Gardening Joy Quotes

I don't have a gardener, because I enjoy pulling weeds. It's hard to explain, but there is something fulfilling about pulling out a weed and knowing that you got all the roots.

I love working in the garden.

There is nothing pleasanter than spading when the ground is soft and damp.

To grow a tomato or a pepper and prepare a meal from your labor and care is primordially satisfying.

That small circle of earth became a second home to both of us. Gardening boring? Never! It has surprise, tragedy, startling developments - a soap opera growing out of the ground. I'd forgotten that tremolo of expectation produced by a tiny forest of sprouts.

It gives you a good feeling. Each year, you rediscover in a garden the magic of life. A flower arrives, and it is a miracle. The leaves fall in the autumn, and it looks fantastic. There is a tenderness about a garden, and you can't help but be sensitive to that.

Who loves a garden, still his Eden keeps, Perennial pleasures plants, and wholesome harvests reaps.

All through the long winter, I dream of my garden. On the first day of spring, I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy, and my spirits soar.

The first gatherings of the garden in May of salads, radishes and herbs made me feel like a mother about her baby - how could anything so beautiful be mine. And this emotion of wonder filled me for each vegetable as it was gathered every year. There is nothing that is comparable to it, as satisfactory or as thrilling, as gathering the vegetables one has grown.

When I pass a flowering zucchini plant in a garden, my heart skips a beat.

I love being in my garden. I don't plant a lot of exotic flora, but I do spend a lot of time outside doing manual labour.

The first gathering of salads, radishes and herbs made me feel like a mother about her baby - how could anything so beautiful be mine?

I have an organic garden and love being able to say, 'I'm going to see what I can pick to throw in my salad.'

Tools of many kinds and well chosen, are one of the joys of a garden.

I have always wanted to be a gardener, and I love the time I spend in my garden.

There is nothing that is comparable to it, as satisfactory or as thrilling, as gathering the vegetables one has grown.

My greatest pleasure is going out on a horrible, cold, wet January morning to pick the vegetables for our Sunday lunch, putting them in a muddy pile on the table, and then spending 45 minutes washing and preparing them. I like doing it because it's so different to what I do in the week. The same holds for cleaning the car or shining my shoes.

I find it so exciting to grow your own food.

No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, and no culture comparable to that of the garden.

Daffodils, blossom and tulips jostle to the front of the stage in April. I love these early perennials: they may be more modest but they nearly all have that one special quality that a plant needs to transform your affections from admiration to affection - charm.

The lesson I have thoroughly learnt, and wish to pass on to others, is to know the enduring happiness that the love of a garden gives.

I don't care what anybody says: Nothing is better than a tomato you grow. There's something about it that's different than a tomato you can buy. It's a great thing.

In a delightful garden, sowing, planting or digging are not hardship but are done with a zeal and a certain pleasure.

I used to visit and revisit it a dozen times a day, and stand in deep contemplation over my vegetable progeny with a love that nobody could share or conceive of who had never taken part in the process of creation. It was one of the most bewitching sights in the world to observe a hill of beans thrusting aside the soil, or a rose of early peas just peeping forth sufficiently to trace a line of delicate green.