The Garden Is Growing More Than Vegetables | Remembering a Simpler Way
- Lori Chown
- Jul 6
- 3 min read
This year I planted my first garden.
Not a few pots on the deck.
Not a tomato plant tucked beside the house.
A real garden.
I thought I was planting vegetables.
Instead, I've found myself growing patience, curiosity, gratitude, and wonder.
Every day brings something new.
Which seedlings appeared overnight?
What started blooming?
What was finally ready to harvest?
Every morning, nature has another surprise waiting.
One day it's the first tomato blossom.
Another, a tiny eggplant peeking out beneath a delicate purple flower.
The next morning, a squash blossom opens with the sunrise, as if celebrating a brand-new day.
Some mornings I pick fresh lettuce for lunch.
Other days it's sweet pea pods that never make it back to the house because they're too tempting to eat right there in the garden.
Little by little, the garden is becoming more than a place to grow food.
It's becoming a place to slow down.
Remembering a Simpler Way
As I wander through the garden each morning, I can't help but notice something beyond my own healing.
There seems to be a quiet shift happening.
More people are baking bread.
Planting gardens.
Visiting farmers' markets.
Cooking from scratch.
Spending more time outside.
Choosing whole foods over processed foods.
Learning skills that previous generations simply called everyday life.
Before so much became automated.
Before convenience often replaced connection.
Before food became something we opened instead of something we grew.
Maybe we're not stepping backward at all.
Maybe we're remembering what we've always known.
That healing and health often begin with the simplest things.
Sometimes it begins by planting a seed.
Sometimes it begins by taking a walk.
Sometimes it begins by preparing a meal from ingredients we grew ourselves.
Perhaps the healing we're searching for has been quietly waiting for us all along.
Nature Never Rushes
One of my favorite discoveries has been the eggplant.
I've always loved eating them, but until this summer I'd never watched one grow.
Seeing a soft lavender flower slowly become a beautiful purple vegetable has filled me with childlike wonder.
Nature doesn't rush.
The flower doesn't force itself to become fruit.
It simply unfolds.
I wonder if we're meant to grow that way too.
More Than Food
Growing a garden has changed my relationship with food.
Before this summer, vegetables simply appeared in the grocery store.
Now I see everything that came before them.
The seed.
The rain.
The pollinators.
The sunshine.
The waiting.
Fresh lettuce tastes different when you've watched it grow.
Tomatoes mean more when you've admired their yellow blossoms.
Even pulling weeds becomes part of the experience.
You begin appreciating the rain instead of wishing it away.
You celebrate the sunshine.
You notice the bees.
You realize that every meal begins long before it reaches your plate.
Growing with Nature
Perhaps that's why gardening feels so fulfilling.
We're not only growing vegetables.
We're growing gratitude.
We're growing patience.
We're growing hope.
We're growing a deeper appreciation for the Earth that quietly provides for us every single day.
Nature has a way of reminding us that everything has its season.
Every blossom.
Every harvest.
Every chapter of life.
Maybe we aren't returning to nature.
Maybe we're simply remembering that we've belonged here all along.
Tomorrow as I wander between the rows to see what changed overnight, maybe there will be another blossom. Maybe another tiny vegetable waiting to surprise me. Whatever I find, I know the garden will have another lesson to share.
And perhaps that's the greatest harvest of all. 🌿
Reflection
What has nature been growing in you lately?
