Learn to protect your time, your peace, and your growth.

You know that feeling, right? I get it all the time. You’re just standing there, maybe at your own kitchen window like I am, with a warm mug in your hands, and your eyes just… land. They rest on something so everyday you’ve stopped seeing it. For me, it’s the old fence around my back garden.

It’s just… there. Wooden, turned a soft grey by years of sun and rain, quietly doing its job. For the longest time, I never really thought about it. It was just part of the view. A simple line between my yard and everything else. I built it for a practical reason: to keep the rabbits from eating all my lettuce. When it looked a little worn, I’d make a note to fix it, but life would get busy. It was background noise.

Then, last summer, a big storm came through. It was loud and messy. The next morning, I saw a whole piece of the fence knocked down. The posts were leaning and the boards were on the grass. So I did what you do. I got my tools and went outside to fix it.

I spent the whole afternoon out there. But I wasn’t just hammering nails back in. As I worked, my hands on the rough, wet wood, I started to really see it. I saw how this simple line made a space feel like mine. Inside the fence was my garden. Outside was everything else.

And that’s when the thought hit me. It was so clear. This isn’t just a fence around some plants. This is a picture of my whole life.

We all have fences. I really believe that. You have them. I have them. We build them every day, without even thinking. We build them when we say “yes” to one thing and “no” to another. We build them by who we spend time with and what we pay attention to.

Some of these fences are good. They protect the soft, growing parts of us—our peace, our time with family, our quiet dreams. But as I stood back and looked at my repaired fence, I wondered about the other ones. The fences we build without meaning to. Are some of them just blocking out good things? Are they keeping out kindness, or new ideas, or rest, like a wall that hides the sun?

This made me stop and think. What about your fences? What lines have you drawn in your life? Are they helping you? Are they keeping your “garden” safe and healthy? Or are you just fixing them over and over because they’ve always been there, without asking if you still need them?

I think this is something we should figure out together. This isn’t about hiding from the world. It’s about building good, strong fences with a welcome gate—fences that keep the good stuff in and let the good stuff through.

1. The “Time” Fence

Look at the fence around that land. What does it look like? For a long time, my fence was very low. It was just a few short sticks in the ground. It looked nice, but it did nothing. Anything could wander right in.

And things did wander in. All the time. A text message would pop up—a little rabbit hopping in to nibble on my attention. An email would ding—a deer strolling through, trampling my thoughts. Someone would ask for “just a minute,” and there went an hour. My day was full of these visitors. They weren’t bad. They didn’t mean to cause trouble. But at the end of the day, my garden was a mess. I felt busy, but nothing was really growing. I was tired, but I had little to show for it.

I finally understood: if I don’t guard my time, no one else will. Everyone needs a piece of it. Your boss, your family, your friends, your phone—they all want some of your soil. And they will take it, unless you put up a fence.

So, I built a better Time Fence. Here is how I did it. Maybe it will work for you, too.

First, I made “Quiet Growing” blocks. I looked at my week and found the hours when I do my best work. For me, that’s the morning. I told myself: “From 9 to 11, I am gardening. The gate is closed.” I put it on my calendar. I told my family. I turned off my phone notifications. For those two hours, I am not just “busy.” I am gone. I am tending to my most important tasks. This is not being rude. It is being necessary. You have to protect the time that makes your life work.

Second, I learned to use a “Not Now, But Later” gate. Saying “no” is hard. It feels mean. So I found a kinder way. When a new task or request pops up, I don’t just say no. I guide it to the gate. I say, “I can’t start that right now, but I can look at it after lunch.” Or, “Let’s talk about that at our 2 o’clock meeting.” This helps us both. It keeps my focus safe right now, and it shows the other person they are important, just not right this minute.

Finally, I put a lock on the evening gate. My garden needs to rest. The sun goes down, and the plants stop working for the day. My mind needs the same thing. So every night, I lock the gate. For me, this means I stop checking work email after 7 PM. I close my laptop. I might even leave my phone in another room. This time is for rest, for my family, for a book, for quiet. You need this, too. If you never let your soil rest, it will become dry and nothing will grow.

Building a Time Fence is not about being selfish. It is about being smart. It is about being a good gardener for your own life. When you have a good fence, you can say a real “yes” to the important things, because you haven’t wasted your day on every little thing that walked by.

We all struggle with this. But we can all learn to guard our time better. Start small. Put up one strong post tomorrow. See how it feels to protect a single, quiet hour. You might be surprised by what begins to grow.

