I Accidentally Became a British Lord's Gardener - Now I Help Homes Come Alive

At twenty-two, I accidentally became a British Lord's gardener. The only problem was...I wasn't actually a gardener. I wanted the job because I’d been backpacking through Europe for 10 months, and I was ready to stop for a while. I picked up a Time Out magazine and searched through the job postings. I found an ad for a live-in gardener position with an apartment included in London's Chelsea neighborhood. It seemed too good to be true, but the ad intrigued me, and I called the number to learn more. A woman answered the phone. She gave me the address and invited me to come by. 

I passed through a large vestibule covered in ivy and a few dozen baskets of daffodils mounted on the walls to get to the doorbell. A plump Jamaican woman introduced herself as Rosa the housekeeper. She invited me in, handed me a copy of British Vogue from the coffee table, flipped open to a page with photos of a roof-top garden and an article about it. She said they were looking for a girl to move in and take care of the garden on the roof.

I remember thinking, I could do this. I loved plants. The year before, I'd asked for houseplants for my birthday and ended up with so many I could barely see across my bedroom. So, I did what any twenty-two-year-old with more confidence than experience would do. I said yes first and figured it out later.

I moved in and started working. In the mornings, I woke up early, walked up the narrow winding staircase at the back of my apartment and out into the garden. I began my days watering potted plants, one section at a time. I made my way through the various walkways, picking deadheads off the Dahlias, and swapping cracked terracotta pots for new ones. In the greenhouse, I repotted the seedlings and found a special place for them in the main garden whenever they were ready.  

Some mornings I drove an old Honda to the flower market, where I bought fresh purple pansies and yellow tulips and daffodils that came right off the ferries from Holland. I would bring them back to the greenhouse, pot them in new soil, and find a place for them. In May I went to the Chelse Flower Show and saw the most amazing varieties of orchids, Japanese ikebana arrangements, a royal blue Moroccan display with a tiny, built-in waterfall, and rows of vibrant pink lupins. I had a blast.

Then I came home and went to grad school and started a career. I spent the next twenty years as a nonprofit consultant, helping organizations serving people with Parkinson's disease, autism, Down syndrome, refugees and immigrants, women and girls around the world, and survivors of human trafficking. Somewhere between fundraising deadlines, and the board meetings, I realized I'd become very good at helping everyone else solve problems. But somewhere along the way, I’d quietly put my own life on the backburner. I got tired. Really tired. I needed a serios reboot.

One afternoon, I found myself staring at the giant leaves of the Monstera deliciosa in my living room. It was thriving. I wasn’t. I wanted my life to come back to life. But how? I wasn’t sure, so I went out and bought a few plants. Then a few more for the patio, and I started to daydream about starting a plant shop. Could I make it work? 

Maybe. I bought a book, Not Another Indoor Jungle. Then I watched Summer Rayne Oaks talking about plants on YouTube, for what seemed like a hundred hours. Which naturally led to buying more plants; a Red Siam Aglaonema, a Lady Valentine, and a creamy Ficus Tineke. Then I bought books on propagating succulents, which naturally led to more plant YouTube channels...and more plants. Then more books.

Then another dozen hours listening to Wild Fern talk about Anthuriums.

So naturally, I bought my first Anthurium, a Luxurians x Radicans. Then I found Plant and Style with Peachy, and naturally, I bought a Hoya, plus sixteen more. I went to PlantCon International in Dallas. I made friends with a few plant influencers, and I gifted my new friends. After filling my home—and my life—with plants, I built the shop I always wanted.

Looking back, I realized this wasn't the first time I'd talked my way into a life I wasn't entirely qualified for.

Somewhere along the way, I noticed I wasn't collecting plants anymore. I was collecting living works of art. Plants soften a room. They quiet your mind. They invite you to slow down. Living things reconnect us with the natural world in a way that's surprisingly easy to forget.

That's when I realized the best homes aren't the ones with the most things.

They're the ones with the most life. 

That's why I started House of Agave.  

I believe the best works of art are still growing. 

Because sometimes one beautiful plant changes everything.