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I first embraced permaculture as a way to use natural resources efficiently in my garden. A few years later, when I developed debilitating pain and fatigue, I realized that permaculture, which is fundamentally about putting more energy back into the soil than we take out of it, also held the key to making the most of my own limited energy. I refer to what I do today as gentle gardening, because it is adapted to be easy on my body and my nervous system. Thanks to my previous permaculture training, most of those adaptations were already at my fingertips.
In most of our methods for growing things today, we undertake the difficult labour of clearing unwanted plants and carting in huge amounts of nutrition in the form of compost or fertilizer. That’s not just hard on the earth’s resources; it’s also demanding on the resource of human energy. But it hasn’t always been this way. Indigenous societies around the world created systems like food forests or managed prairies that, once established, continued providing for centuries. Humans were still an essential part of the system, but they didn’t have to fight nature at every step to keep it going.
Permaculture, which was conceived in the 1970s in Australia, draws its inspiration from those systems. It would take a whole library of books to explore all of its facets, but for the purposes of this post I’d like to focus on how its teachings can serve gardeners who are disabled or chronically ill, or who struggle with mental energy or executive function.
The Principles of Permaculture and Gentle Gardening
The twelve principles of permaculture have been stated and restated by multiple authors, and I’ll be using whichever wordings are most accessible to a wide audience.
1. Observe and interact
In permaculture, we’re advised to observe a piece of land for a year before we plan our design. That’s practical advice when a full permaculture design might include building earthworks to change the flow of water and buying expensive fruit trees. Even on a smaller scale, it’s wise to avoid large, expensive, or irreversible decisions until you’ve seen your space in all its seasons.
As gentle gardeners, observation can save us from committing our scarce resources before we have all the information. What plants are already growing in our space? Maybe a previous tenant of this land planted perennials that will return every year, or annual flowers that keep reseeding themselves. If it snows in winter, which part of the yard thaws first, and which thaws last? What kind of wildlife visits regularly? Is that flat-looking section actually a depression that collects water every April? Even once our garden is established, regular, intentional observation can help us continue to make wise and efficient decisions.
IN MY GARDEN…
Long and careful observation once saved me from rash action when I realized that the explosion of grubs and beetles in my garden were harmless dung beetles from not-quite-composted manure and not, as I feared, invasive plant-devouring Japanese beetles (Popillia japonica). If I’d acted based on my first impulse, I would have wasted a lot of energy and ransacked my poor garden.
I’ve made observation my only “must-do” task on days when my energy is really low. I walk slowly around the garden, resting as needed, and make notes or take pictures on my phone to record any issues that will need addressing when I’m feeling up to it. This way, I catch problems before they become too much to handle. It’s also calming to know exactly what is happening in the garden when I have a run of bad days. It stops my anxious mind from perceiving the garden as a daunting unknown that will be so far gone by the time I feel better that I might as well give up.
2. Catch and store energy
This principle sounds like a prompt to install solar panels, but it’s much broader than that. Catching and storing energy can mean capturing rainwater uphill from your garden so that gravity can do the work in the next dry spell. It can mean planting your garden against a stone wall, or integrating stones into your design, so that they’ll absorb the sun’s heat and release it in the evenings, making your garden a little warmer than the surrounding climate. And it can mean using our own energy, when we have it, to do tasks that will continue to serve us when we have run out.
IN MY GARDEN…
I used a good-energy day in the spring of 2021 to lay out a soaker hose through all my garden beds and bury it in mulch. Throughout that summer, watering the garden was as simple as connecting the hose and turning it on. I had, metaphorically, “caught” my energy from that spring day and “stored” it in a system that would save me energy for the rest of the growing season.
The next year, I failed to prioritize that task early in the season. Soon there were so many plants in the way that installing the hose was too daunting a task. I had to water manually all summer. More accurately, I often left my plants unwatered because manual watering would have cost too much effort. I’ll definitely be prioritizing the soaker hose every spring from now on!
