Autism … – The Resilient Gardener

Nature’s Gift …

Sensory gardens are carefully designed outdoor spaces that stimulate the five basic senses: sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste. For our son with multiple and complex disabilities, the garden is not just a pleasant environment, but an essential space for therapy, inclusion, and his emotional well-being. Ours too.

Traditional public spaces often present physical or sensory barriers. In contrast, the sensory garden I have created offers a safe, accessible sanctuary. Wide, flat paths accommodate his wheelchair, while raised beds bring plants to a comfortable height for him to reach. A thoughtful design allows him, even with physical and visual impairments, to interact with nature independently, fostering a vital sense of autonomy.

The therapeutic benefits of the garden are profound. Living with autism and sensory processing disorders, the natural world provides a controlled environment to process stimuli. Soft textures, like lamb’s ear leaves, and calming sounds, like rustling leaves and grasses or trickling water, help reduce his anxiety and prevent sensory overload. Conversely, vibrant flowers and strong scents like lavender or mint can gently stimulate under-reactive senses, improving focus and cognitive function.

Furthermore, our sensory garden encourages his active engagement and physical rehabilitation. Touching different surfaces improves his fine motor skills, while navigating the paths enhances spatial awareness and balance. Tasting safe, homegrown herbs like rosemary or basil adds an immersive layer to the experience, triggering essential positive memories and encouraging mindfulness.

Ultimately, a sensory garden bridges the gap between our son, who lives with disabilities and nature’s healing power. It transforms a simple outdoor experience into an inclusive, multi-sensory journey that restores calm, eases his intense pain, builds confidence, and enhances his overall quality of life.

Read more about our son’s journey, the challenges he faces and how my wife and I support him through every day.

All Hallows Eve …

All Hallows eve, an exciting time for many. Children will dress up, as will their parents in costumes that incite a little fear in those who see them. Knocking upon the doors of neighbours and daringly calling out, “Trick or Treat” to the people opening the door. Of course, always hoping for a treat to be offered.

There are those who are unable to embrace these festivities. Like my son, with severe autism among his many health conditions, the sound of an unexpected knock on the front door injects fear in him. It is unexpected and unprepared for. A person standing on the threshold looking like those evil entities which have risen from their graves, is impossible for him to accept as a fun encounter.

Anxiety, confusion, and blind terror all consume him. A meltdown will surely follow and takes some skill and patience to help him recover from it.

I have written about this experience and other examples of raising a child with additional needs in my book, Marc’s Garden.

It has started …

Many of you will have followed my story and that of my family, particularly my son. Living with severe autism, among other conditions, a strict routine is vital for him.

That routine is not simply doing the same thing, but it also stretches to include, environmental decoration, layout and even seasonal changes.

Maybe once, we would have displayed our Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, creating that magical change to our environment in readiness and welcome for the arrival of Santa through the night. But our son finds this sudden change so distressing. His mind cannot process something like that easily. We learned over the years that the reason our son was withdrawn and unhappy on Christmas day (and indeed other days of celebration) was due to his inability to accept changes and surprises.

We learned to introduce the changes gradually and subtly, explaining what we are doing all the time in order to help him, if not fully understand, but to accept the changes without his usual distress.

Christmas starts in September for us with the introduction of something new to add to our eclectic mix. This year, the longhorn on a gift carrying sleigh worked a treat.

Another opportunity to smile 🙂

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Sometimes, magic happens …

The garden is a sanctuary for me. It always offers something that requires attention, drawing my mind away from a crisis. It provides aspects I can use to help Marc overcome his rage and pain.

Watching your son be overwhelmed by the ferocity of a seizure is heartbreaking. If only I could reach into his mind and take it out, putting it in my own to endure instead of him. All I can do is stand in the garden and scream into the wind and rain, letting them wash away my tears of frustration and anger caused by my feeling of helplessness.

And yet, when his pain passes, it is replaced by a rage so intense that his self-awareness recalls what has just happened. Pleading with me to make it stop, but not understanding why I cannot. The garden waits patiently for me to realise what it has quietly delivered, and only it knows the secret and magic of what it has given.

