“When depression destroyed my life,
“A small garden unexpectedly saved me.”

Cathy, who was on the path to success as the head of global marketing strategy at a major London advertising firm, suddenly experiences burnout, anxiety, and deep depression.
Her daily life was turned upside down in an instant, and she was forced to give up the glamorous career she had worked so hard to build.
The daily life that was consumed by the disease called depression was filled with despair and fear, and became a chaotic mess.
While she was trying to overcome her depression by all means, it was unexpectedly a small garden that saved her from the brink of collapse.


A year of barely being able to move my body and go out to the garden to work the land and grow vegetables.
By touching the soil directly and planting small seeds, you can experience the principles of nature in a garden full of vitality and discover a new value in life.
By harvesting the vegetables she grew herself, eating food made from them, and sharing them with her neighbors, she finds healing in her heart and is able to start a new life.

An unexpectedly romantic tale of rogue pigs who swept through the village, unexpected insights gained while planting leeks, and a miraculous dish made with an overabundance of zucchini.
And a confession about how a tiny radish seed gave her life.
Experiences in the garden are sometimes whimsical, sometimes wonderful, and sometimes unexpectedly comforting and deeply resonant.

If you think about it, nature is truly amazing.
Even when it seems extremely ordinary.
For example, let's think about the life of a vegetable.
One morning in March, I sow a handful of insignificant, inanimate seeds in my vegetable garden.
By July at the latest, a few insignificant seeds have grown into a forest.
It's literally a jungle.
Giant, monstrous plants tangle together and scream in a small field.
I sag, unable to bear the weight of the fruit on my body.
A handful of pale seeds transformed into a bountiful life.
Then, we realize.
The fact that magic is unfolding before your eyes.
The story of 'Jack and the Beanstalk' is not an exaggeration.
It's truly a dazzling sight.
I've been growing vegetables for 11 years now, and I'm still amazed by this wonder every time.
The process of transforming a single seed into dinner is truly magical.
During that time, I recover and heal.
Growing your own food, even if it's just a pot of herbs on your windowsill, is good for both your body and mind.
--- p.13 From the "Prologue"

Looking back now, burnout was a very predictable outcome.
I've been stressed for over 10 years, and last year I suffered from jet lag for the entire year.
Like many in similar situations, my body and brain slowly shut down over several weeks.
And then, little by little, but mercilessly, my mind began to crumble.
There was no dramatic moment or clear event that made it clear that I was not in my right mind.
Instead, slowly, subtly, despair, fear, and dysfunction crept over me.
I was no longer the same person I used to be.
--- p.21

While depression is common, it is not routine.
Depression is not an unpleasant illness that everyone experiences at least once, like chickenpox.
This disease is not a stage in life, nor is it a predetermined fate.
You can't prepare yourself mentally in advance.
In short, it is a disease that is a mess.
It's like a horrible, unpredictable, unpleasant train derailment.
I don't want to make it happen even to the person I hate the most.
--- p.28

There's nothing better than a garden in June.
Unlike late summer, when the ground is cracked by drought and the plants are yellow from overwork, early summer is full of life and neat.
The soil is a deep chocolate color thanks to the summer rains, and the crops planted after the late frosts of late May still stand neatly in rows, free from weeds and careless hands.
Plants, with their youthful vitality, grow towards the sky to welcome the pouring sunlight.
The whole world is fragrant, fresh, and green.
It's green all around.

Who knew there were so many shades of green? The whitish green of the broad bean, its sturdy, straight stems supporting the weight of its plump pods.
In front of it, the dark green of the kale, with its curly leaves curled into a circle because it had just been transplanted from the seedbed.
And between the two greens, the cartoonishly vivid greens of squash, green beans, pumpkin, and spinach, all growing so quickly that they're visible.
Among these various shades of green, colorful fireworks explode.
Yellow tomato flowers, light purple bean flowers, white pea flowers.
The flowers look like Christmas lights against the green background.

This month is one where you have to work diligently like a worker bee in a vegetable garden.
It is a time when both gardeners and plants must give their all to achieve a bountiful harvest.
--- p.31

The emotion that surrounded me all week was fear.
A nightmarish fear that is felt through the body and makes your stomach twist.
I've always been plagued by anxiety about having to perform well or do things right, but this time something felt different.
I felt an inexplicable fear.
Nor did it stem from any specific concerns about work reports, business trips, or tricky meetings with the advertising team.
A sense of dread, of unknown origin, surged from deep within my stomach, sending me into a state of panic.
Every sound made me cringe, as if it were a sign that something I had been fearing was about to happen.
Finally, the sky falls and everything is lost.
I wake up every morning trembling with fear.
Fear enveloped me like a heavy lead blanket all day, suffocating me.
At the end of the day, I would fall asleep exhausted, and wake up all night, crushed by the weight of fear.
--- p.36

Even though I didn't have the energy to make an omelet, I was able to do this simple routine of going to the field once every few days without thinking about it.
I just trudged along and started working quietly.
Like a kind of meditation.
There was only one thing to do, and it was simple yet satisfying.
Because you don't have to decide anything, you just have to dig a hole.
Moreover, it was not a meaningless thing, but one filled with hope.
Hope that the seedlings will grow.
I didn't know how to express it at the time, but I had a vague idea that I had to hold on until the seedlings grew fully.
The thought of harvest brought with it a vague feeling that things would get better in the future.
Good things are waiting for you.
While working in the field, I was completely immersed in the present.
This very moment was the center of my life.
It was a moment of peace, hope, and healing.
--- p.85

If I was in the vegetable garden, I could spend hours in silence.
As the chatter in my head and the constant self-criticism subsided, my mind finally became quiet.
As if the noisy radio news channel had been turned off and the air in the room had become quiet.
Now I could enjoy the luxury of inner peace.
I didn't fill the quiet blank space in my mind with other distracting thoughts like 'to-do lists', 'to-remember lists', or 'anxiety about the future'.
I was absorbed in the life growing buried in the soil.
The anxiety inside me disappeared under the presence of nature.

As if meditating, I was deeply immersed in this moment.
I observed my quiet mind and noticed how flexible it became when I didn't have to form my thoughts into sentences.
I didn't feel the need to organize or hold onto the thoughts that passed by.
My job was right here, in the dirt.
now.
Without any disturbance.
There was only peace.

--- p.112