3. Obtain a yield
This principle can often be eye-opening for new students of permaculture. What is the yield your farm or garden will produce? It seems obvious: food to eat or sell; perhaps some cut flowers. But those aren’t the only yields that matter. There are the plant trimmings you might feed to chickens. The legumes grown purely for the nitrogen they fix in the soil. Fibre plants for cordage. Bamboo or coppiced trees for poles. If your design leads to better infiltration of rainwater runoff, you might see dry wells, springs, or creek beds refilling, and that’s another kind of yield.
Gentle gardeners might also be interested in those yields, but we are conscious of other ones, too: A garden that is exactly the right size for us to tend without overdoing things can yield healthful exercise and a sense of well-being. Flowers can bring contentment and joy. Sharing our garden with others can provide social connection. Intentionally centring these kinds of yield takes away the pressure we might feel about producing food or perfect beauty.
IN MY GARDEN…
I like to grow plants that will yield materials that let me express myself creatively and give homemade gifts. I use daylilies to make twine and baskets; I dry herbs for tea and cooking; and I press flowers and foliage for homemade cards. I get so much joy from making things with my hands that I value this yield just as highly as I do the food I harvest. It saves me money, too, since I’m fulfilling my crafty urges with free materials instead of expensive craft-store purchases!
4. Apply self-regulation and accept feedback
Even if a permaculture designer spends a whole year observing a space before creating their design for it, that design won’t be perfect right away. And wherever there is an element that isn’t working well, the living things on their land will provide feedback. Not by filling out customer satisfaction surveys, of course. But an attentive designer will see that their tomatoes have yellowing leaves, or that the pond they designed to store rainwater isn’t filling, or that their squash are wilting every afternoon and getting devoured by beetles. In response, the designer can look for ways to keep moisture in the tomatoes’ soil more consistent. They can change their water harvesting strategy. They can give their squash midday shade and watch to see if the removal of one stress helps the plants stand up to the beetles.
Listening for feedback from our own bodies is a skill all people should cultivate, but it’s a particularly obvious need for those of us with chronic illness, disability, or reduced interoception (the way your brain sends you information about your body’s sensations and needs). If gardening under the hot sun quickly exhausts us, we can make a point of going out earlier or later instead. If we hate staking tomatoes so much that it never gets done, or, worse, prevents us from going into the garden at all, we can grow something different next year, or choose sturdy determinate varieties. If we find that our energy is getting critically depleted before we’re aware of it, we can set timers to remind ourselves to sit down in the shade, drink some water, and spend several minutes resting and paying attention to how our body feels.
IN MY GARDEN…
I don’t wait to get tired before I take a rest. It’s too easy to say, “Oh, I’ll rest when I’m finished this row,” and then get distracted by another task as soon as the first one is complete. It’s too easy to be so caught up in my work that I don’t notice how my body feels.
I actually needed help learning to identify the cues my body gives me to say that I’m straining it. I wore a Fitbit for a year because my doctor wanted me to keep my heart rate below a certain level, and over time I began to notice certain sensations that showed up when my pulse was just beginning to increase. These days I’ve tuned my mind to pay better attention to them, and I stop what I’m doing as soon as I feel them.
5. Use and value renewable resources and services
This was the principle that first caught my attention as an environment-obsessed young person. I had always been instinctively uncomfortable with the idea that gardening—an activity that brought you close to nature—so often involved purchasing products that depleted and polluted the earth, like plastic cloth to suppress weeds or decorative stone that was quarried and shipped long distances. In fact, gardening and agriculture are, today, heavily dependent on non-renewable resources in the name of efficiency: diesel for machinery, plastic for weed barriers, even additives for soil that, while natural, are being produced unsustainably for a mass market. It takes a high level of awareness to avoid them, so this principle stands as a valuable reminder.
For most people, human energy is one of the most renewable resources around. But for those of us with chronic fatigue or related conditions, it’s very scarce indeed. We can’t afford to waste it on activities that don’t provide a return. So this principle can remind us to pay attention to which gardening activities make us eager to return to them, and which ones only deplete us. Before committing to any garden decisions, we can ask ourselves, “Will this require a big burst of energy? If so, will it need that once, or repeatedly?” We need to be honest with ourselves about the likelihood of being able to commit to repeated high-energy activities. Likewise, we can seek out activities that leave us feeling mentally or spiritually energized even when our bodies need to rest.
