How Succulents Sparked My Love of Gardening
- caryl55
- Oct 23
- 3 min read
When people ask where my love of gardening began, they usually expect a romantic story about helping a grandparent in a vegetable patch, or wild childhood afternoons collecting pine cones in hedgerows. But the truth is that it all started in 2018… with succulents.

Back then, I knew very little about plants beyond the obvious: they needed sunlight and water. My houseplants were hit-and-miss (mostly miss), and I wasn’t confident enough to stray into anything fussy or fragile. Succulents, though, were different. Their quirky shapes and sculptural leaves caught my eye instantly - like living ornaments with personality.
I still remember the exact plant that started it all: a Crassula ovata, more lovingly known as a jade plant. It sat on my windowsill, quietly thriving while everything else wilted around it. There was something grounding about watching this glossy, miniature tree do its thing - storing water in plump leaves, strengthening its trunk, slowly forming the iconic bonsai-style silhouette.
Curiosity took hold. What was it about succulents that made them so resilient? Why did different varieties have such unique forms? How did they survive in such harsh native environments? Google searches spiralled into YouTube tutorials, Instagram accounts, Pinterest boards… and before I knew it, I’d fallen headfirst into the world of horticulture.
Around the same time, as I began researching whether our crushed whelk shells could be turned into a viable product, I noticed something fascinating: gardeners in America were already using crushed shells to top-dress plant pots and terrariums. Not only did it look beautiful - it helped with drainage, airflow and pest deterrence. But here in the UK? I could hardly find anyone doing it. It felt like a genuine lightbulb moment. There was a gap in the market, inspired by the very thing that had sparked my love of plants in the first place.

The real turning point came when I discovered propagation. The idea that you could create whole new plants from a single leaf felt like quiet magic. I carefully removed a jade leaf, laid it on dry coir, and waited - maybe slightly obsessively - for 3-4 weeks. When those tiny roots and the faintest hint of new growth appeared, I was hooked. That spark of wonder was addictive.

Propagation taught me patience. It taught me observation - how to read a plant’s needs, how light changes behaviour, how soil composition can make or break success. And it taught me that growth doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it’s slow and steady, happening quietly beneath the surface until one day you notice… something’s changed.
From succulents, my confidence grew. I began experimenting with other houseplants, bulbs, hardy perennials, and more challenging species. I learned the thrill of trying, failing, adjusting, and trying again. Gardening turned from hobby to therapy - a chance to disconnect from screens and reconnect with something simple and alive. I also started crafting using succulents.

Succulents were the perfect gateway. Their low-maintenance nature meant they forgave mistakes, and their diversity kept me interested. They encouraged me to notice textures, colours, lighting angles, and growth rhythms. In short: they nurtured the gardener in me before I knew one existed.
Today, gardening feels woven into my lifestyle. I grow food for my family, experiment with seasonal displays, and - ironically - no longer need the reassurance of “easy-care” plants. Yet, even now, my shelves are still home to jade plants.

If you’d told me in 2018 that a single succulent would spark a full-blown passion (and eventually a business steeped in coastal gardening culture), I wouldn’t have believed you. But that’s the beauty of plants. Sometimes all it takes is one tiny leaf to change the entire landscape of your life.
And it all started with a jade plant. 🌿✨







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