Garden stories

I never thought of myself as a garden person. I was actually an complete opposite of one. I always thought that gardens meant lots of work, but not that much pleasure. I grew up in a big city, living in an apartment with a balcony and I always thought that it was enough. A balcony to seat outside in the evening, but if I wanted something more I always could go to a park.

And so it was for a long time. Even when we started talking about moving to the country I thought that whatever garden we’d have, it will be all grass and maybe a few flowers here and there. Now, we are a few years later with almost a year of living in a small village, with two quite big gardens, and it turns out I am a garden person.

I love working in the garden, weeding, sowing, planting, re-planting, getting my hands dirty. It’s such a (literally) grounding experience. And the joy of seeing the growth of something I planted or the little shoots were I’ve put the seeds is simply amazing.

Every morning I go out to the garden to check on the strawberries, and thyme, dill, chard, radishes, corn, fig trees, sunflowers and all the other flowers I sowed. Every time I see a change, a new leaf or some small shoots sticking out of the ground I jump with joy and do a little happy dance.

We want our gardens to be pollinators friendly and to give us some herbs, veggies and fruit. We don’t want a perfect garden, we want a happy garden and it seems that we’re doing something good as our gardens are buzzing and we’re very happy with it.


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