Author: admin

Today, 1 October 2026, marks one year since Hubby and I took over Sylvia Pass Nursery, and I have been sitting thinking about how on earth I got here because the funny part of this whole story is that I never grew up dreaming about owning a nursery, I wasn’t the child collecting plants in the garden, I wasn’t the person who could tell you the difference between seventeen varieties of anything and I certainly didn’t spend my life imagining myself surrounded by bags of compost and pallets of pots.

Somehow, though, here we are.

A year ago we took over the nursery and I walked into this completely different world where suddenly I had to understand plants, seasons, suppliers, soil, stock, pricing, customers, deliveries, workshops, pests, diseases, watering, sunlight, shade and a whole language of gardening that I was learning while actually running the business. There was no leisurely learning period where I could sit down with a cup of tea and slowly figure everything out. The nursery was open, customers were coming through the gate and I had to learn as I went.

And I have learnt a hell of a lot.

The first thing I learnt is that owning a nursery is not just about selling plants. There is a whole business behind those plants that nobody sees when they walk in and admire everything looking pretty. There are suppliers to chase, stock to find, prices to work out, margins to protect, deliveries to organise, invoices to send, plants to count and then count again because somehow the numbers don’t match, and there is always something that needs fixing, moving, cleaning, watering or paying for.

I also discovered that plants have absolutely no respect for business plans. You can carefully plan your stock, your space and your season and then the weather decides to do something completely different. Summer brings rain and growth and then suddenly everything needs attention at once. Winter slows things down and you start wondering if anything is ever going to move again. Spring arrives and suddenly everyone in Johannesburg decides they are going to become gardeners and wants everything immediately. Then you discover that the supplier doesn’t have half of what you need.

The weather has definitely been one of our biggest characters this year, along with electricity, Wi-Fi, suppliers and the occasional piece of equipment deciding that its time on earth has come to an end. There have been days where one thing after another has gone wrong and you stand there thinking that perhaps the universe is trying to tell you something. Then you remember that you have customers waiting, plants that need attention and bills that still need paying, so you carry on.

There have been plenty of ups as well, and those are the things I really want to remember when I look back at this first year. We have watched the nursery change and grow. We have brought in stock that I would never have imagined myself choosing a year ago. We have had proteas, herbs, vegetables, indoor plants, trees, shrubs, flowers, rare plants, hanging baskets and all sorts of things that I have had to learn about quickly enough to be able to answer questions about them without looking completely clueless.

And then came the workshops, which have probably been one of the biggest surprises of the year for me. We have had orchid workshops, repotting days, plant swaps, macramé, gardening for beginners, terrariums, mosaic, knitting and crochet and all sorts of other ideas that somehow turned the nursery into much more than somewhere people come to buy a plant.

That is probably the thing I have learnt that I didn’t expect to learn.

The nursery is about people.

It is about the woman who comes in because she has no idea what is wrong with her plant and leaves feeling like she can actually save it. It is about the person buying their first plant and needing someone to explain where to put it. It is about customers who keep coming back until they become familiar faces and then suddenly you realise you know what they are going to ask for before they even say hello.

It is about the workshops where people who didn’t know each other arrive and spend two hours sitting together, making something, laughing and talking, and leave having made new connections. It is about plant swaps and little conversations and people sharing cuttings and advice. It is about creating a place where people actually want to spend some time rather than simply coming in, buying something and leaving.

There have also been some proper business lessons along the way.

I have learnt that not every idea is a good idea just because it sounds exciting at the time. I have learnt that some ideas require considerably more work than they look like they will require. I have learnt that stock that looks absolutely fantastic when you order it doesn’t necessarily fly off the shelves, while something you nearly didn’t order can disappear in two days.

I have learnt that you can spend an embarrassing amount of time doing stocktakes and still somehow end up with plants that were never on the list in the first place.

I have learnt that cash flow matters, margins matter, planning matters and sometimes you have to say no to things even when you really want to say yes. I have learnt that running a business means making decisions without always knowing whether they are going to work and then having to live with the result.

I have also learnt a lot about people.

The good people have been incredible. The customers who support us, the suppliers who help us, the people who recommend us, the people who share our posts, the people who come to the workshops and the people who have simply walked through the gate and become part of our little nursery community have made this year what it has been.

And then, like every business, there are the other experiences that teach you something as well.

You learn that not everyone will understand what you are trying to build. You learn that you cannot make everyone happy. You learn not to take every difficult interaction home with you and you learn that sometimes the best thing you can do is take the lesson, leave the rest and carry on.

