“The birds, insects, and plants do not judge us for being ourselves here.”
Jess Marshall (she/they) on ADHD and gardening
“So, did you have any plans for the old greenhouse frame -” I cursed internally as I let slip my plans for the old gazebo frame in our backyard. My intention had been to check with everyone in the house before claiming it for my little project of building a sturdier greenhouse out of recycled materials. Thankfully for me, my household (consisting of three adults, two kids, two cats, a dog and a rabbit) are pretty supportive of my various outdoor projects. and turns out, no one had plans for the gazebo frame.
The inspiration to build a sturdy greenhouse came on yet another rainy weekend morning, another morning rained out of my garden. It has been unseasonably cold, wet, and windy here in the maritimes this year (an average of 7-10 degrees celsius cooler than most springs). The wind took my miniature, commercially purchased greenhouse on a dance across the yard last week, killing off any seedlings which had managed to sprout in the unheated greenhouse. This loss is just one common loss experienced with gardening, one which I’ve become accustomed to in my casual gardening journey over the last several years.
An old shed sits amidst a vibrant and chaotic garden. The photograph is overlayed by one translucent circle and a half-circle of marigold.
I have come to value gardening (or horticulture, if we’re going to get fancy about it) for its therapeutic and practical value in my family's life. If I am being honest, it offers more therapeutic value than practical crops, as I am no expert in this field. Casual gardener feels like a better descriptive title - low pressure and no expectation. The garden is a freeing place for me.
I am a late-diagnosed ADHD AFAB individual and unmasking is an ongoing process of growth for me. One area I have found the most ease in this has been in the garden. I have found this as well for my oldest child, now 8 and also ADHD. The garden is offering the opportunity to be herself and build confidence. Though we were as active in seeking her diagnosis as possible, professionals here wouldn’t entertain diagnosis until school age, and then it was over a year to have the proper assessments and accommodations in place for her in school. That first year of constant correction and discipline by a particularly critical teacher caused a change. My once very outspoken, very confident, 8 year old became hesitant, perfectionistic, and often seeking permission where she would once be willing to try things on her own.
The garden then became a place of exploring, a place of gentle encouragement of her independence. In the garden she could be loud, she could move about in her happy, sporadic, and self-regulating ways. As her parent, it became important for me to hold space and encourage her to try things where the outcome could not be guaranteed.
“How am I supposed to plant it?” she asked one day, holding a potato which had begun to sprout. I encouraged her exploration by replying with “How would you like to plant it?” This received a frown and protest from her, as she struggled with accepting the non-answer. I encouraged her by explaining that she can plant the potato however she liked, and that I often did so when I planted things in the garden. It is a place where you do not have to follow strict rules.
Are there suggestions on the back of a seed packet? Typically yes.
Do I follow them? Typically no.
In the end she decided to plant the potato with the sprouts facing up and buried it under the dirt while leaving a good length of the sprouts exposed. Now, if you are an avid gardener - I am sure you may have some opinions on this. However, we are casual gardeners and our garden is a constant experiment.
We experiment with how we plant seeds, seedlings, potatoes. We experiment with how we feel about losing greenhouses to the wind or losing plants to pests, birds, and squirrels. We experiment with our fear of bugs and bees, while learning to co-exist with them. We experiment by building garden structures out of reused materials, or sticks, or whatever works for us at the time. It is through this experimenting with emotion, creativity, and patience in waiting for our plants to grow that we find healing.
My daughter will be asked to be still, be quiet, listen, pay attention, stop interrupting, to rein in her excitement, to be more appropriate etc.. throughout her school days, as was I. Despite us knowing about her ADHD early, and despite her having what the school deems appropriate as accommodations. I know that she is still likely to grow up thinking that she is too much for other people, for neurotypical people, that she doesn’t do things “right” (aka - neurotypically). It is difficult to see. I can, and will, continue to advocate for her in school. I will continue to encourage her to do the same, and to lean into the unique way she sees the world. We will continue to use our garden as an experiment. A place where my 1,001 ADHD impulse projects lay half-finished or yet to be started. The garden does not mind. The birds, insects, and plants do not judge us for being ourselves here.
So as the last frost dates approach for much of Canada, I encourage you to think about doing some casual gardening of your own. Whether that be a basil plant in your window sill, a community garden plot full of zucchini, or, like myself, about 34 tomato plant seedlings when you don’t even eat tomatoes! (Don’t worry, we donate them!)
Rather than take my word for it, I also recommend taking a moment to read about the benefits of being outdoors, of gardening, and of unmasking in nature with these articles that continue to discuss the benefits of nature on mental health:
https://chadd.org/adhd-news/adhd-news-caregivers/green-time-for-adhd/
https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/blog/think-act-be/201906/10-mental-health-benefits-of-gardening
For us, we will continue our chaotic, casual gardening journey - just as soon as I repurpose some old construction project plastic into a cover for the unused gazebo out back, so we can begin to plant anew after losing our previous greenhouse seedlings!
A view across a balcony where tomato plants are trellised along the railing and rosemary grows. A black and white cat observes the landscape beyond and in the foreground, a book is opened to a page that reads “Part II Food Prosperity and Building Community”
Jess Marshall (she/they)
MA, RCT, RP
