The Garden That Lets the World Rest

By Josh Singleton | Founder, The Neighborhood Garden Project

One of the most common questions we hear is, “What do you do about the bugs?” Right behind it, we usually hear, “Is this garden organic?”

I get it. These are normal questions. But behind them is something deeper—years of gardening and farming based on fear. Somewhere along the way, we were taught that anything in the garden that we didn’t plant was a problem. That every bug was a threat. And that the only solution was to get rid of it.

But here’s what I’ve learned: the bugs aren’t the enemy. Most of the time, they’re just messengers. They’re trying to tell us something we’ve never taken the time to hear.

What we inherited is a mindset that says if something shows up unexpectedly, we need to eliminate it. So we spray. And when that doesn’t work, we spray more. And the next year, the bugs come back stronger. And we spray again. Before we know it, we’re not even gardening anymore—we’re just reacting. That’s not health. That’s survival.

We’ve created a culture where the garden feels more like a battleground than a place of peace. Where the goal is to control everything instead of learn from it. But the more I’ve worked the soil, the more I see that the land isn’t trying to fight us. It’s trying to teach us.

We’ve made “organic” a label, but we’ve lost the meaning behind it. Being organic isn’t just about avoiding chemicals—it’s about paying attention. About trusting the design God already put in place. The bugs, the weeds, the wildlife—they’re all part of something bigger. They’re not interruptions. They belong here too.

So when someone asks if our garden is organic, I tell them we don’t just avoid chemicals—we watch closely. We let the bugs speak. We treat them like signs. If there’s a wave of aphids, maybe our soil’s out of balance. If hornworms show up, maybe our tomatoes are stressed. If flea beetles are everywhere, maybe we’re missing companion plants. These bugs aren’t random. They’re showing us where the system is weak or where something is missing.

An organic garden doesn’t mean you never have problems. It just means you learn from them. You stay curious. You trust the process.

That’s why we’ve got a quarter-acre pocket prairie right next to our garden. It’s wild on purpose. No mowing, no tilling. It gives shelter to the bugs we usually fear. And guess what? Most of them stay there. Because it’s better for them. We don’t need to chase them out of the garden—they already have what they need nearby.

We’ve also planted beds full of flowers, herbs, and pollinator plants. Not just because they’re pretty, but because they attract the right insects. The ones that eat pests. The ones that keep things balanced. These plants aren’t side projects—they’re part of how the system stays strong.

And when we step back and really look, we see how much is already working in our favor.

At our first garden site in Katy, a pair of mockingbirds made the garden their home. They patrol the rows every day. They chase off larger pests and eat caterpillars right off the plants. During nesting season, one bird can eat hundreds of bugs a day. We didn’t ask them to come. They just did.

Wasps hide under the leaves and hunt caterpillars too. One paper wasp nest can clear out a major pest problem without us ever needing to touch it. On the ground, toads stay tucked near the base of the beds. They eat up to 1,000 insects a day. Then at night, wolf spiders roam the soil, clearing more pests before we even see them.

And this happens all the time. Day and night. Not because we planned it perfectly, but because we made room. The mockingbirds handle the day shift. The spiders and toads take the night. The wasps stay steady. It’s not one creature saving the garden. It’s the whole system working together.

Even the animals we tend to worry about—like raccoons or opossums—play a role. They come through at night and clean up fallen fruit, compost, and leftover scraps. They keep disease from building up. And when their numbers grow too much, the owls show up. It all balances. Nothing is wasted.

What you start to realize is, the system doesn’t panic. It doesn’t overreact. Each piece knows its part. No one species carries all the weight. That’s why it works.

It’s not about perfection. It’s about cooperation.

Because the real question isn’t “How do you get rid of the bugs?” It’s “What are the bugs trying to show you?”

When we stop trying to force control and start paying attention, even the pests become part of the healing. They teach us. They push us to build healthier systems. And sometimes, they even help bring balance back faster than we could on our own.

That’s what we’re learning to trust. That creation isn’t broken—it’s trying to find its balance. We just need to stop interrupting it. Stop panicking. Stop trying to force every outcome.

Because maybe the most organic thing we can do isn’t just avoid chemicals—it’s to finally trust the design God already put in place.

And rest in it.