There have been days when I have felt completely out of my depth and days when I have looked around the nursery and thought that maybe I actually know what I am doing.

There have been days where I have been exhausted and days where I have been so excited about something new that I couldn’t wait to get started.

There have been expensive lessons, funny lessons, frustrating lessons and lessons that I didn’t realise were lessons until months later.

And somewhere in all of this, I became a nursery owner.

Not because it was something I had planned my whole life.

Not because I had some childhood dream of spending my days surrounded by plants.

It happened because we took a chance on something, and then I decided that if I was going to do it, I was going to learn everything I possibly could and give it a proper go.

A year later, I can walk through the nursery and see how much has changed. I know the stock better. I understand the seasons better. I know what sells, what doesn’t, what customers ask for and what I need to have ready before they ask for it. I understand the business far better than I did twelve months ago, and I am still learning something new every single week.

And Hubby has had his own experience of this first year because apparently when you buy a nursery with your wife, you also become involved in every idea she has, every delivery that needs unloading, every improvement that needs doing and every new project that suddenly appears on the list.

I don’t think either of us could have predicted what this year would actually look like.

We certainly didn’t predict the amount of soil that would become part of our lives.

We didn’t predict the workshops, the events, the customers who would become friends, the endless stock, the problems with electricity and Wi-Fi, the suppliers, the deliveries, the crazy weather or the number of times I would rearrange the nursery because I had decided it needed to look different.

But looking back, I am incredibly proud of what we have built.

Not because it has been easy, because it hasn’t.

Not because everything has gone according to plan, because it definitely hasn’t.

I am proud because we kept going.

We learnt.

We changed things.

We made mistakes.

We tried again.

We celebrated the good days and survived the bad ones.

And slowly, Sylvia Pass Nursery became more than something we bought. It became something we built.

So today, one year later, I am grateful for the people who have been part of this first year and for everything the year has taught me.

I came into this without a lifelong love of gardening and without knowing anywhere near as much about plants as I know now.

I have come out the other side knowing that I still have an enormous amount to learn, but also knowing that I can actually do this.

And that, for me, is probably the biggest achievement of the year.

One year of Sylvia Pass Nursery, and I am still here, still learning, still making plans, still filling the nursery with plants and still wondering where the hell I am going to put the next delivery.

Happy first birthday to Sylvia Pass Nursery.

I think we have earned the cake.

And possibly a week off.

Although knowing me, I’ll probably spend the week ordering plants.

SYLVIA PASS NURSERY
59 Frederick Street, Sylvia Pass, Observatory
061 805 9761
www.sylviapassnursery.co.za
Instagram: @sylviapassnursary

Come grow with us.

Spring being around the corner completely messes with my ability to behave like a sensible adult.

It starts innocently enough. I tell myself, I’m just going to prepare the nursery for Spring. Which sounds responsible.

What I actually mean is… I’m going to order plants. Then I’m going to order more plants.

Then I’m going to see another plant and think, Oh, that would look lovely.

And before I know it, I have ordered lots and lots and more and lots and an additional amount of lots.

Because apparently Spring requires preparation. And by preparation, I mean turning Sylvia Pass Nursery into a jungle.

The staples are already on their way into my Spring plans. Azaleas, hydrangeas, elephant ears, Mona Lisa and all sorts of other gorgeous things that make me completely forget that there is such a thing as restraint.

And then the deliveries start arriving.

One of the recent arrivals was my Bougainvillea, and naturally I had to make a video because when something that beautiful arrives at the nursery, it feels rude not to show everybody.

There is something about a Bougainvillea that just screams, Summer is coming, even when the weather hasn’t quite got the memo yet.

And while I’m preparing for Spring, the garden has decided it has its own agenda.

The aphids have apparently received the Spring newsletter before I have. Normally my garden isn’t completely overrun with them, but you can suddenly find them having little meetings on the new growth as if they’ve booked the plants for themselves.

So out comes the neem oil.

Mine is already diluted, because I am very much a fan of making gardening as uncomplicated as possible.

Gardening is sometimes less about eliminating every creature in the garden and more about convincing them to eat somewhere else.

Which brings me to elephant ears.

I’ve had another elephant ear question this week because somebody had a plant producing lots of new leaves, only for those leaves to eventually start looking sickly.

And this is one of those situations where a plant can look like it’s doing wonderfully because it’s producing new growth, while something underneath isn’t quite right.

Watering, drainage, light, feeding and the condition of the roots can all come into play.

