Common Grounds with Ericka Cadag: Healing and Home Gardening

I think my love for gardening began with my mom’s little balcony garden. When I was a child, that space felt like a quiet sanctuary—just a few pots and hanging plants, but it was full of life and care. I remember spending time there when my parents were away, feeling safe and held by the space she had created. It was as if her love lingered in the leaves, quietly keeping me company even when she wasn’t around.

That small balcony garden wasn’t anything fancy, but to me, it was everything. I would sit there quietly, play among the leaves, or just watch the light dance through the vines. Somehow, being in that space made me feel like I wasn’t alone. Looking back, I realize that garden was more than just plants—it was my first lesson in love, care, and the quiet power of tending something living. It was a way of saying, “You’re loved, even when I’m not here.”

As I’ve grown older, my connection to gardening has deepened. My mother, with her green thumb, first sparked my curiosity and appreciation for plants, and later, my husband’s love for houseplants inspired me to dream of having my own garden one day. Gardening has become more than a hobby for me—it is a source of healing. Just walking past a green corner, tending a small plant, or sitting near something alive brings me peace. It’s like my soul exhales, and I’m reminded that I am part of something gentle and alive.

The beauty of gardening, I’ve learned, isn’t in having the biggest space or the most perfect plants—it’s in the act of caring. Whether it’s herbs on a windowsill or houseplants in a corner, tending to living things teaches patience, presence, and love. Gardening reconnects me with myself, with cherished memories, and with a form of care that doesn’t need words.

Although I don’t have my own garden yet, I dream of the day I can create a space that carries the same quiet love I felt on my mother’s balcony. A garden that grows not just plants, but also calm, connection, and hope.

Gardening has taught me that even the smallest acts of care can root deeply—both in the soil and in the heart. It has shown me that love can live in leaves, and healing can bloom quietly, one plant at a time.

Ericka Cadag

Executive Assistant

Garden Enthusiast