“You promised we’d have a garden,” my son said accusingly. “What’s that, then?” As we gazed out on the 90-foot wilderness, dominated by a huge and diseased apple tree, I realised he had a point. In sad circumstances, as a single parent, this was my mid-life crisis: here we were in our new home with our first garden. It had been (along with a cat) an important promise, too, because I wanted him to grow up with the same love of nature that I have.

Any money I’d saved or could borrow had to go on making the house habitable – total rewiring, plumbing, all those things. Months followed of steaming decades’ worth of brown wallpaper off, searching out cheap furniture, all those things. Finally, spring and sunshine arrived with the promise of new life.

“You did promise…” he said again, as a new generation of hardy weeds threatened to overwhelm the sort-of garden.

Trouble was, I knew as much about gardening as I did about mortgages, never having had either before. Well, I’d read about devas and nature spirits, so this was the time to test them out. Being a rational chap, I figured that we should start with a blank canvas so with humble apologies to the spirits of the weeds, and a good deal of backache, spare hours were now spent clearing the ground. The apple tree went, too, but I didn’t apologise to that since it was already dying.

Now, I may be rational but both nature and I abhor straight lines. So, the first thought was to divide the space up into separate curved areas, with soil banked up in corners to form rockeries and take away the angles. The garden was then symbolically surrounded by hedging to represent our new security. (Leylandii firs grow very fast!)

The second thought was… well, I didn’t have any second thoughts because I knew absolutely nothing about plants. What do we do when we don’t know what we’re doing? I sent out a silent plea to any spirits of nature who might be nearby, along the lines of, “I’m sorry I don’t know anything about your world, but we would really like a nice garden, please…”

The local garden centre had been taken over by a big chain and now sold more furniture and handbags than actual plants. This being mid-summer, it was full of Christmas gifts. But, wandering disconsolately in the grounds, I came across an earth angel who loved and knew everything about greenery. She was only too pleased to share her decades of wisdom with me.

Over the next year, things literally began to take shape. Buddleia grows fast and attracts butterflies, climbing roses obscure old brickwork, heathers like shady spots, perennial ground cover, and so on – even a lucky deal on new turf. Another new friend turned out to be a builder, who re-laid the paths and put in York stone edging for the borders.

By next spring, the nature spirits had got to work too, birds and wind dropping all kinds of interesting seeds in just the right places. The apple tree having gone, two new ash trees magically appeared near the far end of the plot and a new willow next door helpfully leaned herself over the fence onto my side. A small personal woodland was being created so I planted dwarf fruit trees and ferns.

One of the best things about all this was that I’d hardly spent any money! Friends gave plants, wind chimes and a small statue. On country excursions I found stones for the rockeries, and my friend-the-builder got ornamental gravel at cost price.

After about five years, things were looking good. Yet there was ‘something missing’… all the beautiful elements of nature were here, except water. On cue, another friend wanted to get rid of her garden pond (having developed a phobia of frogs); a few days later, my garden not only had its water feature but also enough spare patio slabs to build a meditation area in the woodland.

Each year or so there was a new small project: bird tables and hedgehog refuges, night lights around the water, reshaping the hedges, mirror decorations on fences to spread light, wooden arches to separate the garden into ‘mind, body and spirit’ areas… All the while, I was learning new skills, though I still can’t remember the names of plants.

You will have realised by now that this article is not about gardening. There are so many times along the spiritual path when we find ourselves stuck or lost; for all our efforts, nothing seems to be working. Relationships fail, contracts end, we have no money, friends drift away. Workshops don’t speak to us, affirmations bring no results – it’s as though we’re in a foreign country where we can’t speak the language. What do we do when we don’t know what we’re doing?

Well, we’ve signed up for this life and it’s our job to be the best we can and create something worthwhile. So, we let go of anxieties and quietly ask the universe for help: “I don’t know what to do. Please help.” Then we wait patiently, listen and look for signs, follow up every opportunity, work hard and learn new ways.

Twenty years on, my son has left home! But I spend many hours in the garden and it gives me great joy and peace of mind. Birds nest in the hedges, newts live in the pond, and every tree, shrub and plant is my friend.

Nigel Peace is the author of several spiritual books and owns the MBS publishing company Local Legend www.local-legend.co.uk