Plants are very good at keeping secrets until suddenly they aren’t.And speaking of light, someone asked whether a bamboo palm can live outside in shade.

Yes.

And this is exactly why I love talking about plants. Because “shade” doesn’t automatically mean “no plants allowed.”

There are so many beautiful plants that actually prefer protection from harsh direct sunlight. The trick is understanding what kind of shade you’re dealing with and choosing a plant that is happy in those conditions. Then there are the hydrangeas.

Someone asked me about hybrid hydrangeas, and once again I found myself going down the rabbit hole of plant terminology.

Because apparently we can’t just say, “That’s a pretty hydrangea.” We need cultivars, hybrids, macrophylla, growing habits and approximately seventeen different things to discuss before we’re allowed to admire the flowers.

And somewhere in between all of this, I’m also dealing with quotes.

And the very important clarification that I have Sunrise but I don’t have Golden King.

Because this is what running a nursery is actually like. One minute you’re admiring a beautiful new plant. The next you’re checking whether you’ve got the right cultivar for somebody’s order while simultaneously trying to remember what you’ve ordered for Spring and wondering where you’re going to put all of it.

And that’s the thing about Spring.

It hasn’t even properly arrived yet and I’m already preparing for it like it’s an incoming invasion.

I’m rearranging.

I’m ordering.

I’m planning.

I’m checking stock.

I’m answering plant questions.

I’m dealing with aphids.

I’m rescuing unhappy elephant ears.

I’m explaining hydrangeas.

I’m finding shade-loving plants.

And I’m standing in the nursery looking around thinking…

Where on earth am I going to put everything?

But then a new delivery arrives. and I see that Bougainvillea. And suddenly I remember exactly why I do this. Because there is nothing quite like watching a nursery come alive. Winter might still be hanging around. Spring might technically still be on its way But the plants don’t care about our calendars.

They start pushing new growth. Buds appear. Flowers start showing off. New stock arrives.
And suddenly the whole place feels like it’s waking up.

So yes, I’ve been preparing for Spring.

Perhaps slightly too enthusiastically.

But if you’re looking for me over the next few weeks, I’ll probably be somewhere underneath a pile of plants, covered in soil, talking to a hydrangea and wondering why I thought ordering “just a few more” was a good idea.

And if you see me doing it again…

Please don’t stop me.

I’ve clearly got Spring fever.

Terry

Sylvia Pass Nursery
59 Frederick Street, Sylvia Pass Observatory
061 805 9761
www.sylviapassnursery.co.za
Instagram: @sylviapassnursary

Follow along on our WhatsApp Channel for nursery updates, new plants and what’s happening at Sylvia Pass Nursery.

Join our Workshop WhatsApp Group if you’d like to hear about upcoming workshops and events.

And if you haven’t subscribed to our newsletter yet, come and join us there too — it’s where I get to tell the longer stories behind the nursery, the plants and everything that happens around here.

#garden #plantlovers #plantstyle #indoorplants #houseplants #plantaddict #urbanjungle #gardening #sylviapassnursery #springgarden #springgardening #hydrangeas #azaleas #elephantears #bougainvillea #plantlife #nurserylife

So… how was yesterday?

HA!!!!!

Let me tell you something. Yesterday was the kind of cold where you start questioning whether you actually need to leave your bed ever again.

I got up in the morning with every intention of going to Sylvia Pass Nursery and opening the shop. I had things to do. I had work waiting for me. I had messages to answer, quotes to do, marketing to sort out and a nursery that, unfortunately, does not run itself just because Terry has decided winter is offensive.

So I got myself ready.

Well… when I say I got myself ready, I mean I warmed up every item of clothing with the heater before putting it on.

Yes.

Every.

Single.

Item.

I was basically ironing myself with a heater.

Underwear? Warm it up.

T-shirt? Warm it up.

Jersey? Warm it up.

Pants? Warm them up.

At one point I was standing there with clothes draped around the heater like I was running a laundromat.

And then I got dressed.

Layers upon layers.

Nothing matched.

My hair was shoved into a hoodie.

I had absolutely no fashion sense left.

Winter Terry is not interested in looking cute. Winter Terry is interested in survival.

And just as I was getting ready to leave, I stood there and thought…

Why?

Why am I doing this?

Does it actually make sense to open a nursery when it is so cold that even the plants look like they want a blanket?

So I made the executive decision.

I stayed home.

And before anyone gets jealous thinking I spent the day lounging around doing absolutely nothing, let me clarify.

