An Accidental Gardener - An Anecdote For Aspiring Writers

I would like to apologise for the long post in advance, please stick with me, I do have a point, I promise ;)

I want to start by telling you my experience of gardening. I think it's safe to say that during the Covid-19 pandemic, there have been times when we've all found ourselves with a little extra free time that we would have normally taken up with work, shopping, socialising or school runs but that now, we have felt at a loss as to how to fill these small yet significant voids.

In my experience and from things I have seen online and via social media, 2020 has been a year of innovation, creativity and remodelling for everyone the world over. Homes have become offices and schools; kitchens have become bakeries and gardens have become the new parks and fresh-aired sanctuaries. 

And what better way to enjoy your limited outside space and time than to spruce up those flower beds, grow some greens and generally create a safe, comfortable little oasis away from the home office, away from the never-changing scenery and away from the ever-changing, confusing restrictions.

Well, this was my thinking anyway when I clicked checkout on Amazon after putting packets of mixed flower seeds and mineral-infused compost in my basket because obviously, lockdown had suddenly turned me into Charlie Dimmock!

So, the very next day, (thank you Amazon Prime!) I donned my gardening gloves, pulled out the neglected potting trays and got to work creating what I’d imagined would be the start of my Italian-inspired garden, overflowing with mature bougainvillea, brightly coloured with geraniums and lightly scented with lavender, however, my dream was not to be. 

I planted the seeds lovingly and placed the trays in a temporary greenhouse until the seedlings would be strong enough to survive the hostile environment of the flowerbeds. I followed the instructions, keeping them moist and giving them direct sunlight whist protecting their vulnerable little lives from the elements. 

Within a week, tiny green shoots carpeted the pots and my Italian dream came one step closer to fruition. Spring had sprung and the ever-improving weather lent the perfect conditions to boost the growth and vitality of my new outside happy place. 

Now, I don't think I've mentioned yet that I live in England, and therein lies the death of my Mediterranean sanctum.

The plants continued to grow healthy and strong and they even began to bud. I've never been a keen or successful gardener and so my delight with their progress was palpable. As is typical in England, days of sunshine and pleasant temperatures were interrupted by winds and rain. I decided that it was best to leave my young plants within the protection of their temporary home, after all, they need certain conditions in order to thrive and I needed them to thrive!

I awoke one morning after a particularly windy night and went to the garden to do my rounds. The sadness I felt at the sight that greeted me brought tears to my eyes.

Scattered across the floor were all my plants and empty potting trays. The greenhouse lay desolate across the slabs, it’s job as a protector and insulator aborted. It had failed. I had failed. Weeks of care and preparation wasted, my Italian utopia destroyed. 

I contemplated giving up, sweeping the remnants of my short-lived success into the garden bin but part of me just couldn't do it. I just couldn't take that away from the life that had already began, the work and effort and care that I'd invested, the happiness and pride I’d felt when it was all going right. I couldn't just throw it all away and give up and pretend that I was unaffected by it. 

My dream wasn't forgotten and I wasn’t prepared to abandon all hope at the first sign of difficulty. 

Not even bothering with the gloves, I got to work straight away upending the trays and gently scooping the plants into pots. Many of them were broken, many had soil-less roots and many were missing, completely scattered and never to be seen again. The end result was a sorry looking state of disfigured stems taking up half the space that they used to. I swept up the remaining debris and hoped for the best. 

I was downhearted and downtrodden but I comforted myself in the knowledge that the funny thing about living things is that they're extremely adaptable. Life takes all shapes and sizes and even when life is difficult, it's also amenable. 

I gave the plants the TLC they deserved and crossed my fingers. The days and weeks that followed saw about half the remaining plants overcome their trauma and the other half succumb to the easiest option of wilting away. 

Now with only a quarter of my original crop, I decided that it was time to put them in their new forever home. They had already faced so much difficulty that I figured replanting them couldn't cause any more harm. The weather remained unpredictable with equal measures of sunshine and rain and so I decided to let nature do what it does best.

As the lockdown eased and a semblance of normality began to return, my green-fingered time became less and less. I had done my best, I had provided optimum conditions, I had tried to salvage the wreck of the storm and I had followed the instructions to the letter. Now all I could do was wait. I watched as the plants struggled against the upheaval, struggled against the elements and even struggled against each other, fighting for space, sunshine and survival. Many of them won, it wasn't so much a case of survival of the fittest, as a survival of the most determined. I watched as they grew and flowered but I couldn't help feeling that they would have been much bigger and stronger than they were, had they not been tossed around by the wind. 

My investment in the plants began to wane. I had done all I could but I hadn't succeeded. How quickly things had gone south from big dreams and excitement to dejection and disinterest. What was the point in trying to be a gardener when I didn't have any experience? Why Invest in a dream that could so easily be demolished? Why use so much of my time creating the ideal conditions and caring about something only for it to end up being wasted? 

This is why...

Today I went out to mow the lawn only to be greeted by this. A bushy, blooming, thriving Sweet Alyssum plant that had grown between the cracks of the slabs. But not only that, several plants had shot up around the patio area in cracks and crevices blooming white, purple and orange flowers. Around the concrete slabs!

Now let me explain that these gaps are very thin, the slabs are laid on a bed of sand and the patio area doesn't receive an awful lot of sunlight through the day. The recent weather has also been more autumnal than summery and without any help, without any extra care and without any protection from the elements, these plants are the most successful of the lot! I succeeded! I didn't achieve what I set out to achieve nor did I achieve it the way I thought I would but nevertheless, I have a patio half-covered in bright, bushy plants. 

Granted, it’s not ideal to have to tiptoe over the patio whenever I want to go to the garden but the sight of these stubborn little flowers make me smile every single time, I see them and they remind me of the strength of overcoming adversity.

Okay, it wasn't quite like this, however...

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to create the perfect conditions, all you needed to do was use your current conditions to your advantage. They remind me never to give up at the first hurdle and not to get disheartened by failure because through failure, triumph can prevail. They show me that no matter what the foundation, nothing can grow if you never plant the seeds and they teach me that however small the probability, however overwhelming the task seems, there's space for everything to exist in its own way. On its own, surrounded by others, fighting through overcrowding, there is room for everything and everything deserves its chance to try and succeed in an unpredictable world, in an environment of it’s own. It’s not always easy, it's not always sheltered and it will always be subjected to external forces but it will always be a symbol of strength, of dedication, of vulnerability and of you. 

So if you're that writer who struggles to believe in their own contributions, if your that author who feels vulnerable putting their work out there, if you’re that poet who let's negative feedback constrict your growth, please, please, please, remember this story, remember the growth that comes from adversity and remember that your place in the writing world is just as valid, just as important and just as viable as anyone else's. And most importantly, remember that even creating the perfect environment won't guarantee success. What guarantees success is taking what you have already and making it work for you.