May in the Garden: The Season of Soft Progress
There’s a certain softness to May — not just in the light, but in the way the garden grows. It’s the kind of month that encourages you to pause more often, to step lightly, to do a little without the pressure to do it all.
Unlike April, which often arrives with a flurry of sowing and tidying, May invites steadier hands. By now, much of the hard groundwork is done. The soil has warmed. The seedlings are growing. The first blooms of the season are opening, not in a rush, but in a rhythm. And that’s the spirit of May: a gentle, rhythmic tending.
I often think of May as the garden’s deep breath — the moment between the exhale of spring and the surge of summer. When I was younger, I would race through tasks with urgency, driven by to-do lists and the hum of expectation. But with experience — and a few missed moments along the way — I’ve learned to value the in-between. The days when the sun lingers a little longer on your back. The evenings when you do just enough and leave the rest to tomorrow.
The Gift of Half-Hours
Some of the best gardening this month happens not on long, planned days, but in the in-between. A half-hour before supper. A quiet wander after tea. The sort of time that feels too short for a major project, but perfect for something satisfying.
In these windows, I find myself:
Thinning out seedlings, giving them space to breathe
Pinching out the tops of sweet peas or cosmos before they get leggy
Re-cutting a lawn edge or brushing gravel back into place
Checking the compost heap, or topping up mulch where the sun’s reached in
Moving a pot to where I can smell the rosemary when I sit down
None of it feels urgent. But all of it matters.
These moments remind me of time spent with my grandfather, who gardened with no fuss and few words. He taught me that half an hour done well, without rush or resentment, could move mountains. Or at least tidy the strawberry bed.
The Joy of Small Shifts
May rewards observation. You might walk past the same plant three days in a row — then on the fourth, you see it: a bud swelling, a leaf unfurling, a ladybird larva busy at work.
This is the month where small interventions go far. A gentle thinning now saves a tangle later. A light pruning keeps a plant from overreaching. Tidying a bench or clearing a view can change how you feel about the whole garden.
And importantly — it’s the time to start enjoying it.
It brings to mind those historic cottage gardens I’ve walked through — not grand estates, but humble, well-tended spaces where every stone and step felt placed with quiet intention. There’s a lesson in that: a garden doesn’t need to be large or lavish to feel alive. It needs only care, rhythm, and the presence of someone willing to listen.
Prepare the Garden for Living, Not Just Labour
It’s easy to forget, with endless lists and tasks, that the garden is not just a place of work — it’s a place of being. May is when I start to return to my favourite spots: the chair under the apple tree, the edge of the pond, the sunny step where the thyme releases its scent as I pass.
Take a moment this week to:
Wipe down your favourite seat
Reclaim a forgotten corner with five minutes of attention
Revisit the view you built months ago — and just sit with it for a while
These simple acts prepare the garden not just for the weekend or the weather, but for you.
Final Thought: May Moves at Its Own Pace
In the rush of the growing season, May reminds us to slow down. The days are longer, yes, but that doesn’t mean they need to be filled to the brim. Trust the pace of the garden. Let the light guide your steps. And if the only thing you do today is water the pots and sit for a spell — that’s still gardening.
How are you spending your May evenings? Share your rituals or reflections in the comments of this Facebook post.
Happy Gardening.
— Marcus