A Summer of Growth

In the sleepy summer heat, the garden is alive with quiet activity. Curly tendrils wrap around bamboo canes, spiralling upwards and tangling with a nearby rosebush. Bees buzz gently round the lavender flowers and the twitter of birds is carried along on the breeze. Inside is not so peaceful as my four month old son cries upon waking from a nap. Both the garden and my little boy are wonders of nature, growing imperceptibly yet incredibly quickly. Both get me up in the morning (one also wakes me at night) and they’ve both taught me more this summer than I could ever have imagined.

When we moved into the house, the back garden was an uninspiring square patch of grass. Wanting to bring more wildlife, colour and productivity to our small plot, my husband and I dug up the grass, or rather he dug and I directed as early pregnancy tiredness took over, and set about creating a vegetable garden. Growing food was one of the things that brought us together as a couple and it will always be a part of our family life.

Over the coming months I nurtured the soil as I nurtured my growing bump, feeding it with goodness, nutrition and love. As bending over to tend to the garden became more difficult, I contented myself with sitting outside, feeling my baby kick inside me and watching out for the first signs of spring. Later on I threw yet more seeds in the ground, not knowing if I would have the time or energy to bring them to fruition.

And so my focus turned away from the garden and towards my newborn baby. In those first rollercoaster weeks there were moments of intense joy but dark times too - mainly whilst navigating all the ‘helpful’ advice about feeding, sleeping and everything in between. From the hearing test lady in the hospital who told us we were cuddling our baby too much on only his second day in the world, to the family member who suggested we ‘let him cry’ - everyone was quick to offer their opinion on how we should be looking after our newborn
son. We tried our best to ignore this advice, but inevitably it planted seeds of doubt in our vulnerable and tired minds. Could we do this? At times we weren’t so sure.

Outside, left to its own accord and at the mercy of torrential rain and the bright hot sun, the garden grew, blossoming, blooming, sprouting, unperturbed by the life-changing events and daily confidence battles happening inside the house. Before long there were chunky carrot tops poking out of the soil, monstrous courgette plants and an abundance of bright orange nasturtium flowers. Stepping outside with bleary eyes, we discovered delicious beans, tomatoes, salad leaves, carrots, courgettes, and later marrows. All so welcome in feeding our tired bodies through those first few exhausting months of parenting and all tasting so much better than those from the shop.

Inside, things gradually got better, my husband and I growing in confidence as parents, our love for our son giving us more strength every day. When we were ready we spent time in the garden, my little boy gently batting the lavender flowers and pulling at the bean leaves. I hoped these first sensory discoveries would lay the roots for a natural childhood, spent outdoors and close to nature. We will grow vegetables with our son next spring, showing him the food journey from seed to plate, convinced that this small connection to growing will have a positive impact on both him and the planet; growing a child that cares about the wild things and knows where his food comes from in these largely disconnected times. He loved his first summer in the garden, and we hope that by planting a seed, a passion for nature, wildlife and gardening will grow within him.

As summer turns to autumn, growing slows in the garden and it’s time to reflect and restore. My son is almost ready for his first taste of solid food, something that grew in the garden whilst he grew inside me; a steamed green bean or carrot perhaps. What lessons has this growing season taught me? As a new parent, to ignore much of the unsolicited advice and to find my own path, trusting in my instincts and guided by my son. For our family this has meant plenty of cuddles, baby wearing and bed sharing. As a gardener, to let nature get on with it, do it’s thing, taking a gentle supporting role rather than interfering, forcing or controlling. Perhaps parenting and gardening aren’t so different after all. I’ve learnt this summer to trust in Mother Nature and in ourselves as parents, for we each instinctively know how to grow and nurture our tiny miracles.

Heather Endcliffe lives in Sheffield with her husband Chris and son Finley. She is a keen organic gardener and also enjoys walking and wildlife-spotting in the Peak District.