2. The “Relationships” Fence

Think of the people in your life as the plants in your garden. This fence is invisible, but it might be the most important one you have. It’s the fence that decides who gets to be close to you, who shares your space, and who gets your energy.

For a long time, I thought being a good person meant having an open gate. I thought I had to let everyone in. If someone wanted to walk into my life, I said, “Come on in!” My garden was crowded. It was full of noise and leaves and movement. But after a while, I felt tired. I looked around and noticed something strange. Some of my plants were strong and bright. But others were yellow, leaning over, not doing well at all.

I learned this is because not all plants grow well together. In a real garden, some plants are friends. They help each other. Like basil and tomato—they just go well together. The basil makes the tomato taste better. Other plants are enemies. They fight for the same food and water. One will always win, and the other will get weak.

We have the same thing with people. Some people in your life are like basil to your tomato. They make you better. You feel happier and stronger when you are with them. Other people might be like a big, thirsty plant that takes all the water. You feel drained after talking to them. You have given them your sunshine, and they have given you nothing back.

So, how do we build a good fence here? It’s not about being mean or lonely. It’s about being a smart gardener. It’s about choosing companion plants.

First, you need to find your basil. Ask yourself this simple question: “Who are my favorite people to be with?” Not the most popular or exciting people, but the ones who make you feel calm and happy. The ones who listen. The ones who are happy for you when good things happen. I had to make a list. These are my companion plants. Once I knew who they were, I made more room for them. I called them more. I made sure they had a good spot in my garden.

Second, learn to deal with the thirsty plants. These are not bad people. But they need a lot from you. They are always in trouble, always talking, always taking your energy. You don't have to cut them down. But you can move them to a smaller pot. See them less often. Talk for a shorter time. Be kind, but protect your water. I had to learn it’s okay to say, “I can only talk for ten minutes.” It’s okay to not solve all their problems. Your garden has to survive, too.

Finally, leave a part of your fence open. Let some wildflowers in. We all need surprises. Maybe it’s a new person at work, a neighbor you’ve never talked to, or someone you meet by chance. Say hello. Be open. Sometimes the most beautiful flower is the one you didn’t plan for.

A good Relationships Fence means you feel safe and happy in your own garden. It means you have people who help you grow, and you have gentle ways to care for the ones who take a lot. It means your “yes” is powerful, because you don’t say it to everyone.

I had to learn that a small, healthy garden is better than a big, dying one. You might need to learn this too. We are all growing, and we all need good companions. Look around your garden today. Who is your basil? Who is drinking too much water? Make a little change. Your heart will thank you for it.

3. The “Information” Fence

Think of your mind like the sky above your garden. Every day, all sorts of weather falls from that sky. Gentle rain is good. It helps things grow. But what if other things fell, too? What if sometimes it was hail, or sticky syrup, or even something that burned the leaves? That’s what our world is like now. The news, social media, alerts, videos, worries, and other people’s loud opinions—they all just fall on us, all day long. It’s a confusing storm, and it lands right on the soil of your thoughts.

I used to stand out in this storm all the time. I’d wake up and check the news—a cold rain of fear. I’d scroll on my phone—a hailstorm of comparing my life to others. I’d watch too much TV—a wind of anger and noise. By the middle of the day, my mind felt flooded. My own quiet thoughts were washed away. I was trying to grow a calm garden in the middle of a hurricane.

You might feel this too. That foggy head after too much screen time. That low worry in your stomach after reading the news. We are all trying to grow our gardens in very noisy, stormy weather.

So, I had to build a better fence. I had to put up a roof with a good filter. I had to learn to control my own weather. Here is how I did it.

First, I built a “News Drainpipe.” I realized I didn’t need the whole storm inside my head. I just needed to know if I should wear a coat. So, I made a rule. I pick one good news website. I look at it only one time each day, for ten minutes. That’s it. This tells me what I need to know. It keeps the flood of scary stories and bad feelings from drowning my garden. I know what’s happening, but I don’t live in the middle of the storm.

Second, I started to fix my “Social Media Soil.” Social media is like a big, shared backyard. Some of it is nice. You see pretty flowers from friends. You get good ideas. But a lot of it is just trash. Old junk that makes the soil sick. I had to clean up my space. I looked at every person and page I followed. I asked myself a question, and you should too: “Does this make my mind feel better or worse?” Does it teach me? Inspire me? Or does it make me feel jealous, mad, or just empty? If it made me feel bad, I hit “unfollow” or “mute.” We have to remember: our attention is precious soil. We can’t let everyone throw their garbage into it.

