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The Garden I Forget, And The Garden I Return To

Written by Marnie Corcoran

I don’t go out to my garden every day. I’d love to say I do, but truthfully, the busyness of life gets in the way. I’m a mum, a researcher, a teacher, a friend. My garden sometimes becomes just another task on a long list of things I haven’t done.

There are days when I forget about it entirely. The beds grow wild, the weeds take hold, and guilt creeps, but then, life wobbles, something feels heavy or overwhelming and I remember – I step outside and the garden welcomes me back without question.

It’s in these moments that I notice how I breathe differently among the greenery. The simple act of pulling a few weeds or watching bees move from flower to flower softens the hard edges of the day. I feel my body slow down, my thoughts stretch out. The garden becomes not just a space I grow things in, but a place I go to regulate myself—to reset.

Research supports what many of us have intuitively felt: taking short breaks can significantly improve our wellbeing. A study (Albulescu et al., 2022) found that micro-breaks—brief, informal pauses in our daily routine—can enhance emotional regulation and overall performance. These breaks, especially when spent in restorative environments like gardens, help reduce stress and restore our capacity to focus.

For me, the garden is my micro-break. It doesn’t need to be elaborate. Sometimes it’s five minutes of noticing what’s changed since I last looked. Sometimes it’s just drinking tea near the basil bush. These moments are small, but powerful.

As I’ve leaned into this practice, I’ve also come to recognise the value of integrating mindfulness into my day – whether I’m in the garden or not. A slow breath while the kettle boils. A pause before I speak. A moment of noticing the colour of the sky as I walk to the car. These mindful acts, coupled with time in nature, create a rhythm that supports me through the unpredictable pace of life.

I still forget my garden. I still neglect it. But I’ve stopped feeling guilty about that. Because I know it will be there when I need it. Waiting, quiet, ready to help me return to myself.

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