Pardon me — it is actually
Garden Me
Your plants are pleading. You simply cannot hear them. We can.
In the aisle, before you buy it. In the garden, for years afterwards.
Photograph anything green and learn what it is, what it wants, and — before you part with your money — how much work it will actually be. Then year-round care, pest stewardship and weather alerts, for the devoted gardener and the serial offender alike. No judgement. Very little, anyway.
Free to download, with ten actions to begin. No subscription required. Side effects may include keeping things alive.
What it offers
Everything the garden requires.
Rain excepted. We have tried; the heavens are uncooperative.
Plant Detective
Photograph any plant and receive an identification down to the cultivar where the evidence allows — not merely 'apple tree', but which apple tree. Leaf, bark, fruit and habit all considered.
Write It Down for Nothing
Not every plant needs identifying. If you already know it is a rhubarb, type “rhubarb” and it costs you nothing at all — no photograph, no action spent, no ceremony. Record the whole garden for free, and save the asking for the ones you genuinely wonder about.
The Quiet Reminder
Year-round care notifications for every plant you own. We tell you when to prune, water, and feed — so nothing is discovered, browned and lifeless, come October.
The Garden Devils
Slugs, weeds, invasive species, disease. Identify your adversaries, track their advance, and receive removal advice — natural methods only. The slugs do not deserve a war crime.
Uninvited Guests
The roe deer strips a newly planted apple in its first winter, and by the time there is damage worth photographing the tree is already finished. So we name who is coming before they arrive — deer, elk, voles, hares — and what to do about it, with measurements. Mesh width, guard height, the month it must be standing. Not merely “protect from deer”.
Ailments Worth Recognising
A reminder that says “watch for silver leaf in August” is no use whatever to somebody who has never seen silver leaf. So every plant carries the illnesses that actually threaten it: what you will see, in the order you will notice it, and the one test that settles the matter — cut a dying branch and look for the dark stain in the wood.
Damage Forensics
The culprit has fled, but the evidence remains. Photograph a half-eaten leaf and we deduce the offender — slug, caterpillar, beetle or blight — from the holes, the trails, the telltale spots.
Should You Even Buy It?
Standing in the garden centre, holding something beautiful and expensive. Photograph it before you commit and we will tell you plainly what it demands of you — watering, pruning, winter coddling — and how forgiving it is when you forget. Photograph the label rather than the leaves if you like: a printed cultivar name beats any amount of squinting at foliage. Some plants are a joy. Some are a second job.
Knows Its Age — And Keeps Track
Tag each plant as freshly planted, settling in, or well established. A seedling and a veteran want entirely different things — and only one of them is permitted to be dramatic about it. It then grows up on its own: we count growing seasons, not calendar days, because nothing puts down roots in February.
Pot, Bed, Greenhouse or Windowsill
A potted bay dries out in a day; the border two metres away holds water for a week. Under glass it never rains at all, and the pests are entirely different ones. Tell us where each plant actually stands and the advice changes accordingly — not the garden in general, this plant in particular.
Sun, or the Lack of It
We ask where the plant stands, not merely what it would prefer. When the two disagree, we say so in the first breath — what it wants, what it is getting, and precisely how that ends.
A Link for the Neighbour
Going away? Share the garden as a web page. Whoever is watering will see what needs doing, how much is too much, and a photograph of every plant — so “the one by the shed” need never be attempted over a bad line from the airport. No app, no account, no explanation required.
"No, That Is Wrong"
You know your own garden. Reject an identification and Garden Me starts the reasoning over — never offering the same answer twice, and telling you which visible detail separates the new guess from the one you ruled out. You may also simply say what you think it is: “this is a plum tree, I am fairly certain” is treated as the strongest evidence in the room, because you are standing next to it and we are not. Being corrected costs you nothing. It rather ought not to.
Garden, Terrace or Balcony
A window box has nothing in common with an acre. Tell us whether you tend a garden, a terrace, or a single balcony, and the watering, feeding and overwintering advice adapts to your soil — or your charming lack of it.
A Garden Here, a Cabin There
Keep as many gardens as you have places, and give each one its own country. The cabin in Finland is then told about Finnish winters rather than about yours, and a garden below the equator is not warned of frost in July — the seasons turn the right way round on their own. Switch between them from the header; every reminder, warning and piece of advice follows.
Lists That Write Themselves
Shopping and equipment lists, composed automatically from what your garden actually contains. Each item tied to a specific plant or pest. No generic 'buy fertiliser'. The real kind.
Ask Garden Me
A conversation with your personal AI gardener — shy, but endlessly knowledgeable. Ask anything: why the leaves are yellow, when to divide the irises, whether that's a friend or a foe. No question too small.
Light Check
Hold up your phone to a corner and we judge the light it receives — then suggest what would actually thrive there. The feature other apps lock behind a paywall. Here, it simply comes along.
The Garden Journal
A diary for every plant. Photograph the first bud, the first bloom, the triumphant first tomato. Watch the seasons accumulate. Sentimental? Perhaps. But a garden is a slow story worth keeping.
Safe & Sound
Every plant flagged for toxicity to cats, dogs, and curious children. Know at a glance whether the new arrival is a gentle houseguest or quietly plotting against the family pet.
Weather Watch
Push alerts when frost, drought, or heavy rain threatens your particular garden. Even when you have not opened the app in a fortnight and forgotten the garden exists.
Six Languages
Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, English, German, Dutch — with climate-aware advice for each country. The plants care nothing for borders. We care, a little.
Powered by Claude AI
Not the kind of AI that insists a cactus needs daily watering. The kind that knows a rose from a ranunculus — and has the grace to admit when it is uncertain.
Two places, one app
In the garden centre. And then at home.
Most garden apps assume the plant is already yours. Rather a lot of gardening happens before that — standing in an aisle, wondering.
