I’ve never been what you’d call a patient person.

I’m not “wait and see.” I’m not “good things take time.” I’m not even “let it simmer.” I’m more… “results, please, and preferably yesterday.”

I’ve always envied people who can stretch out their pleasures, who savour things, who delay gratification like it’s some kind of Olympic sport. My husband, for example, can make a chocolate bar last an entire hour. He eats one square, puts the rest away, and apparently feels satisfied.

I watch this with a mixture of confusion and mild concern.

Because if I buy a chocolate bar? I eat the chocolate bar. Immediately. All of it. That is the entire point of a chocolate bar. If the universe wanted me to ration it, it would’ve wrapped the pieces individually like aspirin.

But life, for reasons I still consider questionable, decided to hand me a hobby that absolutely depends on the one skill I naturally lack: patience. And it handed it to me 25 years ago in the form of gardening.

I did not ask for this.

But gardening doesn’t care what kind of personality you have. Gardening is an unrelenting, unbothered, benevolent tyrant. It will teach you patience whether you want the lesson or not.

Lesson one: toddlers are not compatible with flowering schedules

When my daughter was a toddler…sweet, innocent, delightful…she walked the entire length of our veranda and snapped every single agapanthus flower stalk just as they were due to open.

Every. Single. One.

And did I lose my mind?

Yes, privately.

And then I learned patience, because I had to wait an entire year to see them bloom again.

Lesson two: puppies have no respect for your arboreal dreams

Then came the puppy, now eight years old, who excitedly ran through my garden, found my young oak tree, and snapped it in half like a breadstick. That oak was meant to be majestic someday.

And then I learned patience, because instead of watching my tree thrive, I bought another one, planted it, and waited another whole year just to get back to zero.

Lesson three: nature also enjoys a bit of chaos

My Liquidambar tree once lost its main leader on a windy day, which is a very poetic way of saying: it got wrecked. Its entire structure was destroyed.

And then I learned patience as it took three full years before it even resembled a tree again.

Lesson four: perennial borders don’t care about your timelines

Five years ago, I planted my perennial borders. They were scrappy. Bald. Slightly tragic.

I wanted them luscious and full immediately, but apparently “instant maturity” is not an option at checkout.

Now, five years later, they’re finally established. But the journey? Pure patience bootcamp.

Lesson five: budgeting is also a garden constraint (annoyingly)

My dream is to have the whole garden finished yesterday. Fully landscaped, mature, overflowing, magazine-worthy.

But budgets exist, which means some dreams require saving. Waiting. Pausing. Coming back later.

But I’ve learned patience, so I’m okay with that. Sort of.

Somewhere along the way, patience actually grew on me

I’ve just created a new shrub border, and I know it’s going to take a solid five years before it looks anything like the vision in my head.

And I’m… okay with that. As in, genuinely okay.

I’m even okay that the cutting garden isn’t in the budget yet, because the shrub borders aren’t quite finished anyway. Old me would have been twitchy. New me is more mellow. Occasionally still dramatic, but mellow enough.

Gardening: the personality training regimen no one asked for

I’m now absolutely convinced that gardening is a long, slow, humbling life lesson that quietly turns you into a better human being. Yes, it gives you flowers and exercise and joy and Vitamin D and a place to hide when you’re avoiding people, but it also cultivates qualities you didn’t have before.

In my case? Patience. Hard-won, begrudged, but genuinely real.

So, if you, like me, have ever wanted your garden to be in its 10-year glory phase right now, immediately, before you’ve even finished your cup of tea… well, gardening has news for you.

You’ll get there. Just not today. But that’s okay.

And somewhere along the way, you might just find you’ve grown as much as your garden.

Did you know?

Plants can remember stress. If they’ve been through drought, heat, or other tough conditions once, they often respond faster and more efficiently the next time it happens. It’s not memory as we know it… more like botanical “been there, done that.”

What to do in your garden this week

Northern Hemisphere

🌳Trees and shrubs - Remove dead, damaged or crossing branches while structure is visible.
🍅Veggie garden - Plan your crop rotation and seed order now (future you will be grateful).
🥬Sow undercover: onions, leeks, early brassicas, winter lettuce (heated greenhouse or bright windowsill).
🫛Clear spent crops and add healthy material to compost.
🪻Turn compost heaps if not frozen; active heaps may still be warm.
💦Avoid walking on wet soil to prevent compaction.

Photos: I see a lot of snow photos and videos on Instagram from those I follow in the Northern Hemisphere at the moment. Here’s a few photos of a snow dump we had in 2024. We don’t get snow every winter, but it’s also not unusual to get one or two decent dumps.

Southern Hemisphere

🍏 Net fruit trees to protect from birds (they’re faster than you).
🍎Thin fruit if branches are overloaded.
💦 Check irrigation - fruiting trees need consistent moisture now
🌸 Cut back spring-flowering plants once finished.
💦 Keep compost moist, not dry - summer heaps can stall.
💚 Mow lawns higher to reduce stress and water loss

Photos: it’s lily time in my garden at the moment. Here’s a bit of a selection. Unknown red Martagnon lily paired with pink Elodie; Whistler; I think “London Heart” is the deep red with dark centre; Landini.

What’s new on Behind the Garden Gate?

🪻Nitty gritty: this week it’s all about adding vertical interest to your garden design to create real wow factor with low effort.
🤨Earn an income from your garden: find out why I’m kicking myself BIG TIME. I feel like I’m starting all over again, but I also feel like I’ve now worked out a critical source of success when it comes to monetising your garden, earning an income and creating a means of earning additional income during retirement.
📷Snapshot shed: as always, more photos to inspire your gardening journey.

If you’d like to sign up to Behind the Garden Gate to access the growing library of plant knowledge, garden humour, cheat sheets and even how to monetise your garden, open this newsletter fully by clicking the link at the bottom of the email. It’ll show a sign-up button right below this sentence. Anyone who signs up using an annual membership gets a free copy of my design guide emailed within 24 hours. Or if you’re not sure and just want to try it out, it’s $5/month and you can cancel anytime. So have a look and see if it’s for you. No obligation to continue, and no Dear John letters required if you want to opt out.

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Photo: the companion planting combos are going strong in The Whitehouse now. Nasturtium, chives, sage, rosemary, mint, marigolds, and thyme all play a part in keeping the bugs at bay.