You Can't Command a Garden to Grow
Bryan Runion ·
Traditional leadership focuses on command and control, but true impact comes from cultivating an environment where people can thrive. What does it actually look like to lead by 'tending' rather than 'telling'?
When the Hardest Work is the Work No One Sees
I once worked for a director who led like a general marshaling troops for battle. Every morning was a briefing. We were given our marching orders: clear, precise, and absolute. The path was set, the objective defined, and our job was to execute. It was efficient, I suppose. We hit our targets. But no one ever strayed from the path, and no one ever discovered a better one. The air was thin on creativity, thick with the fear of a misstep.
Then I was part of a team where the leadership felt… almost absent. Our team leader seemed to spend most of her time having quiet one-on-ones, listening more than she talked, or just observing the flow of the room. Things didn’t just get done; they took shape. Ideas emerged from odd corners of the team, collaborations sparked over coffee, and people took ownership of problems I didn't even know we had. There were no marching orders. It felt less like a military campaign and more like a garden we were all tending together. She wasn’t a general; she was the head gardener, and she was quietly making sure we all had enough light.
Preparing the Ground
The metaphor feels right, because you can't command a garden to grow. You can’t yell at seeds to sprout. You can only create the conditions for growth. A gardener’s most crucial work happens before a single plant is in the ground—testing the soil, amending it, ensuring it has the right nutrients and drainage. Leading a team is the same. The real work isn't directing the play-by-play; it’s cultivating an environment where talented people can do their best work, often without you.
Focus on the soil, not just the seeds. It’s tempting to believe that hiring smart people is enough. But the most brilliant team in the world will wither in toxic soil. A leader’s first job is building a foundation of psychological safety. This isn't a single action, but a thousand small ones: absorbing pressure from above, taking the blame when things go sideways, and creating a culture where asking a “stupid” question or admitting a mistake is seen as a sign of engagement, not weakness.
Provide context, not just instructions. A general gives a map with a single destination marked. A gardener explains the climate, the water sources, and the kind of sun a plot gets throughout the day. When you lead by providing deep context—the 'why' behind the project, the struggles other teams are facing, the bigger company goals—you give people the tools to make their own smart decisions. You’re trusting them to navigate the terrain themselves, which is how they learn to find new and better routes.
Treat trust as a nutrient. Trust isn’t a byproduct of success; it’s a prerequisite for it. It’s the invisible nutrient that allows people to be vulnerable and take risks. You build it by being predictable in your principles but flexible in your methods. It’s built on keeping your word in small ways, showing up consistently, and demonstrating through your actions that you believe in your team’s competence and intent, even when they’re wrestling with a problem.
Tending with a Light Touch
Once the soil is rich and the seeds are sown, the temptation is to meddle. To over-water, to constantly poke and prod. But great gardeners, and great leaders alike know that much of their job is now about patient observation. It’s about noticing what’s thriving and what’s struggling, and making small, careful interventions. The work becomes quieter, more nuanced. It’s less about doing and more about seeing.
Learn to prune, not to micromanage. Sometimes a plant grows in a direction that saps its energy. A gardener doesn’t yank it out; they prune it back gently to encourage healthier growth. In a team, this looks like spotting an inefficient process and helping to simplify it, or seeing a project veering off-course and asking the right questions to redirect it. It’s about removing obstacles and distractions so the team’s energy can flow toward what’s most fruitful.
Spend more time watching than directing. A gardener can learn everything they need to know just by watching a garden over time. Who on your team is quietly good at calming frustrated colleagues? Who gravitates toward thorny, complex problems? Where are the unexpected friendships or collaborations forming? This quiet observation is data. It tells you who needs more sun, who needs more support, and who is ready to be repotted into a bigger role.
Celebrate the ecosystem, not just the prize-winning rose. In a command-and-control structure, we celebrate the hero...the person who lands the final victory. But a garden is a complex, interdependent system. The bees that pollinate and the earthworms that aerate the soil are just as vital as the most beautiful flower. The best leaders make a point of seeing and celebrating the invisible work—the person who documents their code meticulously, the colleague who always makes time to help a new hire, the quiet one who keeps the team’s morale up. They celebrate the health of the entire garden.
Key Takeaways
Your primary role as a leader is not to command, but to create the conditions for your team to flourish.
The most impactful leadership is often the most invisible—the quiet work of building trust, clearing roadblocks, and absorbing pressure.
Shift your focus from directing tasks to observing people. Paying attention will tell you everything you need to know about what your team needs.
Success is not just a single, spectacular win. It is the sustained health and resilience of the entire team.