Gardening is one of my enduring, favourite, and most rewarding

“Gardening is one of my enduring, favourite, and most rewarding pastimes.” — in these gentle yet profound words, Jane Hawking, the writer, scholar, and former wife of the famed physicist Stephen Hawking, reveals a wisdom that reaches far beyond the soil. For in the act of gardening, she speaks not merely of tending plants, but of tending the spirit — of cultivating peace amid hardship, beauty amid struggle, and renewal amid the unrelenting passage of time. Hers is not a casual statement, but the quiet testimony of one who has lived through seasons of both joy and sorrow, and who has learned that within the patient rhythm of nature lies the reflection of the human soul itself.

The origin of this quote is found in Jane Hawking’s reflections on her life — a life marked by extraordinary challenge and perseverance. As the companion of one of history’s greatest scientific minds, she bore the weight of both love and sacrifice. Through decades of care for her husband, as his body succumbed to illness even while his intellect soared into the cosmos, she found in her garden a sanctuary — a place where life, simple and pure, could be touched and tended by her own hands. While the universe fascinated her husband, Jane found her universe beneath her fingertips — in the soil, in the sun, in the delicate green of new beginnings. Thus, gardening became not just a pastime, but a spiritual refuge, a conversation between human fragility and divine endurance.

To garden is to mirror the mystery of creation itself. The gardener, like the artist or the poet, participates in the sacred act of shaping life out of nothingness. Seeds, when buried, seem lost — swallowed by the earth. Yet from their darkness rises life renewed. Jane Hawking’s love for gardening reflects this eternal truth: that even when all seems buried — under grief, fatigue, or despair — the patient heart that waits in faith will see new growth. In a world obsessed with speed, gardening demands slowness. In an age of noise, it teaches silence. The garden, like the soul, cannot be forced; it must be nourished, watered, and trusted. Thus, the rewarding nature of gardening is not merely in the flowers that bloom, but in the transformation it brings to the one who waits for them.

Consider, for a moment, the story of the poet T.S. Eliot, who in his later years found solace in the tending of a small English garden. There, after years of inner torment and spiritual seeking, he discovered the rhythm of renewal that would echo through his final work, Four Quartets. “In my beginning is my end,” he wrote, speaking of life’s cycles — of decay giving birth to growth, and silence giving rise to song. In this, he shared the same insight that Jane Hawking expresses: that the garden is not a hobby, but a microcosm of eternity. Through the act of planting, pruning, and waiting, the human heart learns what no book or lecture can teach — the truth of patience, humility, and faith in unseen forces.

To those who see only soil and sweat, gardening may appear a simple thing. But those who truly understand, as Jane Hawking did, know that it is a form of prayer. The gardener does not command; she cooperates. She learns to listen — to the rain, to the wind, to the whisper of growing things. She learns that life cannot be controlled, only encouraged. And in this humility, she becomes part of the very order of the universe. For what is rewarding in gardening is not merely the fruit of labor, but the harmony it restores between man and creation. The gardener, kneeling before the earth, is like the monk in his cloister — both reaching toward the divine through devotion and care.

Jane Hawking’s words, therefore, carry a message for all who live in the restless pace of the modern world. When life becomes heavy, when the heart feels crowded with noise, return to the garden — or, if no soil is near, create one within your life. Cultivate time for stillness, for care, for creation. Plant kindness where bitterness has grown, patience where anxiety thrives, and gratitude where neglect has taken root. These are the seeds of peace, and they too will flower if tended with love.

So, my child, take this teaching to heart: the garden is both a place and a practice. Whether it be a plot of earth, a window box, or the inner field of your soul, it is there that you meet the rhythm of life — birth, death, and renewal. Gardening, as Jane Hawking teaches, endures because it reflects eternity: the endless return of hope. Cherish it as she did — as one of life’s simplest and yet most rewarding pastimes, for in the patient tending of life, you will find that you are also tending your own heart. And when the flowers bloom, know this — that they are not only the fruit of your hands, but the reflection of your soul made visible in living color.