100 books like Emily Dickinson's Gardening Life

I’ve been recommending Brian Capon’s Botany for Gardeners to my gardening students for years. Unlike your typical botany textbook, it’s written expressly for gardeners, which means it presents all you need to know about botany if you are a gardener, not a scientist or a botany student. The presentation is clear, concise, and conversational, so it feels like learning about botany from a friend…a really smart friend! This book will either take you as far as you need to go in botany, or it will open you up to the world of botany and inspire you to learn more. 

Gardening, whether in a backyard or a hundred-acre orchard, is an audacious attempt to improve on nature, and Smith’s fascinating hybrid of biography, history, and botany brings to life the most audacious of them all. The only biography on my list, I’ve included it because, in an age where we might be forgiven for thinking it takes millions of corporate dollars and genetic engineers to produce a new plant, The Garden of Invention reminds us how one man’s singular determination, patience, and brilliance can change the world. And produce the perfect potato for McDonald’s French fries.

A self-critical and often hysterically funny account of what happens when you plant a garden to be “one with nature” and nature has other ideas. Still my favorite Pollan book (his first!), which is saying a lot. Favorite bit: his journey from “living in harmony” with a resident groundhog to an albeit ill-considered act of firebombing.

Gardening is indeed an obsession, which can drive men and women to madness and penury. It is fuelled by competition, the desire to have the latest, most exotic specimen. Andrea Wulf captures beautifully the mania for American plants which swept across English gardens in the 1700s, as the plant-hunter John Bartram of Virginia teamed up with the London merchant, Peter Collinson, to import boxes of plants and seeds into the UK. If they survived the long sea voyage, they were then nurtured by English aristocrats and their head gardeners, at vast expense, before becoming so common that few gardeners in Europe today know where they came from.

While you will learn much about the nature and management of weeds from this book, you will also find yourself painlessly learning the basics of botany-- the parts of plants, how they live, how seeds evolved, how ecosystems evolve. While she keeps weeds at bay, Stein favors a garden, as do I, in which the desirable plants may self-sow a bit. It is a gardening philosophy that is current and can produce lovely, serendipitous gardens. 

Julia Henry’s third book in her Garden Squad Mysteries makes my list.

In Digging Up the Remains, Julia Henry brings readers a modern Jessica Fletcher with her character Lilly Jayne. Senior citizen Lilly is roommates with Delia, nearly forty years age difference! Somehow this works exquisitely for both of them. The rest of the characters span in age, but not in ethnicity, although there is small LGBT representation.

The theme of Digging Up the Remains is about secrets. The skeletons are in the closet so to speak.

Due to the contemporary setting this book’s way of showing the status of the journalism business is accurate. Now the world favors unsubstantiated, high-traffic live feeds of the “average” citizen hoping to get 15 minutes of fame and go viral. 

This tour de force of a book is a profound and illuminating meditation on what Orwell’s simple act of planting seven roses can mean, in terms of questions about who we are and how we spend our life. Solnit weaves together seamlessly stories of roses, nature, 20th-century revolutionary politics, literature, and people to reimagine how we might live a life with both beauty and justice. She writes with clarity, passion, and wisdom. Sprinkled throughout the book are thought-provoking reflections on a wide range of subjects: trees and their relationship to time, the fusion of avant-garde art theories and radical political ideas in Tina Modotti’s 1924 photograph Roses, Mexico; the political and cultural implications of one’s identity; the inhumane treatment of workers in the flower industry in Columbia; and what it is that we love when we love flowers, just to name a few. It’s a heady but… show more.

Dungy’s beautiful book demonstrates that the wild doesn’t have to be a pristine mountain wilderness, far removed from other people. The wild in her book is a place she creates herself by turning a suburban yard into a refuge of wild plants and critters.

As a lazy gardener, I admired the astonishing amount of labor she put into replacing rocks and lawns with beautiful blooms while battling bindweed and other undesirables. I related to her struggles with parenting and writing through the pandemic, and I appreciated her musings on colonialism and racial violence. Having read her book, I might even put more effort into my garden.

The lift-the-flap format is often aimed at the board book crowd, but not in this beautiful book. Information under its flaps acts more like visual sidebars, uncovering secrets such as what’s inside a garden shed or what the inside of an onion looks like. The book shows us the passage of seasons and the activities of a gardening sister and her little brother at different times of the year, such as planting, composting, and raking. Children and adults will both like this one.

A hands-on, child’s-eye-view of what it takes to grow your own food in which the main character, a young girl, works to prove to her parents that she is ready for the responsibility and hard work of gardening.

The author uses a combination of prose and diary entries to tell this story of perseverance, entrepreneurship, and agriculture—all big words described in a very child-friendly way. But it’s the illustrations that sell this book. I love the bright, scrapbook style. They add tons of humor and kid appeal while perfectly complimenting the writing.

I imagine kiddos spending hours pouring over the art's details, and using the illustrations as inspiration to create their own writing notebooks.