Forget ‘Hot-Girl-Summer’…

It’s time to say hello to my ‘Granola-Grandma’ era.

But before we do, let’s rewind to a bleak February afternoon. I was sat in my home office, scrolling my laptop for hours upon end. Refreshing LinkedIn every few minutes, embarking on yet another day of the job search and becoming increasingly detached from the outside world - and myself too.

I was battling with the emotions of being made redundant, dealing with a spike of anxiety and the lows of depression, and grieving deeply for my beloved Nana who had sadly passed away just weeks before. The days felt like lockdown 3.0, but with only me, myself and I experiencing it.

I felt swamped with my thoughts, paralyzed to make any kind of decision, overwhelmed with emotions and yet, pressure mounted on my shoulders to do something, anything.

I looked out the window onto my overgrown and out-of-control garden. The sticky flower-buds were waiting to bloom as they lay there beneath the crisp, dead leaves of winter. In many ways, the wildness of it felt almost relatable.

After pondering my thoughts and soaking-up the view, I thought the garden would be a safe place for me to venture out into. I didn’t need to worry about looking presentable or even change out of my leggings and baggy hoodie. I slipped on my Crocs, pulled my gardening gloves onto my fingers and stuck my hair up into a messy bun. I was ready to make a move into my garden and begin my first task of deadheading and de-weeding the borders.

Hours, days and weeks passed and before I knew it, the afternoon spent in the garden was my first step in creating my little urban oasis. I carved myself a new routine of making the effort to water and look at my plants every morning - to see who was doing well, which ones needed a little extra TLC and to just be mindful as I saw them grow and bloom. In the evenings, I’d spend time watching garden makeover TV shows, fangirling over Charlie Dimmock and browsing TikTok for inspiration and information. And come the weekend, I found myself hopping between garden centres and scoffing myself silly with tea and scones - jam first, cream second.

Give or take the sweat droplets rolling down my brow as I digged, digged, digged down into the dirt and feeling disappointed with yet another broken nail, I was amazed at how much my mood and general state of being was elevated from gardening.

I'm surprised how it’s taken me this long to realise it as I generally love to spend time outdoors and soaking up as much nature as I can, but gardening brought me a sense of calmness and creativity which I so desperately needed.

Mindfulness is a practice which may bring about thoughts of meditating before you sleep, listening to an app guide you away from your thoughts (and the dirty laundry lurking in the corner of your bedroom). But a study delivered by the King’s Fund and commissioned by the National Garden Scheme in 2016 shows there is a clear and positive connection between gardens, gardening and our health. It seems it doesn’t matter who you are, how big (or little) your garden is, or how old you are - studies have shown significant reductions in depression and anxiety and the wider mental health benefits of gardening are “broad and diverse”.

Speaking from a personal perspective, I try and practice mindfulness and gratitude on a daily basis. Indeed, I found these two practices to be interlinked as I reflected on new buds beginning to bloom, being in awe of the vibrant colours shining bright in my garden and feeling thankful for a dash of rain and grateful for the space nature created. And I noticed despite being alone in the garden, I didn’t ever feel lonely - although this may have something to do with my neighbour’s cat visiting me daily which I was always very grateful for.

Forget about the obvious health benefits of fresh air, gentle exercise and positive mental health practices which gardening brings for a moment, I was surprised by how much creativity it involves. If you’re not being inspired by the assortment of plant shapes, colours, layout options, colours and scents as you plan an arrangement - I’m going to say you’re not doing it right. You certainly don’t need to sit outdoors with an easel and paintbrush to be creative - sorry about that, Vincent.

Over the time I have spent gardening, I swapped by Choo’s for Crocs, I can tell my hostas from my hydrangeas, and my annuals from my perennials and I’ve found a much needed sense of purpose and fulfillment. Gardening isn’t a particularly popular or sexy hobby amongst my friends, which is a little surprising given the slow-living ethos, ability to be more sustainable by growing your own fruit and veg and the very friendly community of budding gardeners you’ll meet down at the garden centres.

Despite gardening being a never-ending chore which I’ll undoubtedly never conquer (much like the pile of dirty laundry I mentioned earlier), it doesn’t feel so frustrating. The only thing which feels frustrating is knowing how much time has passed without me discovering the joy of gardening and the sheer sense of calmness it brings me in such a frantic and unsettling world.

But I’ll take a leaf out of nature’s book and not let it get to me, as I sit here on a hot summer’s day in my garden.