Finally, I made time for “Planted Sunshine.” If you only keep out the bad weather, your garden is safe, but it might be dark. You need light to grow. So, I plant light on purpose. I choose what goes into my mind. I listen to a happy podcast instead of angry talk radio. I read a book before bed instead of scrolling. I talk about fun ideas with a friend. You have to be the sun for your own thoughts. You have to feed your mind with good, warm, happy things.

Putting up an Information Fence is like giving your garden a safe greenhouse. You are saying, “I decide what kind of weather grows my plants.” We can’t stop the world’s storms. But we can build a shelter.

I can tell you, it changes everything. When you filter the weather, your mind stops feeling flooded. Your own thoughts can grow strong and clear. You can have a quiet garden, even when the world outside is loud.

4. The “Expectations” Fence

You can’t really see this one. But you can feel it, all the time. It’s the fence made of expectations. We didn’t build this one all at once. It was built for us, piece by piece, over many years.

Some pieces were given to us by our families. They said, “This is what a good life looks like.” Other pieces were put up by the world around us, shouting, “This is success! This is beauty!” And the strongest pieces? I built those myself. I used the wood of my own worry. Thoughts like: “I should have more by now.” “My garden should look like theirs.” “Why can’t I grow that?”

For a long time, I lived inside this quiet cage. I would look at my neighbor’s perfect, green lawn and feel bad about my clover. I would see a picture of a stunning flower garden online and think my daisies were boring. I would find one weed and feel like I had failed. I was always comparing. I was never just enjoying my own space. The fence wasn't keeping anything out. It was keeping me locked in a small room of “not good enough.”

You might know this cage. It’s the voice that says your work isn’t important enough, your home isn’t nice enough, your life isn’t exciting enough compared to someone else’s. We all hear that voice sometimes.

Taking down this fence is slow work. You don’t break it down with anger. You take it apart with gentle questions. You have to put up a new sign that says: “My Garden. My Rules.” Here is how I started.

First, I had to decide what MY harvest is. I sat quietly and asked myself one question: “What do I actually want from my life?” Not what my parents want. Not what my friends have. What do I want? Is a good life having a calm heart? Is it having time for long walks? Is it doing work that feels helpful? I had to find my own answer. For me, it was peace. It was feeling quiet and happy on an ordinary Tuesday. When I knew that, the fancy gardens in magazines didn’t matter anymore. They were growing for a photo. I was growing for my peace.

Second, I learned to love the imperfect things. The carrot that grows funny and crooked? It has character. The project that didn’t make money but made someone smile? That is real success. The quiet morning with a good cup of coffee? That is a perfect bloom. We have to see the beauty in the things that are odd, or small, or quiet. I started to write down little wins. “Made my own soup today.” “Laughed hard with my sister.” This helped my eyes see the good that was already there.

Finally, I changed how I look over the fence. It’s normal to see what other people have. The problem is when we use it to feel bad. Now, when I see someone’s beautiful garden, I don’t think, “Mine is worse.” I get curious. I think, “How did they do that?” or “I like that color—maybe I’ll try a little bit of that.” You can use comparison for ideas, not for shame. You can admire without needing to copy.

This Expectations Fence is there to protect your own happiness. I had to learn that a life spent pleasing others is a tired life. A life that pleases you is a peaceful life. You can choose which one you build.

We are all learning to ignore the loud “should” and listen to the quiet “want.” What is a good life for YOU? What does YOUR perfect garden look like? When that invisible fence comes down, the sun that shines in is your own. And in your own sunlight, everything grows just right.

5. The “Self” Fence

We’ve come to the last fence, and it’s the most important one. We’ve fixed the fence around our time and our people. We’ve put up a roof to filter the news and noise. We’ve started to take down the fence of what we “should” be. Now, we need to look at the fence that goes right around you. Not what you do, but who you are. Your quiet center. The place where your feelings live, and your peace grows.

For most of my life, I left this place completely open. I acted like my inner garden was a town square. I thought being good meant letting everyone in. Other people’s problems, their bad moods, their demands—they all just walked right in. They left messes. They picked my flowers. They made all the noise. I was so busy being a good host to everyone else that I forgot I lived there, too. I was running a free hotel in my own soul, and I was getting very, very tired.

You might know this feeling. The deep weariness that a good night’s sleep doesn’t fix. The feeling that you’ve listened to everyone but yourself. The slow burn of anger when you realize your own needs are always at the bottom of the list. We are told to be kind and open. But without a fence, we end up with nothing left for ourselves.

