Creating a garden in midlife: childhood memories, family life, and outdoor wellbeing

No screens or devices to distract us

As a mother over 40, I often recall my childhood spent outdoors, bare feet on grass, knees scratched from climbing trees, pockets full of conkers and twigs. There were no screens or devices to distract us, only gardens, fields, and rivers. Those hours shaped my curiosity, patience, and connection to the natural world. Now, as I attempt to recreate that sense of space and life in our own garden, I see how much effort and care it demands.

Childhood in full colour

Primary school memories remain vivid: daisy chains on the playing field, stories under an old oak, riverside explorations that felt like adventures. At home, the garden was alive, snapdragons, marigolds, rose bushes, butterflies, and ladybugs. We made rose petal perfumes, observed insects, and spent afternoons digging, planting, and exploring. These experiences instilled a love of green space and a deep appreciation for being outdoors.

“I remember the smell of freshly turned earth, the sun on my face, and the quiet satisfaction of finding a ladybug in the rose bushes. Those small moments made the garden feel alive and endless.”

The necessity of a garden in midlife

When we moved home, a private garden was essential. Beyond relaxation, it would be a space for sunlight, fresh air, and family connection. Our previous yard had potential but was cold and drab. Even after painting walls and making small improvements, it lacked vitality. The garden became more than an aesthetic wish, it was central to our wellbeing.

Seclusion and space

Out front, we planted 40 Thuja trees to create a natural screen, providing privacy and a quieter environment. The back garden remained untouched, a blank canvas, full of possibility but requiring time, patience, and commitment to bring it to life.

Embracing a challenge

Our new property offered a large garden, yet it had no lawn, no shrubs, nothing to soften the edges. I imagined sweeping hostas, climbing roses, fragrant shrubs, yet late in pregnancy I could not start such a project. The space represented both a challenge and a promise: room for vegetables, herbs, flowers, and spaces to grow over time. It reminded me that creating something meaningful takes effort and patience.

Putting down roots

Eight months later, the garden is still evolving. A few shrubs are planted, the decking and back gate are painted, and a young oak marks Cyrus’s birth. These beginnings already offer a space for family connection and reflection. It is not perfect, but it reflects care, patience, and the values I wish to pass on.

“Now, I watch Cyrus explore the garden, digging in the soil and chasing butterflies. It is in these quiet moments that the effort feels worthwhile, and the space truly comes alive for our family.”

Growing gradually

My approach is simple: start small, nurture what you can, and accept gradual change. Some plants will thrive, others may not survive, but the process is as important as the outcome. Gardening allows pause, observation, and connection with nature and family, offering a sense of wellbeing that is increasingly rare in modern life.