In this instance, a single rose bloom—a colour that Marc finds soothing, putting him at ease as his tensions fade away. This rose was one he and I propagated together, cutting the stem and placing it in a pot to root. We waited two or more years, and honestly, we had forgotten about it, keeping it in its pot and pushing it to the back of our neglected garden—two years, maybe three, with nothing happening. Then, on this day when his pain was so intense and there was nowhere else to turn, his keen eyes noticed the colour. His mind sharpened, his tears, and mine, dried up, and curiosity took hold of his heart.

Bringing the pot forward, we looked, we touched, we breathed in the fragrance.

We smiled!

Promotion …

As the week has proved difficult, with Marc’s seizures keeping him awake each night, we have reached the end of the week, weary, and looking for that little something to brighten our day.

Coincidentally, I came across this post by my publisher, promoting my book, which went some way to so just that.

It is by no means an international best seller (not yet anyway!) but in sharing our journey, a number of people have shown interest, and in a story that transcends geographic boundaries as the story resonates.

I never thought that so many people would embrace our story when I started to post here, and I am deeply grateful to everyone who has viewed, followed and interacted with me along the way. Your friendship, encouragement and support, particularly through those dark days, of which there have been many, have been treasured by myself and us all.

Thank you so much :-))

Scared …

Standing while a loved one shouts and screams at you, occasionally lashing out and hitting you. Such a force of rage, brewed up in an instant, and you are the target for all that venom.

What do you do?

You try to offer a word of defence or challenge their point of view, and the effect is like pouring water on a fire of oil. The rage erupts into greater ferocity, eyes straining in their sockets, bloodshot from the strains of anger and hatred.

What do you do?

You try to hold the flaying arms as they continually lash out at you, but your touch is reacted to as if you have seared their arms with branding irons. The rage erupts yet further.

What do you do? …

Answer = Remain Calm …

Experience has taught me. This reaction is passing. In time, it may not even be remembered. It is not personal. It is just a reaction to a situation. I aim to understand what that situation was. It could be that a spoken word has caused confusion, and his autistic mind cannot process what that word means. Panic has therefore set in. Fight or flight has set in. It could be that a smell, or a sound, or even the sensation of touch, or taste, has given rise to a hypersensitivity overload which triggers a need to defend against.

Can you stand in the face of that outrage and aggression? Ensure that he is (s)afe and can do no harm to himself. Reduce the level of stimulation from all sources. Can you ensure you are aware that you are intervening on behalf of a terrified person who needs your help and understanding? Can you remain (c)alm in the face of this attack? Can you find a way to empathise with this person, speaking softly and understandingly? (A)ffirm that you hear what they are saying, even if you disagree. Can you understand their requirement for (r)outine and guide them towards those familiar and safe places and activities? Through the ongoing rage, can you find a way to (e)mpathise with them? Demonstrating you’re in support and not in conflict with them. Have you understood yet what triggered this rage in the first place? An understanding that will help you (d)evelop a plan to prevent it next time.

Would you be able to understand that the person in front of you with such aggression and anger is SCARED? And needs your help.

You want to hug them, but can’t, as the sensation of being held at that moment would aggravate their sensitivities. Feelings of being trapped and constrained. You want to look them in the eye, but eye contact would be seen as threatening. You must guide them from a distance and stand with them until they calm down. When they do, then you can reach out and hold them. Comforting them as you always have and demonstrating your unconditional love for them.

Do you understand the difference between a meltdown and a tantrum?

Pond in pots …

Apprehension and fear of the unknown are very real for a person living with autism. Often, they rely on strict routines and need to understand exactly what is happening or going to happen. Failure to grasp this can lead to their increased anxiety, and because of delayed processing abilities, attempting to comprehend these changes quickly—which are typical of the condition—can result in a cognitive meltdown. This meltdown may leave deeply embedded fears that resurface whenever anything similar occurs.

I learnt this lesson when I tried to include our son, Marc, in creating a pond in a pot for him to look out upon from his favourite window. I encouraged him to fill the pot with rainwater from the water butt. He eagerly grasped the watering can and filled it, covering everything and everyone else as he did!

