Long time hiker, first time gardener

Connecting with nature has never been hard for me. I'm one of the lucky people who had access to a car for most of my life and so could get out of the city and into less developed areas relatively frequently. I grew up with a small woodland next to my house and ran around it barefoot as a child, watching ferns unfold and picking huckleberries in the springtime. I then went to a university based in a rural area, where walks in the woods were part of everyday life, and as an adult I've been exploring the hiking trails that the UK has to offer for years now.

Connecting to nature on a trail means seeing panoramas you've never seen, encountering wild animals you wouldn't see in your back yard, marvelling over trees as tall as skyscrapers or witnessing the power of the oceans as they erode the rocks on which you stand. But what happens when you can't make that connection anymore? What happens when you're told to stay at home, to stick to your suburban neighbourhood in the Fens of East Anglia, as flat as flat can be?

I'm still counting myself lucky. I live in a house with a modest garden that we had just remodelled, so we've had a lot of planting and painting and prepping to do before it's ready for summer. This project has really saved my mental health during this time. It's physical, it's outdoors, and there's measurable progress, not to mention a steep learning curve.



I've planted a bed with hellebore and ferns that reminds me of my beloved Pacific Northwest woodlands, and another with bulbs that will bloom at different times of year in shades of purple. I've planted strawberries, blueberries and a little herb garden outside the kitchen door, and my partner is tending a vegetable patch using the guide Veg in One Bed. Already we've harvested several salads and about a dozen radishes, and we're looking forward to supplementing our meals with vegetables we've grown at home for the first time in my adult life. There is something so gratifying about that, perhaps not as much as climbing a mountain and seeing the view from the top, but still, gardening rewards patience with a feeling of deep satisfaction.

But for those who don't have a garden of their own, there are still ways of connecting with nature, whether it's identifying the trees in your local park using the Woodland Trust Tree ID app, learning the names of flowers you walk past with the Seek app, or becoming an urban botany teacher by writing the names of plants on the sidewalk in chalk. I am thoroughly enjoying the efforts of those doing the latter on the More Than Weeds Twitter account, as it's helping me connect with nature in a totally unexpected way. Lately I've been looking more closely at the flowers and plants growing out of pavements and brick walls all around me as I take my daily walks around my neighbourhood.

If you feel like you're missing nature due to the #UKlockdown, and are able to go out briefly, take a moment to observe your surroundings. Even if you live in a city, try to spot the small plants growing on pavements. These "weeds" are part of our #everydaynature! #morethanweeds pic.twitter.com/5OTPCUcE26

— Morethanweeds (@morethanweeds) March 24, 2020

Of course I am sad about the situation in the world, for the sake of all those suffering and for my own more petty disappointments; in an alternate timeline I was to be hiking the West Highland Way with my brother and sister-in-law right now. But this has been a chance for me to connect with nature in a new way, by growing my own food and by learning the names of the unassuming but beautiful plants that make their homes in our built environment when given half a chance. Our urban obsession with tidiness is robbing us of miniature meadows all around us and I hope that after this we will be a little less quick with the lawn mower on verges and in parks. Nature thrives when we leave it alone, even in the most built-up of places.