IN MY GARDEN…
I consider the energy I use fussing over tomato seedlings to be a renewable resource, because they bring me joy and motivation every spring. But the energy I spend washing plastic seedling trays is not, because it’s a chore I hate. A soil blocker was a perfect solution for me. It lets me grow my seedlings without the non-renewable resource of plastic pots, and without the loathsome chore of washing them.
6. Produce No Waste
At first glance, this principle may feel like a burden. Maybe even an accusation. “You’ve already reminded us about renewable resources,” we might complain. “Do you know how hard it is to buy gardening supplies without plastic?”
But with a permaculture mindset, producing no waste can be empowering. Freeing. And, counterintuitively, it can help us do less work. Because this is simply a way of looking at the cycle from the other side. What is waste? It’s any matter our system produces that isn’t then used by another part of the system. It’s anything we have to cart away, store, get rid of. Cow feces is waste when it lands on a concrete floor, but in a field it’s a nursery for insects and fertility for the soil. Potato peels may be waste in some kitchens, but to someone raising chickens, they’re a treat for the flock.
Once we spot the waste in our own gardens, we can start looking for ways to weave it into a seamless cycle that will save us physical resources and energy. Do you cart plant trimmings across the yard to compost them? Start a compost heap right beside the garden. Do you buy plant ties and bagged soil? Cut your empty bags into strips and you’ll have a big supply of ties. Pay attention to anything you find yourself removing from the garden, and see if you can turn it into a benefit.
IN MY GARDEN…
Weeds are never waste. I use the energy-saving “chop and drop” method for weed management. Unless a weed is particularly virulent, I snip it off close to the ground instead of uprooting it, since removing the roots would disturb the soil ecosystem. Then I simply drop that plant on top of the soil. Now it’s free mulch! (In fact, it’s often a desire for more mulch that motivates me to do weed control.) This way, unless a plant is diseased or full of seeds, I never have to use my precious energy to carry it away.
7. Design from Pattern to Details
This principle works hand in hand with observe and interact. Keep your eye on the big picture, it tells us. Don’t get lost in the minutiae. What is the pattern of sunlight across your garden as the day progresses? What paths does water take when it rains? Where do you, or other humans, or other animals, prefer to walk?
If we design our gardens with these patterns in mind, we can take advantage of them instead of wasting energy by fighting against them. Heat-seeking plants can be grown in the places that get the most sun. Rainwater can be directed toward a mulch-filled depression at the edge of the garden, ensuring it will sink in slowly and fill the surrounding soil with moisture. Flowers that need constant dead-heading can be grown on the path to the front door.
IN MY GARDEN…
The habits of the farm dogs—brothers—that live to either side of me informed the design of my garden structures. I watched the dogs’ behaviour when I was outside during the growing season, and in winter I was able to observe their footprints. They often cross my yard to visit each other, and when my garden had no fence, they walked straight through it. But they respected visual barriers like a propped-up stick even when they could easily have gone over or under it, so I knew I could fence my garden with casual, open structures designed more for supporting beans and squash than for keeping out animals. It meant a lot less work and expense!
8. Each element performs many functions
In permaculture, any part of your garden that is doing just one job is an inefficient use of your resources. If we refer back to the idea of an ecosystem, we see that a tree acts as a home for squirrels, a food source for insects, and a climate moderator that breaks up wind, provides shade, and increases humidity. When it falls, it becomes a nursery log for new seedlings and decomposes to feed the soil. Likewise, we can “stack functions” with each element of our garden design. A rain barrel can store water and also absorb heat to create a warm microclimate for a nearby fruit tree. Sunflowers can attract pollinators, produce seeds for oil, and provide supports for pole beans.
This principle is perfect for gardeners with limited resources. A little creative thought can save us much effort when we find ways to achieve several goals at once. A daily walk for health purposes can be combined with daily garden observation. Trees grown as a windbreak can be coppiced to produce straight poles. Flowers that brighten up the vegetable garden can also be habitat for helpful ladybugs. Mulch suppresses weeds, reduces fungal disease, feeds the soil, and improves its ability to absorb and retain water.
