that healing is needed. After all, even the most playful gardener knows when to step lightly.

My role… if there is one… is to step back, to be kind, and to respect their process.

Boundaries are not just about protecting ourselves but also about honoring the space for others to grow… or not… in their own compassionate way.

🌿 Tend Your Inner Garden🌿

As you move through this week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• Where in your life do you need to set softer… or firmer… boundaries?

• Who in your life allows you to be playful, and who requires your gentleness?

• How do you return to yourself when the unknown feels overwhelming?

Remember: You are both the gardener and the garden.

The one who tends, and the one who dares to grow.

Tend to your roots.
Prune what no longer serves you… this is how you make space. Not for others’ demands, but for the wings you were told to clip.

Trust your boundaries.
They are the fences others tried to blur, the lines they called selfish when you finally said: This cage is not my home.

Bloom where you are.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Not for others, but for the you who is blooming… here, where the soil remembers your name.

Let tending be your defiance. A quiet no in a world that calls care control, that confuses love with clipping wings.

If this resonates, tell me: How are you tending to your garden this week?

Let’s grow…rooted in hope, unapologetic in bloom.

DD🌻

The Compassionate Gardener

As you move through this week, ☘️ may the road rise to meet you, And the wind be always at your back.

******

P.S. I use AI to polish my writing because, quite frankly, if I let my thoughts run loose without structure and clarity, you would all get lost in the maze.

I have been writing this way for over a year… this Note’s structure was crafted long before AI tools were part of my workflow.

And yes, I might lose a few sticklers over it, but to be honest I really don’t care.

The thoughts, stories, and even the pictures are all mine… so no AI involved there.

This tool just helps me share my work the way I intend.

Hope you enjoy!

Gardens are as sensitive as we are, whether we admit it or not.

Some of us like to think we are the expert gardeners of life, tougher or more “together” than the garden next door. But what do we really know?

All I know is that we are all in the same boat called life, each battling our own pests and diseases.

I remember my first practical horticultural experience with an English garden designer in Macroom, Co. Cork. Those two weeks were some of the best of my life. I was spoiled by the sheer beauty of gardening, and yes, it can be an expensive hobby for some.

But for those who take it seriously, there is so much to discover.

I made a commitment to finish my horticulture course, and I was determined to see it through. Looking back, I am so glad I did. My mentor had four poly-tunnels, and I spent my fortnight clearing them of weeds. Every morning I stepped inside, life felt a little lighter.

It was a lesson in letting go. I can only tend to what is mine: my own life, my own sensitive garden.

Even now, while I love caring for others’ gardens, I have learned to step back before over-giving. I need balance, reciprocity… a beautiful dance of give and take.

That is why I feel reluctant to spend more energy than necessary in someone else’s garden. Some interactions stay transactional, while others bloom into friendships.

I see the potential in many gardens.

I can see what might grow there, what could be nurtured.

But I also recognize when there is too much closeness for comfort, when something begins to behave like bindweed, slowly smothering the life out of you.

I can be like a butterfly, drifting in and out.

I need the freedom to simply be.

If I feel tied to something permanent, especially when I know that everything in life is temporary, rules that don’t fit my nature begin to feel like a cage.

I can be deeply present without promising forever.

I can care deeply without losing myself.

In those special spaces where I can truly be myself, spending time there feels like coming home. Something in me settles.

What I am looking for now is not a cage disguised as commitment, but a garden with enough space for me to grow, too.

🌿 Tend Your Inner Garden🌿

As you move through this week, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:

• Where in your life are you over-giving, and where do you need to step back?

• What is one small change you could make to create more balance in your own “garden”?

• Who in your life makes you feel accepted, flaws and all… and how can you nurture that connection?

Remember: You are both the gardener and the garden.

The one who tends, and the one who dares to grow.

Tend to your roots.
Prune what no longer serves you… this is how you make space. Not for others’ demands, but for the wings you were told to clip.

Trust your boundaries.
They are the fences others tried to blur, the lines they called selfish when you finally said: This cage is not my home.

Bloom where you are.
Not out of duty, but out of love. Not for others, but for the you who is blooming… here, where the soil remembers your name.

Let tending be your defiance. A quiet no in a world that calls care control, that confuses love with clipping wings.

If this resonates, tell me: How are you tending to your garden this week?

Let’s grow…rooted in hope, unapologetic in bloom.

DD🌻

The Compassionate Gardener

As you move through this week, ☘️ may your garden have room to grow, and may your roots always know where they belong.

Gardens can bewitch us.

Every garden holds a kind of magic, and we owe it to ourselves… and to them… to take the time and patience to truly get to know them.

Take a book in a bookstore or a library, for example.

I have never been one for bestsellers, and I mean that with all due respect. I admire their reach a…

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Gardens can be full of surprises. And so can we.

How often have I heard people say they dislike surprises? They need to be in control, in charge… something I can resonate with, especially when it comes to my life, my garden, my business.

But there comes a time when you have to let things flow and take things slow… …

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Gardens are a work of art. And art is love.

So whatever we create with our own hands… whether it is a garden, a meal, a moment of joy, or simply the act of tending to life… is an act of devotion.

It is love in its purest form: patient, purposeful, and enduring. But love, like a garden,…

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Things are beginning to repeat themselves, and in that repetition, I find not newness, but reminder.

A reminder of what I need to feel at home in my garden of life.

Gardens thrive on structure and clarity, yes… but they also need a bit of chaos to push through the seasons. Like us, they m…

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Gardens can have a hard time with the changes in weather, and so do we. They can cause lots of emotional and physical distress.

For quite some years now we have been experiencing climate changes, and out here in West Cork, in Ireland… which runs alon…

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Gardens are mystifying. And so are we.

Here I am, spreading out, planting seeds in the wild beauty of West Cork, offer…

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Gardens are weird… so are we.

People can become stranger than fiction when we grow older, and given what is going on out there in the world, life can be fiercely strange.

It is as if the soil of our lives gets turned over… what was once familiar now feels foreign, a…

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Gardens can be safe places… just like we can be, when we give ourselves the time and care we deserve.

Too often, we rush into situations, into people who seem different at first… only to find they are the same patterns wearing new faces. But there is also that familiarity that allows us to drop our …

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Gardens can make you feel in-between.

You are neither the meticulously pruned, traditionally “perfect” garden, nor the wild, mañana-mañana chaos of untamed growth. You are not a squirrel on espresso or a kangaroo on a mission, tearing through life at a frantic pace, nor the turtle, taking your own sweet th…

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Gardens are as different as we are.

Some are noisy, restless, and can’t sit still. Others crave the peace and quiet of a retirement home… though even there, I dare say, quiet isn’t always guaranteed.

Trust me, I have done work experience in one. The spirit usually awakens when there is food and music…

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