What I Learned Trying to Build Garden Circles

On letting go of what wasn’t growing, and paying attention to what was.

When I first started Seed & Season Garden Society, I was genuinely excited about the idea of gathering women together in gardens.

The original vision for the garden circles was never about taking a class, building a network, or finding another way to be productive. I imagined something much quieter than that.

I envisioned a handful of people gathering simply to connect with one another through the shared language of gardens, seasons, and ordinary life. No pressure to perform. No need to impress anyone. Just real conversation, fresh air, and the rare feeling of being fully present with other people.

I’ve always been someone who feels deeply connected to the rhythms of nature, to seasons, to emotion, and to the quieter forms of spirituality that are hard to explain.

I thought garden circles might be a way to find those people.

Like many people in Idaho, I’m not originally from here. I moved from Arizona six years ago, though most of my 30s were spent moving all over the country while working as a flight attendant. In many ways, I spent years living in transit. Airports, hotels, new cities, temporary friendships. Then in 2020, I decided it was finally time to put down roots.

And in some ways, I have.

I planted nearly 70 trees, watched countless hours of YouTube learning how how to grow food, and created a home.

But finding community has been slower.

So when I started putting flyers up around my town and inviting gardeners to gather together, it felt hopeful. The first circle was lovely. Sitting with people talking honestly about gardens, seasons, life, and what was growing both in the ground and in ourselves felt meaningful to me.

But after that first gathering, the momentum slowed.

I started running Facebook ads and had plenty of people express interest, but far fewer people actually showed up. At first, I found that frustrating. But I also understood it.

People are tired.

Women especially are carrying so much right now. Work, children, relationships, aging parents, financial pressure, overstimulation, constant notifications, endless obligations. Even the things we want to do can start feeling like one more thing to fit into an already crowded week.

And if I’m being honest, I felt that too.

The irony is that while I was trying to create in-person connection for other women, I was also navigating my own limitations. Long drives over the hill, scheduling around naps and family life. Trying to build something meaningful while also recognizing that my own season of life has changed.

At some point, I realized something important:

I don’t believe in forcing things that aren’t unfolding naturally.

Gardening teaches me that constantly; you can prepare the soil, you can water consistently, you can create the conditions…

But you cannot force growth that isn’t ready.

And so instead of trying harder, pushing harder, or pretending something was working when it wasn’t, I decided to pay attention.

Not to failure, but to rhythm.

Because I think what I was really searching for underneath the garden circles was connection. Not necessarily a scheduled gathering in the middle of the week, but a place where people could pause for a moment and feel connected to something slower, quieter, and more honest.

And maybe in today’s world, that connection doesn’t always happen around a physical table.

Maybe sometimes it happens through a podcast someone listens to while folding laundry. Or through an article read early on a Saturday morning before the rest of the house wakes up. Maybe it happens through recognizing yourself in someone else’s words while sitting alone on your couch.

I think many of us are longing for community, but we’re also exhausted.

So for now, Seed & Season is evolving.

Less about gathering in person and more about creating a space people can return to in their own time.

A place to reflect on gardens, seasons, womanhood, beauty, limitation, growth, and the realities of building a life in a world that often feels too loud and too fast.

And honestly, that feels more true to this season anyway.

Cheers,

Ashley