I was still working.

I did marketing.

I answered messages.

I did quotes.

I dealt with nursery business.

I just did it from underneath a blanket.

Because apparently I have reached the stage of entrepreneurship where the office is wherever the heater is.

Then came supper time.

And this is where I realised just how bad it was.

I couldn’t cook.

THE KITCHEN FELT LIKE A FRIDGE.

I stood there thinking about making supper and my body simply refused to participate.

Why don’t we have proper indoor heating in South Africa?

Seriously.

Why are we all just expected to walk around our homes wearing three layers, slippers, socks, hoodies and blankets while holding a cup of something hot?

In other countries people have proper heating.

Meanwhile, here we are sitting next to little heaters that look like they were designed to warm one teaspoon of water.

Safe to say, next year I am putting a fireplace in my bedroom.

I have decided.

There will be no committee meeting.

There will be no consultation.

There will be a fireplace.

Because guys…

I AM A SUMMER GIRL.

I know I own a nursery.

I know I should probably be embracing the seasons.

I know winter has its place.

I know the gardens need rain.

I know the soil needs moisture.

I know that after all the August dust we’ve had flying around, yesterday’s rain was actually a blessing.

And I am grateful for it.

I really am.

But being grateful for rain and wanting to personally live in a permanent summer climate can both be true.

Ya ya ya.

I know.

The gardens needed it.

The plants needed it.

The dust needed it.

Everything needed it.

BUT TERRY DID NOT NEED THAT TEMPERATURE.

My bones have officially lodged a complaint.

And the funny thing about owning a nursery is that every time I complain about the cold, I look around at all my plants and think…

Well, at least somebody here is happy.

Because gardening teaches you something whether you want to learn it or not.

Plants don’t get to choose the weather.

They have to adapt.

They have to wait.

They go through cold periods, dry periods, wet periods, heat, wind, storms and everything else Mother Nature decides to throw at them.

And then, when the conditions are right, they start growing again.

That is probably one of the things I love most about gardening.

You can look at a garden in winter and think it looks a little tired, a little bare and a little lifeless.

But underneath the soil, there is still plenty happening.

Roots are sitting there.

Plants are resting.

Some are preparing for their next flush of growth.

Some are getting ready to flower.

And some are simply waiting for that little change in temperature that tells them spring is coming.

Which brings me back to the nursery.

Because although I might be sitting here complaining about the cold like a woman who has personally been betrayed by August, things are actually starting to happen.

I’m expecting deliveries this week.

And there is colour coming.

Beautiful colour.

I’ve already had a few people walking into the nursery looking for something to brighten up their gardens, and I completely understand.

After weeks of winter, everyone starts looking for that little bit of life.

A splash of colour.

A new plant.

A flowering shrub.

Something that makes you look at your garden and think, okay, we’re getting somewhere now.

And that is exactly what I’m looking forward to.

Getting Sylvia Pass Nursery ready for that transition from winter into spring.

Because this is actually a brilliant time to start thinking about your garden.

You don’t have to wait until everything is flowering to start planning.

Look around your garden now.

What survived winter beautifully?

What looks miserable and needs replacing?

Where are the gaps?

Where do you need some colour?

Where could you add a tree?

Where could you put in a few shrubs that will give you something to look forward to when spring really gets going?

And if you’re anything like me, you will also suddenly realise that there is a space in your garden that has apparently been waiting for a plant for the last three years.

You know the one.

That empty corner.

The one you’ve been looking at every single time you walk past it.

The one where you’ve said, I’ll put something there.

And then three years later…

Nothing.

Just soil.

That space is calling you.

I can feel it.

So while I’m personally waiting for this cold snap to disappear and for my toes to regain feeling, I’m also getting excited about what’s coming into the nursery.

New stock.

New colour.

Spring approaching.

Gardens waking up.

And hopefully temperatures that don’t require me to dress like I’m preparing for an expedition to Antarctica.

Today I’m opening.

Because I cannot be closed for two days.

There is work to do.

Plants to look after.

Deliveries to receive.

Customers to help.

Quotes to send.

Gardens to plan.

And apparently, a whole lot of winter to survive.

So if you see me at the nursery today wearing approximately fourteen layers, just know that this is not a fashion statement.

This is survival gardening.

The Terry Chronicles continue.

One freezing morning at a time.

And somewhere between the cold snap disappearing and summer arriving, Sylvia Pass Nursery is going to be bursting with colour again.

And I, for one, cannot wait.

