Reflections from the Grounded Garden
Exploring connection, self-discovery, and the quiet magic of community gardening
Bounty
Another ten weeks in the garden have come and gone.
How is it mid-October already?
Sitting here, one week after we wrapped up, I’m feeling grateful, thoughtful, (a little sad) and in awe of what has unfolded. This is the third time I’ve had the privilege of facilitating Grounded, a therapeutic horticulture group at CERES Brunswick, and each round has its own unique rhythm.
Every group is different, naturally. The people, the stories, the energy, the weather — all of these shape the journey and inform our time together. Yet the essence remains the same: growth, connection, and discovery. We come together as strangers to learn about gardening, but also much more than that.
Over the weeks, I’ve had the joy of watching confidence grow, friendships develop and take root, and conversations that range from light catch-ups to deep and vulnerable explorations fill the space where uncertainty and even worry once were. Some moments are quiet — a meditation, gentle focus on soil and seedlings, or holding space for someone feeling low. Others are full of chatter, sharing of ideas and inspiration, enthusiastic encouragement, and joy.
Friends in the garden
If we let go and allow it to do its thing, gardening has the power to lead us on a journey of self-discovery too. It has a way of slowing us down, inviting reflection, and reminding us of our capacity to nurture, create, and adapt. For some, the beginning of their gardening journey can feel overwhelming, and even taking a first step can seem like a lot. But we breathe through that too. We start with small steps, achievable goals, the joy of experimentation, and the acceptance of varying outcomes.
One of the things I love most about Grounded is the creation of a gentle, safe space that invites openness and honesty. A window of calm in our week, allowing us to bring in the messy and the weird, the beautiful and the painful — knowing we’ll be met with listening, patience, and curiosity. It’s in that space that we find the courage to take those small steps that can lead to something beautiful.
Sharing a meal
A newly formed Grounded tradition is wrapping up with a shared lunch, prepared by participants with produce planted, cared for, and harvested by the group. It feels like such a celebration — not just of the food we grew, but of the care, teamwork, and time that brought it to the table. Sitting together and sharing that meal feels like a moment where everything comes full circle.
Every group teaches me something new, and I feel so lucky to witness these connections grow — between people, with the land, and within themselves.
I’d love to hear from you — have you been part of a gardening or community group that left a lasting impression? What moments of connection or growth have stayed with you?