Building a fence around your Self is not mean. It is necessary. It is the most important kind of care. It is learning how to put a lock on your own gate. Here’s how I started to build mine.

First, I learned that “No” is a good word. For years, I thought “no” was a bad word. I thought it was unkind. So I always said “yes,” or I gave a long, shaky excuse. All that did was tell people they could keep asking. I had to practice. I started with small things. “No, I can’t join that call.” “No, I won’t be able to help with that.” I found out something amazing. A calm “no” doesn’t hurt people. It helps you. It saves your energy. It tells your own heart, “What I need matters, too.”

Second, I stopped treating my own needs like a prize. I used to think I had to earn my rest. I’d tell myself, “When the work is done, I can relax.” But the work is never done. So I never rested. You have to change this. Your needs are not a reward. They are the fuel. Things like sleep, quiet time, a walk, a hobby—these are not extras. They are the main event. I began to put them in my calendar first, before anything else. An hour to read. A night with no plans. I made appointments with myself, and I kept them.

Finally, I got good at using the “Do Not Disturb” sign. This is a real thing and a feeling. It is closing your door for five minutes of quiet. It is turning your phone off for dinner. It is telling your family, “I need a little time alone.” It is saying, “I am here, tending to my own heart.” We need to do this. We cannot be good for others if we are empty ourselves. A garden needs some time with no visitors, just sun and quiet, to grow.

This Self Fence is not about being alone forever. It’s about having a home inside yourself. A place where you can go to rest, to think, to just be. A place with a lock, so you can choose who comes in.

I had to learn that without this fence, I was always lost in other people’s business. With it, I finally came home to myself. You can build this fence. You are the only one who can make the lock and keep the key.

We are all learning this. It is okay to sometimes shut the gate, hang the sign, and just be in your own garden. When you do, you will grow stronger, clearer, and more peaceful. And from that peaceful place, you can truly be there for the people you love.

Looking Back on the Walk

We’ve taken a long walk together. We started at my kitchen window, looking at my old garden fence, and we’ve walked all the way around the idea of our lives. I began this just thinking about my own yard, but you probably saw parts of your life in these words too. We have been on this path together.

Here is what I hope you remember: This was never about building walls. Walls are for hiding. They are made of fear. What we talked about is different. We talked about building good, strong fences. Fences with a gate. Fences made with love for what is growing inside.

Let’s remember the five fences we looked at.

We fixed the Time Fence. Your time is like soil. You have to protect it so good things can grow there.

We looked at the Relationships Fence. Some people are like helpful herbs, and some are like weeds. It’s okay to choose who gets space in your garden.

We built the Information Fence. We learned to put up a roof to block the bad weather of too much news and noise, and to let in the good light.

We worked on the Expectations Fence. You learned to take down the invisible fence of “should” and build your own sign that says, “My Garden, My Rules.”

Finally, we made the Self Fence. I learned to put a lock on my own gate, so I have a quiet place inside just for me.

So, what do you do now? You don’t have to do everything at once. I didn’t. Start small. Start with just one thing.

Look at your life. Which part feels the most tired? The most noisy? The most crowded? Start there. Fix just one part of that fence.

Maybe you will guard one quiet hour this week. Maybe you will say one kind “no.” Maybe you will unfollow one account that makes you feel bad. Maybe you will forgive yourself for one thing you “should” have done. Maybe you will spend one evening just for you, with the gate locked.

Put just one new, strong post in the ground. That is how you start. That one post proves something important: You are the gardener here. This is your plot.

We are all gardeners. Our work is never really finished. Storms will come and shake our fences. Seasons will change, and we will want to move a fence to make more room. This is okay. This is part of the growing.

My old fence looks the same, but to me, it is completely new. It reminds me to protect my peace and to leave the gate open for good things. My garden is not perfect, but it is mine, and it is alive.

Your garden is waiting for you. It doesn’t need you to be perfect. It just needs you to show up with your gentle hands. What will you plant in the space you protect? What good things will you let in?

We all have this work to do. But it helps to know we are not doing it alone.

So, here is my hope for you. May your fences be strong. May your gate open easily for joy and friendship. And may you always remember—you belong inside, resting in your own garden, watching your own life grow.

Now, the real sun is out. My garden is calling. For a little while, my gate is closed, so I can do the quiet work of growing.

I hope you find a moment today to do the same.