Because I am a summer girl.

Always have been.

Always will be.

Now… where is my heater?

Sylvia Pass Nursery
59 Frederick Street, Sylvia Pass, Observatory
061 805 9761
www.sylviapassnursery.co.za
Instagram: @sylviapassnursary

Join our WhatsApp Channel for nursery updates, new stock and what’s happening at Sylvia Pass Nursery.

Join our Workshop WhatsApp Group to hear about upcoming workshops and secure your spot.

Want to keep up with everything happening at the nursery? Subscribe to our newsletter through our website.

Ten months ago, if you’d asked me the difference between half the plants sitting in my nursery today, I probably would’ve smiled, nodded, and quietly changed the subject.

Yet somehow, here I am.

The owner of a nursery.

Not because I’d spent years studying horticulture. Not because I’d always dreamed of owning one. And definitely not because I knew what I was doing.

I bought a nursery anyway.

Every morning I unlock the gate, look around and think, “Right… now what?”

Some days a truck arrives packed with plants I’ve never even heard of. Other days customers ask me questions that send me down a Google rabbit hole. Every week I discover another plant that I suddenly become convinced everyone needs in their garden.

Then I order too many.

That’s another thing nobody warned me about. Plants are addictive. I used to think people were exaggerating when they said they couldn’t leave a nursery without buying something. Now I’m the one placing orders and wondering where on earth I’m going to fit everything.

The funniest part? People really do spend serious money on plants.

The first time someone happily handed over a chunk of cash for a beautiful specimen, I nearly questioned whether they’d picked up the wrong price tag. Apparently not. They smiled, hugged their new plant like a baby and drove off as happy as could be.

I’ve learnt that gardeners are a special breed.

They’re excited by new leaves.

They’ll drive across town for a plant they’ve been hunting for.

They’ll stand in front of a flowering shrub with the biggest grin on their face.

And somehow, without even noticing it, they’ve turned me into one of them.

The nursery itself is still a work in progress. My little Wendy house is slowly becoming what I imagined when I first took this leap. Every month something changes. A new corner. A new display. Another delivery. Another crazy idea.

I have plenty of those.

If there’s one thing you’ll learn about me, it’s that I have enough ideas to keep ten businesses busy. My challenge isn’t dreaming them up—it’s remembering to finish one before the next one arrives in my head.

So that’s what this blog is going to be.

Not gardening lessons from an expert.

Just the honest, funny and sometimes slightly chaotic adventures of someone learning the nursery business one day at a time. I’ll share what surprises me, what makes me laugh, what goes wrong, what goes right, and everything in between.

If you enjoy a good story, love plants, or simply want to watch a rookie figure it all out, then I think we’re going to get along just fine.

And if you’re ever nearby, pop into Sylvia Pass Nursery. You might leave with a plant you never planned on buying… and if you catch me chatting to one of them, just pretend that’s completely normal.

There are weeks when I arrive at Sylvia Pass Nursery with a plan. I know exactly what I’m going to do. The greenhouse needs tidying, a new shipment of plants has to be unpacked, a customer wants advice on a struggling fiddle leaf fig, and somewhere in the middle of it all I convince myself that this will finally be the day I drink a cup of coffee while it’s still hot.

Then life smiles, folds its arms, and completely changes the script.

This week my nursery quietly transformed itself into a courier company.

Not overnight. It happened so gradually that I didn’t even notice. One customer asked if I could deliver an indoor plant. “Of course,” I replied. I carefully loaded it into my little NP200, Toyata Yaris ( year im calling her a bakkie) making sure it was snug and comfortable. You’d swear I was driving royalty instead of a Monstera.

Then another delivery came in. Then another. Then another.

Before long, my poor NP200 Toyota Yaris looked less like a work vehicle and more like a botanical escape attempt. Plants were occupying the passenger seat, leaves were brushing the roof lining, and every time I turned a corner I found myself apologising to a Calathea as if she’d complain to management.

If another driver peeked through my window, I’m convinced they thought I had started transporting sections of the Amazon rainforest around Johannesburg.

And I absolutely loved it.

There’s something incredibly satisfying about delivering a plant to someone’s home. You ring the bell, the door opens, and suddenly you’re not handing over a pot with leaves. You’re delivering excitement. You’re delivering a new beginning. You’re placing something alive into someone’s home, something that might greet them every morning for the next ten years.

