I have never been a winter person so this time of year is always special to me. The season wouldn’t be so special to me, however, if I didn’t have my own slice of nature in the middle of a parking lot somewhere in Toronto; a sliver of green among all the stone and brick. The city has lots of natural spaces to explore (parks, ravines, beaches) but there’s something about having control over one’s own little microcosm that feels powerful and energizing.

I’ve never been much of a gardener but after seven years of living in the same place I’ve managed to learn a lot. (Some of which I’ve shared here and here.) It’s a different kind of responsibility but one that I take on every year gladly. I won’t lie and say that I know what I’m doing; in fact, my garden is one of the few area of my life that I try not to research to death. Instead of looking for answers in a book or online, I try hard to listen to what my plants need. (Even though when I put it that way it sounds a little kooky.)

For example, there was no book that could tell me my raspberry bushes were going to bear fruit until October. (It’s true!) But to be fair, there was no book that told me the bushes were even going to last growing in pots. These, and other little happy surprises, are what make gardening so interesting to me. Nature makes up its own rules; you’re just kind of there to nurture and follow along as you go.

My garden adventures don’t stop at plants either: besides having planted flowers, shrubs, vegetables, fruits and herbs, my little porch now also boasts a hummingbird feeder which has yet to attract any birds but provides a nice rest stop to the many bees and butterflies that have come to visit.

In some ways my garden has become a sanctuary to all. People, animals, birds, insects-the garden is a perfect way to experience all the harmony that is in our world. The rule on my porch is that we all belong.

Except for the squirrels. Cute, but not welcome.