We can think about this principle in terms of our gardening activities, too: How can you combine your gardening with other parts of your life? Can it become a social activity with a friend or loved one? Can you make gifts from the plants you grow or the seeds you collect? Can you complete daily therapeutic practices like journalling, brain training, or exercises in the garden? The more we can connect the various parts of our lives, the more they will feel like a harmonious whole instead of an overwhelming to-do list.
IN MY GARDEN…
I used hügelkultur to achieve a long list of goals. My hügelbeet (a mound of deadwood designed to decompose into soil while plants grow on top of it) blocks the prevailing northwesterly wind from hitting my garden full-force. It uses waste wood from a pile left by my landlords and produces rich soil, a resource that is scarce on my compact-clay property. It supports a built-in trellis, saving me from the difficult labour of making post holes in the aforementioned clay. And its steep sides create multiple microclimates that are either cooler and more shaded or warmer and more sheltered than the rest of the yard. Building the hügelbeet was a big project, and I did need help to finish, but it repays me again and again every year.
9. Use small and slow solutions
Think about a show on HGTV where a crew installs a brand-new garden in a day. They dig out the yard and pour on huge quantities of new soil and mulch. They pack flower beds with mature plants. They pay top dollar for older trees to achieve instant wow factor. The whole business requires a huge outlay of money, humanpower, and machinery.
Permaculture takes the opposite approach. Permaculturists are always looking for the smallest change that can produce the greatest effect. Importing new soil is a fast fix, but it could introduce new problems if it’s contaminated with an herbicide or invasive jumping worms. An alternate solution might be to plant a cover crop and then cut it down to compost in place. It will take longer, but it will build health into your soil. It’s also an approach that can be easily scaled up.
Small, slow solutions often require fewer strenuous activities. Take sheet mulching for example. It’s a technique that combines soil building with weed suppression (hello, stacking functions), which saves you from having to remove sod for a new garden bed. Instead of labouring with a shovel, you lay down cardboard or newspapers and add layers of carbon-rich and nitrogen-rich mulch. It does take preparation to gather the materials, and there are many steps involved in layering them, but the whole process is gentle on the gardener’s body. As someone who has to avoid an elevated heart rate, I consider that a big selling point.
IN MY GARDEN…
I practice integrated pest management. Instead of reaching for a pesticide when I see a cluster of aphids, I take a step back to look at the big picture. Insects attack plants that have their own defenses weakened, so I look for other signs of stress in my plant. Is the soil around its roots too hot? I can add mulch. Is it wilting in the sun? I can rig up some shade cloth. Does it need more nutrients, or more regular watering? I can address that. When the plant’s needs are met, it can use its own tricks, like releasing unpleasant-tasting compounds, to deter insects. In fact, if I find aphids on a healthy-looking plant, I often leave them alone. I plant flowers every year for ladybug habitat, but the ladybugs won’t show up for flowers alone. An early boom in the aphid population is exactly what I need for the ladybugs to move in and stay. For the rest of the summer, they’ll keep the pest population in check. This slow solution is far better for my health and the garden’s, and it’s far less work than waging constant war against insects.
10. Use and Value Diversity
For anyone involved in regenerative agriculture, valuing diversity is a given. We understand these days that the more kinds of crops we grow, the more resilient our system is. If one kind of grain is sensitive to drought, there are five others that can survive it. If one species of apple falls prey to a disease, others are resistant. Even better, mixing many species together can reduce how vulnerable they are individually. Polycultures create healthier soils that hold water longer, and they make it harder for specialized pest insects to find their favourite foods. A potato bug in a field of thirty different plants will have a harder time finding its next meal and getting down to the business of making more potato bugs than one that finds itself in the middle of a hundred-acre potato farm.