Then I asked him to place a couple of bricks into the pot, onto which we would stand the plants. He froze. What I had not realised was that the water he had just filled now reflected the sky and the surrounding scene like a mirror, and he could not see into the pot. Filled with fear of what was now hidden from him, he would do nothing else until I placed the first brick into the water, and my doing so broke the reflection on the water, and he could once again see into the pot.

Calmed by this simple act, Marc continued to help me create his pot, happy that there were no hidden terrors. No meltdown, but an absolute lesson in understanding how autism can impact a person through everyday activities.

I have written about this example of supporting our son who has autism, among other conditions, and explain various interventions in my debut memoir, Marc’s Garden.

A Garden Safari …

As the restoration of our garden is continuing in full swing, I encouraged Marc to join me on a ‘Garden Safari’ to see what we could see.

This caterpillar caught his sharp eyes way before mine, eating its way through the leaves of the Alchemilla mollis. (Lady’s Mantle)

I am always amazed how sharp his eyes are given his peripheral blindness and virtually no sight in his right eye, but splashes of colour stand out to him and even the smallest splash attracts him.

We watched this caterpillar for a while, and then he took my camera to capture a picture.

I believe this is the Vapourer caterpillar (Orgyia antiqua) A moth and serious pest to street trees. I also understand that its hairs can be toxic, potentially causing irritation if touching the skin, so we leave it alone to go about its thing, and came inside to track it down in our books.

It’s a small thing, but it is an activity that encourages Marc outdoors and over the threshold. His world continues to be fraught with anxiety and the fear of the unknown. Little by little we are succeeding in opening his world to see more and importantly stimulating his mind. That stimulation in turn helps to calm some of those fears.

A little homebased adventure … and a smile :-))

In Marc’s Garden …

The Geranium Rozanne, is a perennial flower with such a delicate shade of blue.

Our garden has been created around such colours as this flower as a basis for our sensory approach of gardening to support our son.

Plagued with autism based anxieties and epilepsy generated pain, the blue, if I capture his limited imagination properly, can help calm his fears, and when we sit outside in the light, falling rain, I can take his mind off the pain he feels and accept the lightly falling rain on his face by encouraging him to look up into the sky with me as it falls, just as it covers this flower, so it covers our faces too.

The garden has been, and continues to be instrumental is supporting him through his complex health conditions. the blue of the geranium is a welcome sight this month as it appears in the borders and encourages our son to step over the threshold to look closer.

Marc’s Window …

So much time has passed since Marc was motivated to embark upon our ‘Marc’s Window’ project, that it may be prudent to explain it to those who are new to my posts.

Living his life with, amongst other conditions, severe autism, Marc finds comfort and safety in the routine. It’s not just essential; it’s his lifeline. Any deviation from this routine can trigger intense anxiety, leading to meltdowns. This fear of anything different is not just a preference; it’s a very real and extreme reaction.

That fear prevents him from stepping over the threshold of our home – his safe area – due to his anxiety about different scenes, environments, people and activities. A person with autism may find interacting with others difficult as social awareness has not been developed, and they become very withdrawn.

I encouraged Marc to look out of his ‘window’, and we would talk about everything we could see. The colours, the buildings in the nearby hamlet, the wildlife that came into view, and our garden. It was a world he could look upon from the safety of his room, and I could encourage him to venture outside, firstly into our garden, then in his wheelchair the short distance to the hamlet. We spoke about going a little further afield each time we did to see something new.

When Marc picked up a camera, it was a turning point. I set it up on a tripod, positioned to take portrait pictures to allow him to use the shutter button with ease – he has a paralysis to his right side – and he could look through the ‘live view’ screen to see what he was pointing the camera at. The joy he felt at seeing his pictures was palpable, and he wanted to take more. This enthusiasm not only rekindled his interest but also opened up new avenues for us to explore. Each picture he took became a basis for a conversation, encouraging more adventures and helping him recall lost memories.

With Marc’s epilepsy worsening of late, he lost interest in this and most things. With patience and a better understanding of his mind and outlook, I have encouraged him to start where it all began and take his first picture in a long time from his bedroom window, where he feels safe and sees familiar sights and activities.

Thank you for looking at his work and for sharing our son’s journey and story with us. Your support and understanding mean the world to us.