A Healing Journey Through My Garden

I’ve always had a soft spot for gardening. As a child, I’d trail behind my grandfather as he pottered around his garden. He’d long since hung up his farming boots, but the soil still called to him. I didn’t know it then, but those quiet hours of planting, weeding, and digging left deep roots in me.

For years, life took over—work, commitments, no garden to speak of. But I promised myself: one day. That “one day” arrived when I stepped away from the 9–5 and into retirement. I found myself staring at a patch of earth with equal parts excitement and terror. Could I really grow vegetables? Where would I start?

The First Attempt: Learning by (Glorious) Mistake

It began with potatoes. They seemed manageable. Stick them in the ground and see what happens. Spoiler alert: they actually grew! That small act of curiosity was the beginning of something much bigger.

Of course, the first couple of years were what I like to call “character-building.” Some things bolted, some didn’t appear at all, and my carrots looked like they’d been grown in a bonsai class. But I stuck with it. I read a bit, watched a lot, and leaned on the advice of kindly neighbours and patient YouTubers who seem to harvest enough veg to feed a small army.

I didn’t yet know it, but something more important than vegetables was taking root.

Growing Through the Tough Seasons

During my retirement phase, my world shrank a little, and I needed something to help quiet my mind. The garden, messy and unpredictable as it was, became my sanctuary. I began planting from seed—no plan, just hope. I ordered seeds like someone preparing for a seed apocalypse. They arrived in cheerful little envelopes, and I planted the lot.

Soon, the conservatory was full—trays on every surface, tiny green shoots poking up bravely. It was chaos. It was wonderful.

As the seedlings pushed through the soil, I felt myself doing the same. Slowly. Quietly. Patiently.

Success Sprouts!

This year, three years later,  has been the best yet. My once-shy garden has burst into life, and I can hardly believe the bounty we’re enjoying.

We’ve had: Strawberries (especially good this year) pears, apples, and cherries raspberries and redcurrants. Garlic both general and Elephant garlic (yes its massive), carrots, potatoes, sweet corn, peas, beans. A parade of lettuces, onions, beetroot (love beetroot) , even the brussels sprouts are growing, courgettes, squash, pumpkins, turnips and probably a few more I've forgotten.

Each year, we add something new—part adventure, part experiment. Some things thrive, some don’t. But every attempt is a lesson and a laugh.

From Garden to Kitchen

This abundance has led me back to the kitchen, returning to old family recipes and inventing new ones along the way. Beetroot cooked indefinite ways, pear sauces, garden frittatas, upside-down cakes, courgette fritters, flans, pies, and more to come, the creativity continues long after the harvest.

Some recipes have been triumphs. Others... let’s just say the compost bin has seen a few strange concoctions, but I’ve loved it all.

I’ve taken photos at every stage—the garden waking up in spring, baskets full of produce, and colourful dishes that taste like sunshine and soil. They tell a quiet story of healing, patience, and plenty of bended knees.

A Predictably Unexpected Retirement Path

Let’s be honest—gardening in retirement isn’t exactly a rebellious act. It’s practically a cliché. Right up there with cruise brochures, and finally getting round to sorting out the attic. I’m fully aware I’ve walked straight into one of the most well-worn paths of post-retirement life, seed tray in one hand, cup of tea in the other.

And yet… there’s something wonderfully comforting about that predictability.

Because in a world that often feels chaotic, the garden has given me rhythm, purpose, and more than a few blisters. It may be a stereotypical route, but I can say without a doubt—it’s also been the most healing. The simple act of growing things has restored more than just my vegetable beds.

Who knew that clichés could be so good for the soul?

More Than Just a Garden

This garden isn’t perfect. It’s not even that tidy. But it’s a place where I’ve grown stronger. It grounds me. It reminds me that life—like lettuce—can be unpredictable, but full of flavour if you give it time.

And maybe it’s in my blood. My grandfather would probably raise an eyebrow at my elephant garlic obsession, but I like to think he’d be proud of the journey. From a child trailing behind him to a woman finding peace and purpose in the soil.

What’s Next?

Well, I’ve got plans. Raised beds. Maybe a cold frame. More recipes. Definitely more compost. And always a willingness to try something new.

So if you’re wondering what to do in this next phase of life, consider this your nudge: get your hands dirty. You don’t need a big plot or fancy tools. Just curiosity, a little courage, and an openness to joy.

Because sometimes the best things we grow… are ourselves.

What About You?

• Have you taken up gardening—or another “predictable” retirement hobby—that turned out to be unexpectedly healing?

• What’s been growing in your garden (or life) lately?

• Do you have a favourite recipe that uses homegrown produce? I’d love to hear it!

Drop a comment below—I’d love to swap stories, tips, or even just a photo of your latest carrot (wonky ones especially welcome!).