Looking for a garden planter that doesn’t scream “I was $4.99 at a discount store”? Same. That’s how I ended up elbow-deep in cement, repurposing an old towel into a fake tree stump. Yes, you read that right. A towel. And some mud. And a lot of questionable life choices that somehow led to one of the coolest planters in my yard. Yes, I love cement planters!
So if you too want to create a woodland vibe in your garden that looks intentional—not like a random pile of mismatched pots—here’s my exact process, step by step, including all the things I messed up so you don’t have to.
Why I Decided to Make My Own Planter
Let’s be real: plastic planters are the fashion Crocs of the gardening world. Functional, sure. But pretty? Not unless you’re planting them behind a bush where no one can see.
I had this pile of leftover pots from various plant purchases that were too ugly to display and too useful to throw away. And one day, I looked at one and thought, “What if you were… a tree?” That’s the story of how I decided to turn an old pot into a fake cement stump. Because apparently, that’s who I am now.
Materials You’ll Need (a.k.a. What You’ll Be Covered In by the End)
- One sad old plastic pot
- Cement (just enough to ruin your favorite clothes)
- Water (bonus points if it’s from your rain barrel)
- One large towel you never want to see again
- Brown, black, beige, and green acrylic paints (or whatever earthy mess you have on hand)
- Outdoor varnish to seal your masterpiece
- Rubber gloves unless you want hands like a bricklayer
Choose the Victim (I Mean, Pot)
Pick a plastic pot that’s the right size for what you’re planting. I used a medium one—it’s noticeable but not something that’ll throw your back out if you try to move it.
Want succulents? Use a small pot. Planning to grow a bush that’ll one day eat your garden gnome? Go bigger. Just make sure if you’re planning to use it as a decorative outer shell, your actual pot fits inside. Otherwise, you’ll cry later. Ask me how I know.
The Process Of Making These Art Pieces
Now for the fun part: mixing cement like you’re making pancakes for a very dusty giant. You want the texture of drinkable yogurt. Yes, it sounds gross. But it’s the best comparison I’ve got. I used a power drill with a mixer attachment because stirring by hand made me feel like I was trying to churn butter in a cement factory.
Find a towel you’re emotionally ready to let go of. No, not the one you stole from that hotel—you’ll need something larger. Old bath towels, kitchen cloths, or even floor rags work. The goal is to wrap the whole pot and have enough fabric left over to stuff inside the rim. I also cut a few strips to make “roots.” Because nothing says I know what I’m doing like fake cement roots flopping out the sides.
Dunk the towel in and squish it like it owes you money. It needs to be completely soaked, no dry corners.
Lay the gooey towel over your pot. Fold, squish, pinch, and smush until it vaguely resembles tree bark—or at least something you can call "rustic." No two folds should be the same. Bark isn’t symmetrical, and your fake stump shouldn’t be either. Stuff the top edge of the towel inside the pot so it doesn’t flap in the wind like a forgotten laundry day. Add your root strips—bend them like snake tails or twirl them like you’re auditioning for tree cosplay. Get weird with it. At this point, you’ll be covered in cement, questioning your decisions, and considering whether this was all a mistake. You’re on the right track.
Don't forget to add roots. Walk away! Do. Not. Touch. Let the whole thing dry for at least two days. I know it’s tempting to poke it or move it or admire it up close, but don’t. Cement is like a cat: it needs space and time to decide if it likes you. Put it somewhere shady. If it bakes in the sun, it’ll crack. Like my patience waiting for it to dry.
Now you’re ready to turn that lump of dried cement into something magical. I started with a mix of brown and black acrylic paint, like a moody tree in an indie film. Painted the whole thing dark.
Once dry, I sponged on lighter tones—brown with a bit of beige, then more beige, then almost no brown.
Each new layer was like adding wrinkles to an old log. If it started looking too much like a chocolate cake, I dialed it back.
I even added green into the deeper folds to mimic moss. Totally optional, but it gave it that “this stump has seen things” vibe.
Last step. Seal the whole thing with outdoor-grade varnish. Otherwise, the next rainstorm will wash your paint job into the grass, and you’ll cry again. Apply the varnish with a brush. Try not to drown the poor thing, just give it a nice even coat. Let it dry. Done.
I ended up making two planters because one wasn’t enough. The big one holds a juniper bush that looks right at home in it. The smaller one? Lavender. In a plastic pot. Hidden inside. Because I’m sneaky like that.
Find a place for them.
They honestly look like they grew out of the flowerbed. And everyone who visits either asks how I made them or quietly hopes I’ll just give them one. Spoiler: I won’t. But I might show them this post.
Final Thoughts (and Warning)
Would I do it again? Absolutely.
Would I use a drop cloth next time to avoid having cement crust on my patio table for eternity? Yes, yes I would.
Would I trade these planters for store-bought ones? Not even for a set of hand-thrown artisan ceramics.
If you’ve got an old towel and a few hours of free time, you can totally make one of these. Just don’t wear your favorite shirt. Wanna some ideas how to style the planter? Here are inspiring ideas.