Falling in Love with a Wilder Garden
There is a gentle authority in the way the seasons turn, if only we stop to listen.
It was early May when the conversation started, leaning over the garden gate with our neighbour. He is of a slower, wiser generation, someone who seems to move in perfect sync with nature's own quiet rhythms. As we stood there, with the first mow of the season looming, he spoke of things growing naturally, of the beauty in the “unruly,” and the life that stirs when we simply step back. (It is from this conversation I will forever see nettles as egg-protecting spaces for new butterflies).
He called it No Mow May, which emulated the sense of the “rewilding” we read about today. His words immediately planted a seed. Mark and I looked at our outside space and, right then, we decided to tuck the mower away.
As we wait
Inside the cottage, life continued at its usual hum. Monty (our cat), ever the inspector, took up his post on the windowsill, his eyes tracking the new, taller world unfolding just beyond the glass.
Outside, the air was thick with that damp, earthy aroma that only a British spring can conjure.
Monty, ever the inspector, tracking the new taller world beyond the glass
It was clear to see that when you stop “managing” a garden, you start to truly see it. By the third week, our lawn wasn't just grass anymore; it was a sea of daisies, dandelions, thistles and even a surprise flurry of bluebells. It felt magical — like having our own secret meadow, right at our doorstep.
And what we could see was a true gift but the surprise and complete joy was found when I got down to ground level... because there, tucked away in the “long” tufts were tiny, beautifully formed undiscovered treasures, treasures we would have completely missed without a second thought.
Speedwell — Veronica chamaedrys
Monty joined me as I lay in the grass taking photos of our miniature world of flora; together we found the papery petals of pure white Primrose, vibrant blue Speedwell, and even the tiniest of violets, which were so delicate they looked like they'd been painted there by a steady, invisible hand.
Primrose — Primula Vulgaris
Whilst enjoying the space we had let nature create, I was thinking about all the additional food this mini meadow was providing for our friendly bees, and right at that moment a bee joined us.
Rewilding isn't just about the bees; it's also about the peace we, as people, live in the “un-neat.” It is our invitation to embrace the natural cadence of life, to celebrate the un-managed, and find escapism in the very grass beneath our feet.
Forget Me Not — Myosotis
I hope you have enjoyed our little story. Here's hoping you may get to experience your very own magical meadow one day too.
If you would like to watch a short video featuring not only our cottage garden flora but also our little star Monty, press here (play with sound for full effect).
Our Gentle Footprint Blog Series is where we share the small, quiet choices we make; in the brands we stock, the packaging we use, and the way we tend our very own little patch of earth in our cottage garden.
Our Ethos: Small things, done with intention.
Rosie & Mark xx
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