A Garden of Memory: Reclaiming My Wild Roots Through Plants

Before I understood what a garden was, I knew the scent of lilac.

A white lilac bloomed just outside my bedroom window when I was three, its soft perfume drifting in through the open window on warm spring days. I would sit for what felt like hours, peering into the tiny white blossoms, captivated by their intricate beauty. Sometimes I would pluck a floret and touch it to my tongue, tasting the faint sweetness of its nectar. It was my first memory of communion with the natural world—a moment that rooted me in wonder and shaped my perspective on plants to this day.

What Is Nostalgia Gardening?

Nostalgia gardening is about more than recreating a childhood flower bed. It’s about growing memories—planting seeds from our past and watching them bloom again in the present. It’s an invitation to connect with the plants that shaped us: the ones we picked in fields, helped water in family gardens, or admired from the back seat of the car as we drove down country roads. These plants hold emotion. They awaken something long-forgotten, yet instantly familiar.

In my case, nostalgia smells like sun-warmed raspberries and damp forest earth. It tastes like wild mint and looks like a tangle of calendula, heritage lilac, and healing herbs. It’s a garden that’s both wild and cultivated, just like the life I’ve lived.

A Wild Childhood, Rooted in Nature

I grew up in a foraging family, where the rhythm of the year was measured by what could be gathered. Spring brought fiddleheads, nettles, and wild garlic. In summer, we searched for salmonberries and thimbleberries, hands stained with juice. Autumn meant mushrooms—Chanterelles, Pine mushrooms, and King Boletus, carefully harvested from secret spots passed down from parent to child.
The forest was our pantry, classroom, and temple. I learned to trust the land, to respect what it gave, and to understand the delicate relationship between plant, season, and sustenance.
My garden today reflects that wild upbringing. It’s not formal or overly tidy. It hums with bees, buzzes with life. Edible herbs and medicinal flowers grow beside ornamental shrubs and heirloom roses. There’s thyme between the stepping stones and lemon balm near the kitchen door. Every plant has a purpose—some for nourishment, some for healing, all for remembering.

The Plants That Carry Us Back

Certain plants hold memory like vessels. Their scent, shape, or flavor can bring us instantly back to a specific time or place:

• Lilac – my first experience of scent, sweetness, and wonder.
• Wild mint – still growing near the creeks and streams I once explored barefoot.
• Calendula & Lavender – my go-to for healing salves for friends, family, and clients.
• St. John’s Wort & Snapdragons – reminders of my grandmother’s garden and the wild places surrounding it.
• Raspberries – no matter how many I plant, they rarely make it to the table.

These aren’t just nostalgic—they’re healing. They remind me of where I come from and how the earth has shaped me.

How to Create Your Nostalgia Garden

You don’t need acres or a picture-perfect plan to plant memories. Start small—with a single herb pot or a corner of your yard. The most important ingredient is meaning.

• Follow your senses: What plants remind you of childhood, home, or joy?
• Talk to family: Ask parents or grandparents what they grew, harvested, or loved.
• Blend the old and new: Pair heirloom varieties with modern hybrids to tell your own story.
• Grow what nourishes you: Include edible herbs, healing flowers, berries, and vegetables.
• Grow Organically: This nourishes the soil, ensuring your food and medicine are healthy.
• Make space for beauty: Memory isn’t just practical—it’s poetic. Let flowers bloom simply because they stir your heart.

Memory in Bloom

When I brush past the lilac bush in my garden now, I pause. That scent, unchanged across decades, still carries me back to a little girl at her window, learning that plants could whisper, could heal, could hold memory.

And now, I get to watch my daughters build their memories among the same flowers, herbs, and trees. They, too, have grown up in a foraging family—harvesting nettles, picking berries, and gathering lavender blossoms for homemade salves. They know where their food comes from. They know the names of plants, wild and cultivated. And more importantly, they know how to listen to the land.

This is what nostalgia gardening means to me: not just remembering the past but passing it forward. Each seed we plant is a story we’re choosing to keep alive.