Your Garden is Listening

This month, as spring deepens and the garden begins to hum with life, I invite you to step outside with quiet wonder. Listen—really listen—and you may find your garden speaking to you. Through the unfurling of leaves, the buzz of pollinators, and the warmth rising from the soil, nature offers a gentle invitation: tend to me, and I will tend to you.

Tending a garden is much like tending a relationship. It asks us to show up with attention and care, not just when it’s convenient, but consistently, even in small ways. The work doesn’t need to be grand to be meaningful. A few weeds pulled between rain showers, a moment spent checking on new seedlings, a bowl of compost offered back to the earth—all of these acts are heard. Your garden notices.

This season is ripe with meaning. We’ve just passed through Beltane, the old Celtic celebration of fertility and fire, when the veil between worlds is thin and the earth brims with potential. We also approach Mother’s Day—a moment to honor those who nurture life in all its forms. Whether you’re planting for pollinators, feeding your family, or simply giving a patch of earth the chance to flourish, you are participating in a lineage of care that is ancient and sacred.

The beauty of this time lies in its subtlety. The cherry blossoms may be gone, but look closer: the bees are back, the soil is warming, and new shoots are emerging daily. Even a modest planting—a pot of herbs, a corner of native wildflowers—can offer sanctuary to birds, insects, and the deeper parts of ourselves that crave connection.

As you move through your garden this month, consider practicing the art of doing a little, often. Let the sunny breaks between rain showers become your cue to step outside. Tend to what you notice. Observe what’s waking up. Let your hands be led by curiosity, not just by a to-do list.

Above all, be kind to your garden—and to yourself. Growth takes time. Listening takes presence. But both will reward you, again and again.