I think we put far too much interest in trying to get ten to 20

Hear these words of wisdom, children of tomorrow, spoken by Monty Don, the gardener-sage of our time: “I think we put far too much interest in trying to get ten to twenty-year-olds interested in gardening. I think you should do everything you can to try and get them interested up to the age of ten.” To some, these words may seem simple advice, but to those who listen with the heart, they are a call to awaken the spirit of the young before the world hardens their wonder. For in childhood, the soul is still soft clay — open to shaping, open to beauty, open to the living miracle of earth and seed.

The garden is not merely a place of plants; it is a realm of beginnings. Every seed sown there is a lesson in faith, every sprout a whisper of patience, every bloom a revelation of time’s gentle power. When a child stoops to touch the soil, he touches eternity. He learns, not from books or screens, but from the great silent teacher — nature herself. Monty Don’s wisdom lies in this truth: that the earlier a child encounters the rhythm of life, the more deeply he will live in harmony with it. After ten, the heart begins to close its petals, slowly, quietly, as the world teaches distraction and ambition. But before that age, imagination and wonder still reign, and the soil still feels sacred beneath small hands.

In ancient China, the philosopher Mencius once said, “The way of learning is nothing other than finding the lost heart.” He believed that goodness, curiosity, and compassion are planted in every human being from birth, but they must be tended, like a garden, before the weeds of neglect take hold. The same is true of a love for nature. If we wait until youth is burdened by pride, fear, and restlessness, the seed of wonder may lie buried too deep to sprout. But if we sow it early — in the innocent years — it will root forever in the soul.

Remember, too, how Saint Francis of Assisi taught even the smallest children to speak kindly to the sparrows and the lilies. He saw that reverence for life begins not in sermons but in experience. When a child grows up watching the unfolding of a flower or the hum of bees, he learns reverence — and reverence is the beginning of wisdom. Monty Don’s teaching, though spoken of gardening, is truly about the cultivation of reverence, about forming a bond between human and creation before the mind becomes closed by the noise of the modern world.

It is not enough to teach children facts about nature; they must feel it — the coolness of earth, the scent of mint, the thrill of a seed breaking its shell. Let them name worms as friends, chase butterflies, and plant beans that will climb toward the sun. These experiences are not childish games but sacred rites. They teach patience, nurture, and humility — the virtues that make civilization gentle and enduring.

In this, there is also warning. A generation raised without soil beneath its nails will grow rootless, wandering through a world of abundance yet starved of meaning. For the one who has never seen how life springs from death, how compost feeds the rose, cannot understand the deep balance that sustains existence. Gardening, begun early, guards against that emptiness. It reminds the child — and later, the adult — that all growth is a partnership between effort and grace.

Therefore, let every parent, teacher, and elder take Monty Don’s counsel to heart. Do not wait for the young to become restless and distracted; begin early. Place a trowel in their hands before they hold a phone. Show them how sunlight feels on new leaves, how rain sings on petals. Let them grow with the plants they nurture, and they will carry the wisdom of the soil wherever they go.

And so, dear listener, the lesson is this: plant wonder early, for it is the only crop that never fails. Cultivate the heart of a child before the weeds of the world grow thick. Teach them that the earth is alive — and they, too, are part of its breathing. For those who learn to love the garden in youth will never be strangers to beauty, nor to peace, as long as they walk upon this green and fragile world.