Be a Project Gardener
Be a Project Gardener / Product Owner / Product Manager / Product ThinkerPlanting ideasCaring for the Seed, the Soil and the Tree.Fruits ripeness and deliveryAlive or dead, dancing with breath and decay
I always see any ideas as its own garden. A place where life unfolds not by force, but by gentle care and guidance.
To be a Product Manager is to be a Project Gardener: to embrace the role of steward in the lifecycle of an idea, much like tending to a living organism. It's not about commanding the growth, but nurturing it, planting seeds of vision, enriching the soil of collaboration, and watching as the tree of effort branches out. It forces you to surrender: you have no ultimate control over the fruit that emerges, only the privilege of aiding its journey so it aligns, as closely as possible, with the hope that birthed it.
See also: Product Owner at Schindler
Planting ideas
Planting starts with the seed—an embryonic thought, raw and full of potential. You select it carefully, not from a catalog of certainties, but from the fertile ground of necessity and inspiration.
You bury it in prepared soil: the team's collective mind, enriched with resources, knowledge, and trust. You water it with initial discussions, expose it to the sunlight of feedback.
But remember, the seed must crack open on its own; your role is to create conditions for germination, not to pry it apart with impatient hands.
Caring for the Seed, the Soil, and the Tree
Caring is an art of presence and absence.
For the seed, provide protection from early frosts: those doubts or distractions that could stifle emergence.
Tend the soil by tilling it regularly: remove weeds of miscommunication, add nutrients of skill-building and motivation.
As the tree grows, prune branches that veer off course, but only those that drain vitality, not the ones that add unexpected beauty. As the Product Owner/Manager/Thinker you're here to support the trunk with stakes of structure and process, yet allow the roots to delve deep into the team's ownership.
The gardener doesn't own the tree; they serve it, ensuring it stands tall against winds of change or storms of setbacks.
Let go of control. The Project Gardener understands that the end product (the fruit) is shaped by forces beyond one hand: the weather of market shifts, the pollinators of external input, the inherent nature of the seed itself. You help the team care for the project, fostering their intuition and autonomy.
Guide without gripping; suggest paths but let them wander. The fruit will be what it must be, and your hope is that through collective tending, it ripens into something nourishing, close to the vision planted.
Surrendering control isn't weakness—it's wisdom, allowing the organic flow to reveal truths you couldn't foresee.
The ripening and delivery
How to recognize when the fruit is ready?
Ripeness whispers, it doesn't shout.
From your position of seeing the globality, watch for the subtle signs: the color deepening from effort's maturation, the weight of achieved milestones pulling branches low. Test gently: does it yield to touch, releasing easily from the stem?
Delivery is the harvest, a moment of celebration and release. But beware unripe picking, driven by deadlines' false urgency, as it sours the taste for engineers and customers both.
The Gardener times it by intuition honed from seasons past, ensuring the fruit fulfills its promise before it's shared with the world.
Dancing with Breath and Decay
Breath is the space for life to expand. In the garden of projects, it means granting freedom—allowing the product and its actors to inhale deeply, to stretch beyond rigid plans.
Step back voluntarily, like retreating to the garden's edge to view the whole landscape, not just a single leaf. This voluntary withdrawal reveals the big picture: imbalances in growth, hidden blooms. It invites the team to breathe their own ideas into the soil, fostering innovation through liberty rather than constriction.
Without breath, the garden suffocates; with it, it thrives in unexpected vitality.
Decay sounds inevitable, yet purposeful.
Decay is the shadow twin of growth, not to be feared but embraced.
It begins with pruning: cutting away deadwood—outdated features, inefficient processes—to redirect energy toward vitality. You need to embrace and accept natural evolution and change.
The tree bends with seasons, shedding leaves of old assumptions to make way for new buds.
But the deepest wisdom is designing the project's end from the start. Establish criteria early: under what conditions has the idea fulfilled its mission? When the fruit has been harvested and seeds dispersed, or when the soil is depleted and yields diminish?
Death is bound to every living thing; projects are no exception. By acknowledging this, we gain a measure of control—not over avoidance, but over grace.
Blindness to decay invites rot; acceptance transforms it into renewal.
Conclusion
The Product Gardener is both creator and witness. They plant with hope, care with devotion, release with grace. In the end, the garden teaches us: life flourishes not through domination, but through harmonious dance with its rhythms.
Be the Gardener, and watch worlds bloom.