On a particular Tuesday morning in August, two groups at McClendon Center’s Day Program connected their mental health with nature through a hands-on horticulture therapy session. A pop-up plant space had transformed the room: a wire rack displayed a variety of greenery, and three tables held more than 20 potted plants.
Group A, composed of clients whose mental health challenges impact their cognitive abilities, focused on orienting themselves to the present—connecting with time and place using the plants.
The session began with horticulture therapist Kaifa Anderson-Hall gently guiding the group:
“The plants are so thirsty. You’ll need to walk around and water them. Brown leaves are a sign they’re not getting enough water,” she said as she carefully pruned some herself. “Plants need to stay hydrated just like we do—especially this time of year.”
With focus and care, clients took turns watering the plants. Kaifa affirmed their efforts with, “The plants are saying thank you.” Each plant was labeled with its name, date planted, height, and number of leaves—adding both structure and mindfulness to the session.
“Now that our plants are happy, let’s make some connections to the new month—August,” Kaifa continued. “What do we do differently with our plants in the summer?”
Clients reviewed their “Hello August” worksheet, noting seasonal changes and engaging their senses. Before the group fully dove in, Sam, a client, entered excitedly with handcrafted pots adorned with colorful gems—intended to hold plants sold at the upcoming Art of Transformation fundraiser. Kaifa explained that Sam is not only a gifted artist but also the “grandfather” of the original McClendon Center spider plant. His contributions—propagated pups from that plant—symbolize the full-circle healing found through horticulture therapy.
The group continued with a true/false question: “August is the last full month of summer.” Then: “Which flowers bloom in August—tulips or sunflowers?”
“Tulips are for spring,” Kaifa explained, showing a picture. “Sunflowers are what we’re seeing now. Some grow as tall as we are. I’ll bring some in for you to see.”
Next came a discussion on August fruits: Which ones are most eaten—bananas, strawberries, apples, watermelon, or peaches? Ms. R chose watermelon, her face lighting up as she recalled her father buying them in the summer.
“We used to tear them up,” she laughed, evoking memories that grounded her in time and place.
Kaifa shared a brief history of the watermelon—first cultivated in the wild of Africa, even depicted in Egyptian tombs—drawing historical and cultural connection to the experience.
The conversation shifted to favorite August activities: cookouts, the beach, gardening, concerts. Rajon exclaimed, “The beach! We used to go to Rehoboth.” Most picked cookouts, citing BBQ chicken and family gatherings as highlights.
Kaifa noted the National Arboretum, just a few miles from the Center, as a space filled with trees, flowers, and music—showing how plant therapy can expand from classroom to real-world exploration.
To close the session, clients celebrated notable August birthdays. Michael Jackson’s “Man in the Mirror” played as they colored their worksheets. Janice, the only client in Group A with an individual plant, stayed afterward to add fresh soil.
As Group B arrived, each client reached for their own plant. What stood out was the deep sense of nurture and care they expressed—plants reflecting their own emotional landscapes.
Mohammad lit up as he checked on his Pothos plant, which had grown to 72 leaves and produced multiple cuttings. He had once hoped to bring the plant home to his group residence for autonomy, but when that wasn’t permitted, he brought it back to the day program.
“Where’s the Peace Lily?” he asked.
Kaifa brought it forward.
“Your spirit knew this plant needed you,” she told him. “It’s been two weeks since watering, and the yellow leaves are telling us she’s thirsty.”
Using pronouns for the plants fostered a sense of compassion and relationship.
“Plants lose leaves and grow new ones. That’s their cycle,” she reminded the group. “We shouldn’t be devastated—we grow through it.”
Ms. A shared that her once-bare stem plant, propped up with a bobby pin, had finally sprouted leaves.
“When we experiment, we open ourselves to growth,” Kaifa reflected. “Sometimes, holding on just a bit longer lets the plant—and us—show resilience.”
A client then asked about seeing roots grow in clear pots, sparking a lesson on hydroponics—growing plants in water.
“Root systems are fascinating!” Kaifa said, explaining how some hydroponic systems use fish tank waste as fertilizer.
The analogy came full circle:
“Our ‘roots’ are the people and places we come from. If our roots aren’t healthy—if they’re blocked or cut off—we can begin to decline. Roots sustain us, even when we can’t see them.”
The lesson’s central theme was clear:
Water. Prune. Donate cuttings. Propagate for new growth. Allow others to adopt and nurture.
It’s a practice in self-care and community—a healing process rooted in nature, supported by compassionate programming, and made possible through the generosity of partners who believe in mental health that blooms.
