Hetty Henley | Gardener | Designer @ Butter Wakefield | Subscribe to my newsletter ‘Still Growing’ for peaceful reflections from my garden
Oxfordshire, UK
Joined August 2017
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I am so grateful for all the kind and thoughtful messages I’ve received recently. It truly means so much to know that what I am putting out there is resonating with others.
I’m excited to introduce ‘Still Growing’ - a free weekly newsletter where I share what the garden is teaching me about patience, care and the slow unfolding of growth.
Still Growing is for anyone who finds meaning in tending to things that grow slowly- whether that’s a garden, a life, or something in between.
Through personal reflections and small glimpses into my own garden, I hope to offer a quiet pause in your week and a reminder that you’re never growing alone.
To subscribe, click the link in my bio 💚
The older I get the more I understand why people disappear into art, music, gardening, books and quiet lives.
Whenever life feels overwhelming, I go to the garden - it is where my mind slows down and I begin to feel calmer.
Yet the garden is never really still. When I pause for long enough, I notice that movement is everywhere. Bees drift from flower to flower. Butterflies dance between the borders. Birds and leaves sway in the breeze and water catches the light of the shifting sun.
It is this quiet movement that settles me. And although the garden never stops moving, it is the calmest thing I know.
These are the moments I almost miss. They never demand my attention, and they’re usually gone before I realise they’ve passed. I’ve learnt that a beautiful life is made of noticing them. I’m still learning how to slow down enough to catch them
Nell Henley was born on 1st May, weighing 8.4 pounds.
For the first week I mostly lived in our bedroom eating ‘NHS toast’ - thick white buttered toast with cups of tea, unaware of what was going on outside. It was such a relief to be out the other side and home.
Those first few nights I was anxious, the responsibility somehow felt heavier when everything was quiet. But each morning the birds would sing at dawn and I’d feel calmer. The light would filter through the curtains and each sunrise felt like its own small victory.
We managed to do some gardening for the first time yesterday, deadheading roses together. It’s all passing by so fast. One of the strangest feelings is knowing how much I am going to miss these moments whilst I am still living them. Being in the garden with her I kept double taking - it’s hard to believe she is really here and this is really happening.
I’m so happy to be back outside and posting again. I’ll keep trying my best to take each day as it comes. I’m so grateful for these moments 💚
There’s a strange point in life where you’re caught between not wanting to rush… and not wanting to waste time.
I’ve just planted spinach, salad leaves, peppers and strawberries. They needed planting - but trying to force them to grow will only make things worse.
A good gardener lives in that in-between state, able to invest in the garden now while patiently waiting for what’s to come. The art of gardening is doing what you can, when you can, and letting the rest take its time. It’s knowing when to step back too - not overwatering, just letting things establish.
The seasons of our lives are a reflection of the seasons around us. We aren’t so different - things reveal themselves over time. Learning to hold both impatience and patience is one of our biggest challenges, but also one of our biggest opportunities.
If a good gardener trusts in nature and her rhythm, maybe we should learn to trust ourselves a little more too.
Sometimes I don’t want to figure things out. I simply want to exist, to enjoy bird song, solitude, the bluebells and my garden.