A Millennial's Attempt to Garden

Okay, so I didn’t really even try to garden… All I did was clean up the patio area outside of my apartment building with the help of my neighbor. 

Still—the work was different than what I’m used to. 

I have often romanticized this type of work. Using your hands to clean a space. To transform it from something broken, dirty, and forgotten into a precious place filled with magic. 

From watching Fixer Upper and YouTubers like Jonna Jinton and Fairyland Cottage, I’ve been mystified by the satisfaction of laboring with your own two hands. Cleaning, gardening, reshaping. All of these things look so beautiful on film. 

The truth is, it’s dirty work. 

And for two arachnophobes, downright terrifying. 

The amount of times we shrieked when something tiny moved in the leaves is comical. Honestly, I only wish I’d filmed our day cleaning the space. It consisted of picking up pots then dropping them with a scream then gathering all the bravery we had to pick them up again. 

There were shudders, shakes, and delicate movements that didn’t get much done at all. 

I was shocked by how tired my arms felt as I used a sweeper to push away leaves and moss from the ground. The dirt that covered my legs, arms, and gloves was something I wasn’t used to. The sweat that dripped from me was a different type of sweat. It felt so much thicker than the sweat that streams down as I fumble around during online HIIT workouts. 

Still, we were somehow able to compost dying plants, remove unused planters, clear out dead vines, reposition pots and an old charcoal grill, wipe off the moss-covered bench, and clean off the oversized chair. The result is a magical spot that feels like a secret garden in the middle of this urban landscape. 

My neighbor turned to me and said, “I get why all the old people garden now,” he said, “it’s something to do besides watching TV.”

I laughed but the appeal of what he said rang true. At the same time, I was acutely aware of how prissy I really was. Is prissy a real word? Anyway, I didn’t like getting dirty. I didn’t like avoiding cobwebs and still getting them stuck in my hair. I didn’t like little crawling insects that scuttled out from beneath the fallen leaves. 

The work was not romantic. It was dirty and difficult. 

But the result was rewarding. 

After we’d showered and rested for a while, we met back outside in this newly cleared space. We enjoyed wine in metal cups and listened to soft music as the light began to fade. 

I’m still no gardener and I’m not sure if my next attempt will be to bring new plants to life out there. However, I did purchase a real pair of gardening gloves, so you tell me…