How a Single Marigold Bloom Changed My Whole Day
(I've naturally placed the image references inside the flow, like we always do.)
The Day My Marigolds Reminded Me to Slow Down
What You'll Discover in This Post
This is the story that a little marigold garden patch in Soshanguve taught me. The story is about how these flowers taught me patience, being present, and the beauty of unexpected colour in a tired season. You will be taken with me through the very moment these flowers surprised me, how they changed the vibe of my whole garden, what they mean for soil health here in Gauteng, and why I now think of them as small soldiers standing between my vegetables and pests.
Also, you will sense the personal moment that made me stop, breathe, and be grateful for my journey once again.
A Quiet Morning in the Garden
I went to the garden earlier than I normally would that morning. The air still had that cool feeling which you can only experience in our part of Soshanguve before the sun starts to heat up the sand. I really wasn't expecting any kind of show. I just wanted to have a quick look at the beds before I made breakfast.
As I was walking past the corner where I had planted some marigold seedlings a few weeks, something really wanted to grab my attention. It wasn't a loud or an obvious thing. It was subtle… like a whisper of colour calling my name.
When I brought my face down to the ground, it was this bright, fiery orange explosion that was looking right back at me.
For a second I just sat there, letting the colour hit me. You know how Gauteng soil can sometimes feel tired and dull, especially when you've been busy and not giving your garden the same affection? That's how my patch had been looking brown, dry, a little moody. But there, right in the middle of it, these marigolds were glowing like tiny suns.
A Bloom That Felt Like a Hug
I moved closer and looked at one of the flowers.
This one flower looked like it wanted to communicate something. Its petals were so vivid that they almost seemed to be artificial. I had planted marigolds before, but this one... this one surprised me.
It could be that I have been feeling overwhelmed recently with the garden, posts, and ideas, the pressure of growing Evergreen Hideout, and still trying to do everything with my whole heart. The fun sometimes gets lost in the busyness. Sometimes I forget that I started gardening to breathe, not to chase results.
So, to see that flower that day was like someone gently tapping my shoulder and saying, "Hey... slow down. See. Something beautiful is happening right under your nose."
The Marigold Patch Becoming a Moment of Peace
I didn't care if the earth was going to stain my clothes and I sat cross-legged on it, just watching them.
It's really amusing that we keep waiting for major wins to energize us a big harvest, a brand new raised bed, a perfect garden layout but a single flower is sometimes the one that brings you back to yourself.
Marigolds didn't only seem nice; they were vibrant and that made me remember the reason I love gardening. The feature of the petals curling a bit inward, the minute texture at the center, the way the buds were waiting for their turn to open like a whole group of friends holding hands, ready to cheer me on through the day really touched me.
What These Flowers Mean for My Garden
Besides the fact that they stole my heart, the marigolds actually make a big contribution to my small ecosystem. I planted them intentionally around my vegetables, because I have learnt that pests can get very daring in Soshanguve's hot summers.
One of the ways marigolds protect is by being very small soldiers. They emit a smell in the ground that helps keep away nematodes. to their brilliant colour they attract good insects the ones that help pollinate or bewitch pests. It is unbelievable how nature supports each other like a community.
Yet on that morning, I wasn't thinking about science. I wasn't thinking about soil structure or companion planting or pest control. I was reflecting on my life and how it is a common occurrence that I tend to push too hard, be in such a hurry, and overlook the fact that small wins are there for me to appreciate.
These flowers taught me that growth is not always a loud affair. There are times when it is very quiet, tender, and it only becomes visible if you are quite still and attentive.
The Moment Turned Into a Lesson
While I was sitting there, the sun was gradually moving over the garden. The marigold petals changed their color from a bright golden to a deep orange as the light heated them. And I felt my own mood change with them.
I reflected on the posts that I make, the stories that I share, and the little victories that I celebrate with you. It came to my mind that if I don't slow down and take my own small moments into account, how can I possibly show to anyone that they have to recognise their own?
They weren't simply flowers anymore. They were a reminder of why I garden to feel connected, grounded, present. To witness life in its quiet beauty. To find myself again between leaves and soil.
Why I'll Always Plant Marigolds Now
Before that morning, marigolds were just companion plants for me helpful, bright, but not deeply meaningful. They have since become a part of my ritual.
Every time my garden looks lifeless or my mood is down, I plant marigolds. They are somewhat like medicated dressings for the emotions: tiny yet strong, unsophisticated yet mending.
They teach me patience.
They teach me gratitude.
And they teach me to celebrate colour even if everything else still looks bare or tired.
Final Reflection
I got up from the soil eventually, brushed my knees, and stood there for a moment, looking at the patch again. I felt lighter. Calmer. More grounded in my little corner of Soshanguve.
Those marigolds may not have changed the world, but they definitely changed my morning. And sometimes, that's really all there is.
I came back home with dirty fingers, a nice warm ray of sun on my face, and a heart that had somehow become softer. And from what I can tell, gardening has always been this for me: a quiet, tender, way to rediscover myself.