Before you buy
Photograph it on the shelf. Learn what it is, what light it wants, and — the question nobody else answers — how much work it will actually be. Then put it back, or do not. We shall not judge either way, though the plant might.
Once it is yours
Tell us where it stands — pot or bed, sun or shade, greenhouse or windowsill — and the care becomes specific to that plant in that spot. Then the reminders begin, and carry on quietly for years.
While you are away
Your neighbour is willing.
Your neighbour is not psychic.
Send them a link. They will see exactly what wants doing this week, which plant is which, and how much water is in fact too much — in an ordinary browser, with no app to install and no account to invent. They need never learn the word cultivar.
The link keeps working if you share again, and quietly expires when the holiday is long over. Whether the tomatoes survive your uncle remains, as ever, between you and your uncle.
For every green space
From a single pot to a teeming plant kingdom.
You need not own an acre to be a gardener. Whether you tend one brave geranium on a city balcony, a cluster of pots on a terrace, or a sprawling, opulent realm of green — Garden Me fits every size, and tailors its advice to the soil you actually have.
The Garden Devils
Every garden has its adversaries. Slugs that materialise after rain like small, gelatinous opportunists. Weeds with more ambition than one's houseplants. We help you identify them, track them, and prevail — by natural means alone.
And when the offender has already slipped away? Photograph the damage instead. From the holes, the slime trails, the spotted leaves, we name the most likely suspect — slug, caterpillar, beetle or blight.
Active after rain. Ravenous. Slow, yet deeply committed.
They were here first. They intend to be here last.
Small. Numerous. Famished for your hostas.
Damp weather's most persistent houseguest.
We never recommend harmful chemicals — neither for your garden nor the little rascals. Every method we suggest is natural, organic, and kind to the soil. Hand-picking, copper tape, beer traps, companion planting.
A garden at war with itself is no garden at all.
And should it all become too much — there is an "I surrender" button that summons professional gardeners nearby. No shame. Only survival.
For whom
Who is Garden Me for?
You, in all likelihood.
You hold opinions on soil pH and acquire plants before deciding where they shall live. Garden Me brings order to your magnificent chaos.
You inherited a garden and are doing your best. Garden Me tells you what things are, what they require, and whether the moment calls for panic.
You visit the cabin four times a year, and something always perishes in between. With weather alerts and care reminders — perhaps not this year.
What it costs
How much garden have you got?
The app itself is free.Every reminder, the whole year's calendar, the pest tracking, the shopping lists, the journal, the weather, sharing the garden with a neighbour — all of it, for everyone, always.
One thing costs: asking the app to think. Identifying a plant from a photograph, asking Garden Me a question, checking the light in a corner. We call those actions, and you begin with ten.
Most of them go at the start. Loading a garden of twenty plants costs about twenty actions, and then it goes quiet — a settled garden asks for five or ten in a month, and rather fewer in January. Being told we got something wrong costs nothing at all.
Bronze
A few pots, and some curiosity.
Twenty-five actions a month is a windowsill, a balcony, or a garden you have already got the measure of. Enough to identify what the neighbour planted over the fence and ask why it looks like that.
29 kr / 2,49 € a month
or 299 kr / 26,99 € a year
Silver
A garden that asks something of you every week.
Sixty actions a month. Room to load a border in one sitting, work out what is eating the roses, and still have plenty left when something unexpected comes up in August.
49 kr / 4,49 € a month
or 499 kr / 44,99 € a year
Gold
You would rather stop counting.
A hundred and fifty actions a month, which is more than a large garden manages to use. That is the actual point: you stop thinking about it and simply ask.
79 kr / 6,99 € a month
or 899 kr / 79,99 € a year
Or nothing at all, until you need something.
The app is free, and stays free. When the ten actions you begin with run out, you can buy more a handful at a time — from 49 kr / 4,49 € for twenty actions. They never expire, there is nothing to renew and nothing to remember to cancel. Some gardens want attention twice a year and then nothing until spring, and we shall not bill you monthly for that.
Yes, twenty actions costs about what a month of Silver does, and Silver would give you sixty. That is not a mistake. A subscription is always the better rate — that is rather the point of one. What you are buying instead is the absence of a subscription: twenty actions that will still be there next April, with nothing to cancel in between.
Prices shown in kroner and euro; the App Store will quote you in your own currency, which we are told is the civilised arrangement. Swedish and Danish kroner are close cousins of the Norwegian, and Apple works out the difference.
Notices from the garden
What the garden is saying
Reviews from actual plants. And one slug.
"I requested water for six weeks. Nobody listened. Then they installed the app. Alas, too late for me."
— A fern, formerly
"I personally required no assistance. My owner, however, required a great deal."
— A very smug cactus
"Dreadful. They located me at once and relocated me humanely. Where is the sport in that?"
— A brown slug
"A frost warning arrived at ten in the evening. I was covered. I survived. I owe this app my marinara."
— A tomato plant
"At last, someone who knows precisely when to prune. The audacity I had endured until now."
— A rose bush
"Would not recommend. Registered as a 'Garden Devil'. The disrespect. The accuracy."
— An anonymous weed
A universal affliction
"Green fingers."
"Grønne fingre."
"Gröna fingrar."
"Grüner Daumen."
"Groene vingers."
Every language has a phrase for the gift of growing things — and a polite silence regarding the soil beneath the nails. Whether yours are green by nature or merely by enthusiasm, Garden Me makes them a little greener.
The garden calls. You answer.
Garden Me observes the weather and sends word when attention is required — frost warnings, slug weather, drought, the first stirrings of spring.
Even if you have not opened the app since last Tuesday. Especially then.
Shall we keep things alive?
Download Garden Me. The garden will notice. The ferns may weep with relief.