From Grief to Garden: How One Apartment Garden Became a Community Gift

Gardens have a way of healing, even in the most unexpected places. This is the story of a garden born from loss, transplanted from a beloved mother's yard to an apartment complex in Jacksonville, Florida—and how it grew into a source of joy for an entire community.

The Origin: A Mother's Garden

Several years ago, I planted a garden for my mother, Nancy Asbell, who lived with lupus. After aggressive steroid treatments fractured her spine, she used a motorized wheelchair. I hoped a garden visible from her porch would bring comfort.

Despite relentless pain, financial strain, and the looming loss of her home, my mother remained remarkably resilient. She found miracles in everyday nature—windswept leaves, encounters with neighbors—and used her experience to advocate for others with lupus. Her spirit was infectious.

Transplanting Hope

When the bank threatened foreclosure, I asked my property manager if I could temporarily relocate my mother's garden to the apartment complex. She agreed. After my mother passed away just after her 50th birthday, moving the garden became my way of sharing her light with others—and finding purpose in grief.

Digging up plants and ferrying them across the St. Johns River gave me continuity when I needed it most. I justified the effort as a gift to neighbors, but truthfully, it saved me.

Building the Garden: Before & After

The site was a barren patch of grass and mulch outside the laundry room, made challenging by a dense network of arborvitae (Platycladus orientalis) roots that left the soil bone-dry.

I rescued treasured plants from my mother's garden and supplemented with new purchases. To brighten the narrow pathway, I chose chartreuse and lime-green foliage.

The Dry-Shade Solution

Under the arborvitae, I planted bromeliads (Neoregelia, Aechmea, Billbergia hybrids, zones 8b–11), which absorb water through their central cups rather than roots. Along the protected wall, I added tender tropicals like reed stem orchid (Epidendrum radicans, zones 9b–11) that thrive with minimal water.

Established lilyturf (Liriope 'Evergreen Giant', zones 6–11) now provides a soft backdrop for rotating bromeliad displays.

Plant Palette Highlights

In the dry shade: Tillandsia spp. (zones 10–11), Neoregelia cruenta (zones 9b–11), Neoregelia 'Fireball' (zones 9b–11), plus container-grown coleus (Solenostemon hybrid) and variegated shell ginger (Alpinia zerumbet 'Variegata', zones 9–11). Containers prevent the arborvitae roots from stealing water.

The structural backbone: ice cream banana (Musa 'Blue Java', zones 8b–11), radicalis palms (Chamaedorea radicalis, zones 8b–11), and lady palm (Rhapis excelsa, zones 8b–11). The complex straddles zones 8b/9, allowing a resort-like feel.

One Year Later: A Transformation

The tiny banana now towers over the laundry room with multiple suckers. Ti plants (Cordyline fruticosa 'Red Sister', zones 9–11) have grown tall in their microclimate, and ornamental sweet potato vine (Ipomoea batatas 'Marguerite', zones 9–11) carpets the ground in bright green.

The vine is enthusiastic—I prune it weekly and plan to replace it with a less aggressive ground cover.

Why It Works: Design Principles

• Foliage over flowers: Low-maintenance plants with year-round foliage interest reduce deadheading.
• Color continuity: A palette of pink, white, and lime green unifies diverse plants without clutter.
• Vertical layers: Plants of varying heights make the narrow space feel larger.
• Dormancy planning: Tropical bulbs (caladiums, blood lily, Siam tulip) go dormant in winter; replaced by winter annuals and vegetables like sweet peas.

Community Impact

Initial skepticism about vandalism proved unfounded. Apart from a few missing bromeliads early on, neighbors protect the garden. When landscapers accidentally damaged plants, residents intervened.

Weekly, someone thanks me or asks about a new bloom. Children discover toads, tree frogs, and garter snakes—tiny moments of wonder that confirm the garden's purpose.

The corrugated tin shed became an architectural feature with bold neon plantings. Layers of foliage create depth in a narrow space.

Low-Maintenance Reality

I rarely tend the garden beyond occasional pruning. Plants were chosen for independence, knowing I wouldn't stay forever. The garden thrives on neglect—exactly as intended.

You can't change the world by planting a garden, but you can make people a little happier. And happy people make the world better.