Plants have a strange way of becoming family. They quietly witness birthdays, renovations, heartbreaks, celebrations, lazy Sunday afternoons and everything in between. Long after you’ve forgotten where you bought your lounge suite, you’ll still remember the fiddle leaf fig standing proudly in the corner.

I get to be part of that story. That’s quite a special feeling.

Then, just as I thought my week couldn’t become any more interesting, the landscapers started calling.

“Hi Terry, do you have this shrub?” “Can you get compost?” “Do you stock topsoil?”

Now you’re talking my language.

I don’t know why, but supplying landscapers excites me. Maybe it’s because I don’t just see bags of compost and trays of plants. I picture what they’re about to become. A dusty piece of ground transformed into a garden. An empty entrance becoming a welcoming driveway. AND come on Landscapers bring in my targets to keep open. 

Gardens begin long before the first flower blooms. They begin with someone loading soil onto a trailer. So this is my official advert.

Dear landscapers…

I’m here.

I’ve got plants.

I’ve got soil.

I’ve got compost.

I’ve got everything you need.

Well… almost everything.

I originally wanted to say I’ve got coffee too, but then I’d be lying because if you arrive expecting a cappuccino, you may leave with a bag of compost instead.

Close enough.

Now, because I wanted to impress everyone and because I genuinely appreciate every customer who chooses Sylvia Pass Nursery, I delivered everything free of charge this week.

Before the rumours start… Let’s just clear something up. Free delivery was this week’s special.

The second trip?

You’re paying.

Diesel has become rather attached to my bank account lately. If things carry on at this pace, I might actually need to hire someone. Can you imagine that interview? “So… tell me about your experience.” “I’ve got none.” “Excellent.” “However, I can fit seventeen plants, three bags of compost, two watering cans and somehow still find room for myself.”

“When can you start?”

I have to admit though, this weather has been spoiling us.

Winter has arrived with surprisingly good manners this year.

Every morning I walk through the nursery while the sun is still low enough to paint everything in soft gold. The greenhouse feels warm without being hot. The leaves catch little drops of water that sparkle for a few moments before disappearing. Freshly watered soil releases that rich earthy fragrance that no expensive perfume company has ever managed to bottle.

There is something incredibly calming about that smell.

It’s warm.

It’s familiar.

It’s comforting.

Sometimes I wander through the greenhouse before customers arrive and simply enjoy the silence. The only sounds are birds outside, the occasional drip from a hanging basket and leaves gently brushing against one another whenever a breeze sneaks through.

If peace had a scent, I’m convinced it would smell like damp potting soil.

Next week we’re already in the middle of July.

How did that happen?

Wasn’t it Easter about three Tuesdays ago?

Which brings me to one of my favourite gardening jobs…

Rose pruning.

Now I know many of you look at your roses every winter with exactly the same expression I wear when technology asks me to update something.

Confused.

Nervous.

And slightly suspicious.

Every year I hear the same questions.

“What if I cut too much?”

“What if I don’t cut enough?”

“What if I kill it?”

“What if my rose never forgives me?”

The poor roses must think we’re the most indecisive species on earth.

We happily trust a hairdresser to remove twenty centimetres of our own hair without blinking, yet we stand in front of a rose bush debating one tiny branch for half an hour.

So I’ve decided we’re going to learn properly.

Not from Google.

Not from someone’s cousin’s neighbour who once owned a rose.

Not from a thirty-second video where someone says, “Just cut here,” without explaining why.

I’m inviting a rose expert to Sylvia Pass Nursery so we can all learn together.

We’ll spend a morning walking through the nursery, secateurs in hand, asking every question we’ve ever wanted to ask. We’ll learn where to cut, why we cut there, what should stay, what should go and how to encourage stronger, healthier roses that reward us with beautiful blooms when spring finally arrives.

The best part about gardening has never been getting everything right.

It’s learning.

Every season teaches us something new.

Sometimes it’s patience.

Sometimes it’s humility.

Sometimes it’s simply remembering to water before your plants start filing complaints.

So, if this sounds like something you’d enjoy, let me know.

If enough people are interested, I’ll organise a date and we’ll spend the morning surrounded by roses, good conversation, plenty of laughter and hopefully leave feeling a lot more confident than when we arrived.

As always, thank you for supporting Sylvia Pass Nursery.

Whether you’ve bought one little succulent, filled your trailer with compost, shared one of my posts, recommended us to a friend or simply popped in for a chat, you’ve become part of this little journey.

Every week this nursery grows a little more.

Not just because the plants do.

Because of the people.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

See you all at Sylvia Pass Nursery soon.

— Terry