The garden sat behind the building, not hidden exactly, just easy to overlook. Most people passed it on the way to the parking lot without stopping. I went the long way on purpose. Choosing the longer path was how I practiced freedom—not the dramatic kind, but the kind that let me decide how my body moved through space.
I started with the soil beds, still dark from the previous night’s rain. Soil microbes release compounds that plants use to communicate and grow, and exposure to soil bacteria has been associated with immune regulation and mood effects in humans (Lowry et al.). I did not kneel yet. I stood and breathed first. Acceptance meant entering slowly.
The basil plants were the easiest to read. Leaves firm, edges clean. Healthy plant growth depends on adequate sunlight and consistent watering rather than frequent fertilizer use, which can stress roots when overapplied (University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources). I pinched off one flowering tip, knowing that allowing basil to flower can reduce leaf production. That small act felt like cooperation rather than control.
I moved to the tomatoes next. Their stems leaned toward the light, uneven but determined. Plants exhibit phototropism, growing toward light sources to maximize photosynthesis (Taiz et al.). Watching that movement over weeks had changed how I thought about progress. Growth did not happen evenly. It happened directionally.
Kneeling came later. Gardening involves light-to-moderate physical activity that supports joint mobility and cardiovascular health, especially when movements are paced and intentional (Park et al.). I used a knee pad and shifted positions often. Health, for me, was not about endurance. It was about avoiding the pain that came from ignoring limits.
A neighbor passed by and waved. We did not talk. That was fine. Exposure to green spaces is associated with reduced stress and improved emotional regulation, even without social interaction (Bratman et al.). Nature did not require performance. It allowed presence without explanation.
I pulled one weed slowly, making sure to loosen the soil first. Yanking damages surrounding roots, including those of nearby plants you want to keep. Gardening teaches patience because force often causes harm that is not immediately visible. Acceptance lived in that lesson. Not everything responded well to urgency.
Afterward, I washed my hands at the outdoor sink. The smell of soil lingered anyway. That was not a problem. Studies suggest that interaction with natural environments can support mental restoration by reducing cognitive fatigue (Kaplan). I felt that restoration not as happiness, but as quiet.
Freedom showed up when I decided to stop. The beds were not perfect. There was still work to do. But stopping before exhaustion protected tomorrow. I walked back the long way again, letting the garden remain unfinished.
Plants do not rush their cycles. They respond to light, water, and time. Learning to move at their pace had changed mine. Health followed acceptance. Freedom followed choice. Nature did the rest without asking to be thanked.
Works Cited (MLA)
Bratman, Gregory N., et al. “Nature Experience Reduces Rumination and Subgenual Prefrontal Cortex Activation.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol. 112, no. 28, 2015, pp. 8567–8572.
Kaplan, Stephen. “The Restorative Benefits of Nature.” Journal of Environmental Psychology, vol. 15, no. 3, 1995, pp. 169–182.
Lowry, Christopher A., et al. “The Microbiota, Immunoregulation, and Mental Health.” Neuroscience, vol. 246, 2013, pp. 134–154.
Park, Sin-Ae, et al. “Metabolic Cost of Gardening Tasks.” Journal of Physical Activity and Health, vol. 11, no. 3, 2014, pp. 563–568.
Taiz, Lincoln, et al. Plant Physiology and Development. 6th ed., Sinauer Associates, 2015.
University of California Agriculture and Natural Resources. “Fertilizing Garden Plants.” UC ANR, ucanr.edu.
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