Why are so many women drawn to gardening?

If you have ever put a seed in the ground and then checked on it every hour until it germinated, me too.

Guilty as charged.

I can also admit that once I finally notice the little green sprout stretching from the ground, unfolding into the light, my common response is an incontrollable squeal.

It’s pure joy, and often followed by some variation of:

“Well look at you!!!! Aren’t you the cutest little thing I ever did see?”

Have you ever wondered why so many women are drawn to gardening?

I believe it is in our nature to breathe life into even the smallest spaces.

It’s how we connect to our power as women. As creators.

Whether we are witnessing life emerge from something we planted with our own hands, or simply standing in the sunlight breathing in the energy of a forest, we recognize grace.

A force beyond us.

One that calls us to give life, and then nurture it into its fullest expression without judgement.

There is humility in immersing yourself in nature. Maybe that is where grace resides. In remembering that we aren’t separate from any of this.

We can stand on the river bank as a water droplet, or flow through the river as the current itself.

We can choose to exist either way. But only one reminds us that we belong to the same rhythms and cycles of everything around us.

Women have always had an intimate relationship with the rhythm of nature.

Conventional life can disrupt those connections, drown them out. We get busy. Distracted. Lost. Time passes. Maybe we forget. Our instincts dull. Our trust in ourselves wanes.

Gardening slows us down because although we can create the right conditions for life to grow, we cannot force it to move at a different pace.

We can step into the river, but we cannot tell it how fast to flow.

Spring will awaken when it is ready. Birds will migrate when something ancient tells them it is time. The tides will rise and retreat without permission. A flower will open when it senses the morning light.

And when we become quiet enough to notice those rhythms again, or for the first time, the silence is filled with our own inner voice. Our instincts. Our wisdom. Our power as creators.

Someone who creates a garden, creates a community. It isn’t a plant or two in the ground. You have breathed life into this space and invited it to thrive under your protection.

But you have also given yourself something in return: the opportunity to learn through observation, through patience.

You begin to trust without force, realizing not everything requires intervention. Adjustments are made carefully, gently. Nurturing isn’t control.

In the space between tending and trusting, beauty blossoms.

Maybe that is the real gift of a garden.

It teaches us what to let go of.

The distractions.

Expected timelines.

The need to control and force.

When you let go of something, you inevitably make room for something else.

Intuition and trust.

Grace and beauty.

And life.

So much life.

Oct 7. 2026