Stephanie Hounsell

Never in my life did I suspect I'd become a gardener.

Sure, I love flowers as much as the next woman, but the thought of wiggly worms and crawly insects has always deterred me from growing my own.

Well, I've caught the bug. No pun intended.

With some -- okay, much -- help from my mom, who gardens with a masterful flair, and the encouragement of countless passersby, my flowerbeds have slowly taken shape and now sport a variety of blossoms and foliage in a rainbow of colours.

It doesn't hold a candle to the amazing gardens that can be viewed on events such as the Milton Horticultural Society's tour, but it's mine, and somehow -- as a fairly new homeowner -- that fact alone makes it beautiful.

Slowly, I'm learning, taking baby steps. I now know first-hand that plants die if you don't water them and that worms are actually a good thing. I did say baby steps.

And I'm learning more about my fellow Miltonians -- and myself -- in the process.

Gardening is certainly allowing me to experience Milton through different eyes.

As for motivation, it helps that I don't have to look far for inspiration. A quick walk through old Milton does the trick. The gardens I regularly peruse come in many shapes and styles -- some wild, some tame, some simple, some complex.

As I plunge my shovel into the soil a few times a week to pull out pesky weeds, more often than not somebody stops to comment on the progress. In early spring, before the garden had received much TLC, I had an elderly gentleman walk by and tell me my roses needed some work. That simple statement launched a conversation about the Milton of yesteryear and the many changes it has seen.

Another day, a sweet lady -- also an older woman -- stopped to tell me as I was weeding that the house had never looked better and we continued to chat about other matters.

Gardening seems to break the ice and allow conversations to take place that otherwise wouldn't.

And there certainly are many lessons to be learned -- patience, persistence and anger management (there's nothing like happening upon a dog's business smack dab in the middle of the lawn), to name a few.

It goes without saying that the benefits of gardening go far beyond the garden. There's nothing like puttering around in the early evening, perhaps even taking in a sunset.

Never would I have thought that pulling weeds could be rewarding or that watering could be as good for the soul as it is for the flowers.

It's a calming activity, and one that leaves a lingering sense of well-being. It forces me to slow down and take pleasure in the small things in life.

Thanks, Mom, for opening the floodgates -- it's a brave new world indeed.