There are plenty of reasons why a gentle gardener should value diversity. If our health is unreliable, we can expect our garden to be stressed by neglect at some point in the season, so growing a diverse variety of plants will show us which ones can survive going it alone for a while. If we want to support our bodies with a wide range of nutrients, growing lots of very different plants is the perfect way to do that. Not to mention the effort we’ll save in managing pests and disease by camouflaging their target plants in a confusing mixture of other sights and smells.
IN MY GARDEN…
I grow at least eight types of leafy green, because it’s too much effort to make sure a single one is always at its best. If the spinach didn’t germinate, there’s the mizuna. If the mizuna is bolting, there’s the lettuce. If the slugs have devoured the lettuce, there’s the kale. If the kale is still too small, there’s the cress. And if all else really fails, there’s the lamb’s quarters that grows as a weed here but is honestly the tastiest of the lot.
11. Use Edges and Value the Marginal
If you take a permaculture design course, your instructor will point out an intriguing phenomenon, one that you may have observed your whole life without realizing it: in nature, the greatest abundance of life occurs in the places where things overlap.
Where the light of the meadow meets the shelter of the forest, we find berry bushes and everything that eats them. Where the life-giving ocean meets the warm beach, we find tide pools. At the edge of a river, insects thrive on plants that are drinking deep from the water that cradles fish that leap out to swallow the insects. Even in human spaces, trade routes have traditionally been extra vibrant with the co-mingling of intersecting cultures.
Permaculturists encourage this phenomenon by maximizing edges. That’s why you’ll see plenty of curves and keyhole shapes in permaculture designs, rather than straight lines that move quickly from point A to point B. It’s why hedgerows are planted through or around open fields, interrupting the wind and providing habitat to beneficial insects. It’s why pond edges curve in and out, creating sheltered spaces where land animals drink and aquatic creatures find nourishment.
Using edges and valuing the marginal is fundamental to accessible garden design, too. If your mobility is limited, how will you make sure you can reach everything you need to? The more edge you have, the more vantage points you have to access everything from your paths. In a metaphorical sense, we also know that designing for the most marginalized—in this case for our own disabled bodies—maximizes the usefulness of a space for all people. And in that process of problem-solving and experimenting to reach full accessibility, we achieve innovations that would otherwise never have occurred.
IN MY GARDEN…
I grow my vegetables barely a foot away from a wild mix of grasses and flowers that reaches to my chest. Not far behind that is the edge of the forest. It’s a bit of a pain when grasses or blackberries pop up among my tomatoes, but I wouldn’t trade it. The forest gives me abundant leaves for mulch. The field plants shelter native bees and butterflies. Small predators feel safe hunting pesky rodents there, and the local birds provide free fertilizer. Being in this edge-space saves me plenty of work in pest management, soil enhancement, and pollinator attraction. And it’s a wholesome, healing place to spend my time, too.
12. Creatively Use and Respond to Change
Change is inevitable in any system that includes living things, weather, and time. Trees age and cast larger shadows. Perennials mature and fill out. Soil becomes richer as each year’s mulch decomposes.
Because the process of observation never ends in permaculture, change should not come as a surprise—but it should always come as a learning opportunity. If heavy-feeding plants are no longer thriving where they once did, it may be time to grow a cover crop there to replenish the soil. If trees are dying because of pressures that come with climate change, it may be time to add some resilient species from a little bit to your south.
As gentle gardeners, practicing this openness to change, to learning from it and adapting to it, is especially important. We know that change may happen within us, too. Our condition might improve, or deteriorate. A procedure might create an interruption. Our mobility or sensory tolerance might change from day to day. We can prepare ourselves by observing with curiosity and without self-judgment, and by adapting always in ways that serve our needs.
IN MY GARDEN…
I used to grow a lot of beans. Then, because of changes I had to make to my diet, I stopped growing them. Productivity that year among other plants fell sharply. I can’t guarantee it was the loss of the beans’ nitrogen-fixing services, but it’s a reasonable guess. This summer I’ll grow beans for the sake of the soil and let them decompose into it: an offering to Nature for the lessons she teaches me every year.
If this exploration of gardening with chronic illness or disability resonated with you, you might be interested in my ebook, Gentle Gardening: A low-energy guide for uncooperative bodies. You can read a preview here.