Cups & Curiosity

This spring, I decided to try something completely new: gardening.

If you had asked me a year ago if I saw myself spending evenings watering plants and inspecting leaves for signs of growth, I probably would have laughed. Yet here I am, proudly tending to a tiny garden that consists of basil, curly parsley, thyme, tomatoes, strawberries, and one very suspicious citronella plant.

The gardening project actually started because of my backyard.

For years, it felt boring and empty. It was just a space that existed behind my house, not somewhere I wanted to spend time. After a busy day of work, school, and life’s endless responsibilities, I realized I was craving something simple: a quiet place that felt like my own.

So I started creating one.

First came a few shrubs to add some life and color. Then I found the cutest solar-powered bunny statues that now sit tucked among the plants. I added comfortable patio chairs where I can curl up with a book or a cup of tea. A small fire pit became the centerpiece for cool evenings, and string lights stretched across the yard transformed the space after sunset.

Little by little, my plain backyard started to feel magical.

Now, when the sun goes down and the lights begin to glow, it feels like a tiny escape from the world. It’s not fancy or perfect, but it’s mine. It’s a place where I can sit quietly, listen to the sounds of nature, and simply breathe.

The garden became part of that transformation.

I planted basil, curly parsley, and thyme in a small herb garden, imagining future meals made with ingredients I grew myself. I added a tomato plant and a strawberry plant, hopeful that one day they might actually produce something edible. And because summer on Long Island means constantly swatting away mosquitoes, I planted a citronella plant.

The citronella plant, however, has already failed its first performance review.

While watering it one evening, I was bitten by a mosquito. Right next to the citronella plant.

I don’t know what that plant is doing, but it certainly isn’t protecting me.

Despite its lack of effort, I’ve genuinely fallen in love with the process of gardening. There is something incredibly calming about stepping outside each day to check on the plants. I find myself celebrating tiny victories, like a new leaf appearing or a flower beginning to bloom.

Gardening has become an unexpected form of mindfulness. When I’m watering plants or pulling a weed, my attention shifts away from work emails, deadlines, and all the little worries that tend to occupy my mind. For those moments, I’m focused on something simple and tangible.

I’ve also learned that gardening teaches patience in a way few hobbies can. You can’t rush growth. You can’t demand tomatoes tomorrow just because you watered the plant today. You plant, nurture, and trust the process.

In many ways, that lesson mirrors life itself.

We often put pressure on ourselves to have everything figured out immediately. We want instant results, instant success, and instant answers. But growth rarely works that way. Sometimes the most meaningful changes happen slowly, quietly, and beneath the surface before we can see them.

Creating this little backyard retreat and learning to garden has reminded me of the importance of slowing down. The herbs may take time to grow. The tomatoes may or may not survive under my care. The strawberries might decide they have other plans entirely.

But every evening spent sitting beneath the string lights, surrounded by bunny statues, plants, and the soft glow of the garden, feels like a small gift to myself.

What began as an attempt to make an empty backyard feel less lonely has become a peaceful ritual. It’s a place to read, think, journal, watch the fire flicker, and enjoy the stillness that can be so hard to find in everyday life.

And honestly, that’s worth far more than a few homegrown tomatoes.

Although I would still appreciate it if the citronella plant finally started pulling its weight.

Journal Prompt

What space in your life could use a little more care, attention, or creativity? What small changes could you make to turn it into a place that brings you peace?