Why Choose Horticulture as a Career?
Why would you choose horticulture as a career?
Particularly gardening.
You would have to be nuts, right?
It’s physically demanding. Every day involves lifting, bending, kneeling for long periods, stretching, hauling wet compost bags, rolls of turf, heavy plant pots and more. It’s dirty work. You never know what you’re going to dig up, or what you’ll be asked to move for someone. You are expected to deal with whatever has been left out all winter, now green, slimy and mouldy.
It’s tiring, and you’re prone to injury — especially a bad back. You work in all weathers, exposed to heat, cold, wind and rain. It can be lonely if you go it alone, and if you’re self-employed it can be financially uncertain, particularly in winter. It’s certainly not a career you choose for the money.
So why have I done exactly this for the last 25 years?
I ask myself that regularly, especially when I’m cold, wet, aching or covered in mud. But the truth is simple: I wouldn’t want to do anything else. I have loved it — and still do. The positives far outweigh the negatives.
For many of us, it isn’t just a job. It’s a vocation. There is a big difference, and if you are a horticulturist, you’ll know exactly what I mean.
There are proven benefits to being out in nature, both mentally and physically. Gardening keeps you fit, even if it occasionally exhausts you. It’s brilliant exercise for cardiovascular health, strength, balance, coordination and flexibility. It’s also the best vitamin D boost you can get, which is great for bone health.
Being outdoors is a powerful mood booster. It reduces stress, anxiety and depression. Garden work is immersive — you can completely lose yourself for hours at a time. It’s also a wonderful healer during the trickier moments life throws at us. It has certainly been my saviour more than once.
Working closely with nature is grounding and calming. You notice things you otherwise wouldn’t because you’ve slowed down: tiny creatures going about their business, building nests, gathering food. It reminds you that we’re part of that world too — just bigger. You learn that gardens don’t need to be overly tidy. That leaf litter and piles of twigs matter. Sometimes, the best thing to do is leave things alone.
Nurturing plants and seeds and watching them grow brings a real sense of pride and achievement. It allows creativity and builds confidence. And if something’s planted in the wrong place? Move it. Who cares? Gardening teaches flexibility, patience and problem-solving — lessons that extend well beyond the garden gate.
As a gardener, you can make a genuine difference. Not just to individual gardens, but to the people who use them and to the wider environment. You see real results from your efforts, and you understand the impact they have. When you create a garden for a client, you’re offering them the same benefits you experience yourself. It may become their sanctuary — somewhere to retreat, to heal, or to gather with friends and family. Being part of that is deeply rewarding.
Then there’s freedom. It means different things to different people, but for me it’s the ability to take a random day off if I need to. Finishing a job and still having the afternoon to walk the dogs, sit in the garden and read, visit friends or take loved ones to appointments. Once you’ve had that kind of freedom, a rigid 9–5 is very hard to return to.
Being a gardener also means being part of a vast global community. It’s an inclusive world — anyone can be part of it in some way. From pot gardeners to obsessive plant collectors; allotment holders (a club of their own); national collection holders; lecturers, growers, shower exhibitors, breeders, designers, landscapers, seed guardians, scientists, farmers, artists, arborists, soil scientists, lawn experts, greenkeepers, landscape architects, nursery owners, propagators, rangers and florists. It’s a huge, varied and endlessly fascinating industry, whether you’re a one man/woman band or part of a larger organisation.
I was once told that when I got a “proper” job I’d have holiday pay, sick pay, a pension, a regular wage, security — maybe even a car.
Once he was firmly kicked into touch, I realised I already had a proper job. One of my own making. I studied for it. I named it. I did the work with my own hands and reaped the rewards. I have a car, a pension and holidays. I’ve stayed fit and healthy, mentally as well as physically. I’ve worked on exciting and meaningful projects. I’m surrounded by like-minded people who support each other, share work and help one another survive. I have wonderful customers I’m genuinely fond of.
And now there’s another year ahead — full of possibility, uncertainty and discovery.
This path isn’t easy. But neither is working 9–5 for someone else. I still believe this is the right path for me, and I’ll continue laying it as I go, seeing where it leads.
Roll on 2026.