Memory in Bloom

Featured in Country Living: Why “Nostalgia Gardening” Isn’t a Trend—It’s the Soul of My Work

There are certain smells—crushed rosemary, lilac after rain, tomato vines in July—that take me back without asking. Memory doesn’t need a plane ticket. It needs petals.

That’s why I build gardens.

And that’s why being featured in Country Living’s February 2025 article on Nostalgia Gardening didn’t feel like a press moment. It felt like a mirror. The movement they described—gardens shaped by memory, heritage, and slow joy—is the movement I’ve been living and planting in Tennessee clay for years.

“For me, it is not just a style but a soulful practice of reviving the landscapes of childhood,
where each element is chosen not only for its beauty but also for its ability to evoke a sense of belonging and wonder.”
– Clare Horne, Country Living, Feb 2025

Gardens as Living Storybooks

Since the beginning of The Grass Girl, I’ve designed landscapes not as decoration, but as living memoirs—a way for families to trace their stories in leaf and loam.

“Plants have always been like chapters in a living storybook for me,
each one carrying memories of days gone by.”

Think of the canna lilies your grandmother grew. The first Allium bloom your child saw hovering with bees. Or the rusted trowel left in the soil by a father who planted too deep and watered too little but still tried. These aren't just details. They are design elements. They shape what I plant and how I place it.

“Rudbeckia, with its sunny, bold faces, recalls the carefree exuberance of childhood adventures
in fields ablaze with color.”

Plants that Time-Travel

The Country Living piece wove together so many voices, but what made me pause was how much space they gave to the emotional root system beneath each design choice.

“Together, these plants do more than simply beautify a garden; they create a vibrant collage of memory and emotion.”

For my clients, that might mean edible gardens designed to recreate the “playful afternoons spent with their parents,”
where harvesting tomatoes felt like a treasure hunt and dirty fingernails were a badge of honor.

“Some of my clients lean toward edible gardens that harken back to those playful afternoons
spent with their parents, when the simple joy of planting and harvesting was the day’s greatest adventure.”

Others gravitate toward bold, architectural blooms—like Alliums—that summon something cinematic:

“Their striking, architectural blooms remind me of the joy of communal celebrations in sunlit meadows.”

Materials that Carry Heritage

The nostalgia doesn’t stop with plants. It carries into the hardscapes and furniture—each piece selected to echo warmth and story, not just Pinterest trends.

“My clients are increasingly moving away from modern, minimalist aesthetics
and are instead embracing traditional furniture designs.”

“Pieces crafted from warm teak wood and custom wrought-iron not only provide functional seating and accents
but also carry a heritage of design that complements the organic textures of nature.”

These materials belong in a nostalgic garden. They age with grace, patina over time, and feel invited, not imposed.

Water as Memory

Water features are often treated like status symbols—noisy, sterile jets designed to impress. But in the landscapes I create, water is for remembering.

“A softly bubbling fountain or a serene pond does more than reflect light;
it creates a meditative sanctuary,
where the gentle sound of water transports you back to a time when life was savored at a slower pace.”

This isn't luxury for luxury's sake. It's luxury as presence, as pause. A garden should hold you in a way time doesn’t often allow.

Not a Trend. A Return.

“This isn’t just a fleeting trend—
it’s a heartfelt response to our need for peace, presence, and a renewed connection to our past.”

That final line in the article could have been the mission statement for my life. I didn't start The Grass Girl to chase a design wave. I started it to return myself and my clients to something slower, deeper, truer.

And to be quoted so generously by Country Living—a magazine that shaped the aesthetics of my Southern childhood—is the kind of full-circle moment you don’t plan for. You grow into it.

“It’s a way to honor the enduring legacy of gardens that have nurtured generations,
inviting us to slow down and savor each moment as a timeless connection
between our history and our everyday lives. They’re rooted in memory.”

Want to grow your own memory?

If your garden dreams feel less like Pinterest and more like a journal entry—if you want your lilacs to smell like your grandmother’s front steps and your bench to face the sunset your child will remember—I’d be honored to design it with you.

This is what we do.

Welcome to nostalgia gardening. Or as I call it: home.