What Nature’s Been Trying to Teach Me (While I Was Busy Making Plans)

You know those people who say things like, “Nature is the best teacher”? I used to think they were being a bit dramatic. I mean sure, nature is beautiful, inspiring, and sometimes downright magical – but a teacher? Like with actual life lessons?

Apparently, yes.

Because now that I live tucked in the woods and spend a good chunk of my free time coaxing plants from the soil, shoveling snow, dodging bears (true story), and listening to frogs instead of traffic, I’ve come to realize that Nature has been teaching me – not always gently – and certainly not always conveniently. But persistently, repeatedly, and often with just the right amount of sass.

Here are a few of the lessons she’s been hammering home lately – in no particular order, and with no guarantee I won’t need to relearn them all again next year.

1. Hold Your Plans Loosely

I love a good plan. I get a little rush from a fresh to-do list. There’s something deeply satisfying about believing I’m in control of my little corner of the world. But here’s the thing: Nature doesn’t care.

Last year, I had such a tidy gardening plan: companion planting charts, crop rotation, color-coded sketches. I even thought I was being flexible. But then came the rain … and the chipmunks … and the biggest slugs I’ve ever seen – who apparently got the memo that swiss chard was back on the menu.

On the flip side, sometimes the unexpected turns out to be wonderful. A small cluster of Joe-Pye Weed I never planted bloomed right beside a transplanted cedar – a four-foot symbol of stubborn joy. The peas I almost gave up on in June exploded with sweet pods in July. And this year my poly-tunnel experiment actually worked and I had parsley and kale sooner than I imagined I would.

So now? I plan… but I don’t get too attached. Because Nature will absolutely tinker with my ideas – and honestly, her version is often better than mine. Not always, mind you. Sometimes she just wipes the board clean with a shrug. But hey, that’s part of the curriculum.

2. Be Humble (She’s Still in Charge)

No matter how many gardening books I read, no matter how many videos I watch, I still get it wrong. Regularly. One day I’m marveling at how lush and healthy my tomatoes look. The next? Blight. Just… blight … out of nowhere … like a pop quiz I forgot to study for.

Nature has a way of reminding me that she has the final say. I can do all the right things – feed the soil, water just enough, rotate the crops – and sometimes, things still go sideways. Or upside down. Or completely off the rails.

And it’s not just in the garden. A windstorm takes down a tree, and suddenly we’re out there with a chainsaw to keep it away from the propane tanks. The new family of racoons use the bird feeders as a jungle gym until they break open for a snack. (Lesson: don’t forget to bring the bird feeders in every night … or don’t get attached them.)

Humility, it turns out, isn’t about feeling small. It’s about remembering I am small – and being okay with that.

3. Some Seasons Are Grand… Some Just Suck

Let’s talk about zucchini.

Last year? Total bust. Mine barely got past the seedling stage. Friends all around me were lamenting their stunted squash, thinking it was just them. Spoiler: it wasn’t. Something was off. Too cold? Too wet? Who knows. The zucchini were like, “Not this year, humans.”

But this year? Zucchini everywhere! How many more cakes and muffins can I make?! 

Nature doesn’t promise predictability. Some seasons will be bountiful. Others will make you question everything. It’s easy to feel like a gardening genius when everything’s growing – and just as easy to spiral into doubt when it’s not.

But that’s the gig. Some seasons are for growing. Some are for learning. And some are for eating your neighbor’s zucchini because she can’t give it away fast enough. This extends WAY beyond the garden too.

4. Resilience is Real (and Often Scrappy)

I have this photo – one of many – of a little tree growing out of the side of a rock cliff. No soil, no water source I can see, no support, and yet… there it is. Green. Alive. Determined.

Nature doesn’t wait for perfect conditions to begin. Plants grow in sidewalk cracks. Moss spreads across roofs. A tiny birch is currently trying to take root in the edge of my foundation planting. Nature is relentless – and occasionally annoying.

The lesson? If you really want to grow, or heal, or try something new – you don’t always need ideal conditions. You need grit. You need a little light, and maybe someone to water you occasionally.

Progress might be slow. But slow doesn’t mean stuck. Even a tree growing an inch a year is still growing.

5. Nature Always Wins

We get cocky, don’t we? With our technology and our weather apps and our 5G phones. We build houses and roads and cities, and we like to think we’ve tamed the wild. But one wave, one earthquake, one meteor – and we’re reminded that we’re just guests here. Frankly, we’re not always well-behaved guests.

This one pairs nicely with the humility lesson. Nature has rules, and she enforces them. You over-till your soil, it stops holding water. You remove all the trees from a slope, you get erosion. You ignore the fire ban? Don’t.

We’re clever, but she’s ancient, and she’s playing the long game.

6. Sometimes Slow is Best – and Sometimes You Need Fire

One of my favorite things about living close to the woods is watching how change happens. Sometimes it’s quiet and steady – like the way ferns unfurl or how moss takes over a fallen log.

But other times? It’s dramatic.

Some seeds need fire to grow. Some forests don’t regenerate until after a burn. There’s something powerful about that. Nature knows when to be patient – and when to burn it all down and start over. Although this summer, I’m questioning if she’s just trying to clear us off the planet altogether.

I’ve come to realize I’m the same; some projects, relationships, or personal changes require slow, steady effort, while others need a hard reset. I’m learning that some bridges need to be burned – especially the ones I never should have been on in the first place.

The key is recognizing which is needed when – and trusting that both are valid.

7. Plant Labels Lie

This one is less philosophical and more… personal betrayal.

I’ve been lured by many a plant label. Promises of compact size, mild flavor, perfect compatibility with container gardening. “Thrives in part shade,” it says. “Prolific producer.”

Lies. All lies.

You can read more about this on my other blog.  

Now I know: trust, but verify. Or better yet – grow it once and see what it actually does.

Because much like people, plants don’t always live up to their bios.

In Conclusion: Nature Knows Best

Living closer to nature has softened me – and sharpened me. It’s made me more patient and more curious. It’s helped me embrace not knowing, not controlling, not getting it “right.”

It’s also made me laugh out loud (usually when I trip over a root or find a bird nesting in a fallen tree we didn’t get to fast enough. And it’s brought me peace I didn’t know I needed.

So yes – Nature is a teacher. And I’m a slightly stubborn, occasionally overwhelmed, but mostly willing student. I don’t always get straight A’s but I show up, I watch, I learn and I compost the rest.

Your Turn:

What has Nature taught you lately?

Any “lessons” growing in your garden this year – or flying into your porch light at 3am?

Tell me in the comments. Let’s compare zucchini!

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