The Garden Teaches Us Love
- Feb 14
- 2 min read
On Valentine's Day, love is often wrapped in ribbons and roses. But long before bouquets are exchanged, love is already at work in quieter ways; in soil turned by hand, in seeds pressed gently into the earth, in the steady rhythm of watering and waiting.
The garden teaches us love.
Liberty Hyde Bailey believed that gardening was not simply about growing plants, but about growing the connection of people and the land. He wrote about what he called the "garden spirit" - a posture of attentiveness, stewardship, humility, and care. These are not only the foundations of good horticulture; they are the foundations of meaningful relationships.
To garden is to practice patience. We plant knowing we cannot rush germination. We tend knowing growth unfolds in its own time. Love asks the same restraint. It cannot be forced. It deepens slowly, strengthened by consistent care.
And then there is the rose.
Roses did not become the symbol of Valentine's Day by accident. Their story stretches back thousands of years. In ancient Rome and Greece, roses were associated with Aphrodite (known to the Romans as Venus) the goddess of love and beauty. The flower's lush petals and intoxicating fragrance made it a natural emblem of passion.
Centuries later, during the Victorian era in England, flowers became a coded language. This practice, known as floriography, allowed people to express feelings they could not openly speak. The red rose came to symbolize deep romantic love. When improved greenhouse technology and expanded transportation networks made roses more widely available in the 19th century, they became an accessible and powerful Valentine's gesture.
Over time, tradition cemented February's flower of choice.
Yet roses, like love itself, are not without thorns. Their beauty exists alongside their defenses. The garden reminds us that vulnerability and strength often grow together. Challenges do not diminish love - they protect and refine it.
Even here in Michigan, in the quiet of February, the lesson continues. Beds are bare. Branches are still. Yet beneath the surface, roots hold firm in the cold soil. Life gathers energy for spring. The garden teaches us that dormacy is not absence - it is preparation. Love, too, moves through seasons of rest that make future bloom possible.
Gardens slow us down. They invite us to notice. They require us to tend. And in that tending, we learn that love is not only something we feel but it is something we cultivate.
This Valentine's Day, whether you give a rose or simply pause to appreciate the living world around you, remember the deeper lesson. Love grows where it is nurtured. It strengthens where it is protected. It blooms when it is given time and care.
The garden teaches us love - and if we listen closely, it will keep teaching us in every season.
If you would like to learn more about floriography, check out this article by
Bloom & Wild:
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