January, Judgment, and a Breath of Fresh Air - Kind to Yourself Gardening

Embrace the Green: Why Regenerative Gardening Matters

The New Year, like menopause can arrive like a whirlwind—emotionally, physically, and mentally—leaving many women feeling unanchored or overwhelmed. Yet the garden, especially when approached through the gentle, hopeful lens of regenerative gardening, can become an unexpectedly powerful place of awakening. Regenerative gardening isn’t about perfection or productivity; it’s about creating new life, new opportunities, and new rhythms that mirror the renewal we’re seeking within ourselves. For many women navigating menopause, this act of fostering life in the soil can feel deeply affirming, reminding us that transformation—though sometimes messy—is fertile ground for growth.

January, Judgment, and a Breath of Fresh Air

The start of the year can be particularly tough. January often brings low light, low energy, and that nagging inner voice listing everything we “should” have done in the garden—like the weeding we didn’t get to or the beds we never cleared. But just as with the emotional ebb and flow of menopause, the garden doesn’t need judgment. It simply needs presence.

Instead of berating ourselves, January invites us to pause. Wrap your hands around a warm cup of tea, step outside, take a slow breath, and notice what is rather than what isn’t. The skeletal beauty of branches, the resilience of winter greens, the quiet work of the soil—there is so much happening beneath the surface. This gentle appreciation is often the best place to begin your January wellbeing practice. You can enjoy the garden exactly as it is, and enjoy yourself without pressure, without deadlines, and without guilt.

Regenerative Gardening and Emotional Wellbeing

Stepping into a space you’re regenerating rather than maintaining opens a different emotional doorway. Regenerative gardening encourages you to observe, participate, and nourish, rather than control. That shift can be profoundly soothing during menopause, when so much feels unpredictable. Each small act—laying mulch that feeds the soil, leaving seed heads for wildlife, planting something that will return stronger next season—becomes a reminder of your own capacity to renew and be renewed. On that note use peat-free compost and try and source plants from organic nurseries that have gone peat-free too. That way the nasty pesticides and poisons are kept away from your garden.

As you tend the garden, even in the quiet months, you enter a state of mindful connection. The simple acts of pruning, mulching, or planning spring plantings draw your attention away from the noise of daily life and toward the earthy, grounding rhythms of nature. This kind of engagement can lift your spirits, calm anxiety, and offer a sense of purpose and accomplishment. And as the garden responds—slowly, steadily, generously—it can spark the same sense of inner awakening, reminding you that growth doesn’t stop; it simply changes form. I'm passionate about my water butt which is super slim and collects the rainwater from our summer house roof . I use its water wherever possible to keep our plants and herbs well watered.

When you can be kind to yourself, you can extend that out to the garden.

Last December, I found myself sitting quietly in my little kitchen garden, where the winter pansies and rosemary were doing their best to brighten the grey days. As I sat there, I realised how much this small patch of earth means to me—a place to hide, breathe, and let my thoughts drift without worrying about what anyone might think. Out here, no one reacts when I peel off layers during a sudden hot flush, or when I lose myself in one of those menopause-induced daydreams that momentarily carry me away. The garden never judges; it simply holds space.

In that gentle stillness, I began to imagine what I might do differently in spring—how I could plant, tend, and regenerate my little corner of the world in ways that truly nourish me. And now that January is here, I can start bringing those ideas to life, taking each step slowly and kindly. This year, I’m doing it for myself, not for any imagined visitors whose opinions we so often fear. Out in the garden, I get to grow on my own terms.

So I urge you: try getting down and dirty with regenerative gardening. There’s something wonderfully freeing about feeding the soil, noticing small signs of life, and creating space for renewal. It’s one of the most uplifting ways to shrug off the January blues and find a spark of joy again.
An excellent read by Frances Lincoln ( over a cuppa in the garden- well why not!) is The Kindest Garden: A Practical Guide to Regenerative Gardening.