It has been a very wet and stormy April, both literally and in life. I have struggled to get to the computer to write or even grab a book to read. I’m finding it hard to maintain my healthy routines, and old habits are creeping back in. But one thing that can always ground me and bring me back to the present is my garden. There is something so beautiful about being outside and working with your hands. It’s like the soil drains my anxiety and I’m able to breathe again. Not a shallow breath, but a deep belly one. Let’s not forget about the bees. Seeing them buzz around is one of my favorite things about the gardening season. To put it simply, they fill me with pure joy.

April tends to be the most overwhelming month of the gardening season for me. It’s when tasks start to pile on top of each other and everything feels like a priority. It’s also the time the last frost happens here in the Midwest and all the heat-loving plants can finally go outside. But it’s not that simple. The weather is very unpredictable in the spring, where temperatures can swing from very hot to a frost all in one day. I probably check the forecast several times a day. It’s like a new hobby of mine.

When trying to figure out when to start hardening off plants and moving them into the garden, I have to take into consideration a full week of the forecast. Sometimes I get stuck in analysis paralysis, so I just have to force myself to make a decision. I can either keep them inside and risk them getting root-bound and weak, or I can plant them outside and hope a fluke frost doesn’t happen. It is a risk either way. But in gardening, it is all a risk, as we can’t control nature. There is beauty in that. Learning to let go of control and still try something new, especially when you don’t know the outcome.

I have killed many plants as a gardener, but that has not stopped me from being excited to do it all again the next year. Because I know that some plants will survive and produce the most beautiful blooms. That, my friend, is hope in a nutshell. Knowing things may not work out as you plan, but trying anyway because the possibility of beauty is worth the risk.

What happened in my garden this past month? A LOT.

First, we cleaned up all the garden beds and amended the soil. I usually mix in some compost with cow manure and worm castings. I did this last year, and I noticed a huge difference in the plants and their blooms. One lesson I’ve learned over the years is that the health of the soil is one of the most important things for a garden. There is so much growth that happens underneath the ground before it becomes visible, which is just a great reminder for anything you pursue in life. When you start something new and consistently show up, a lot of your growth will not be visible. And I think that sometimes we can get very impatient or discouraged when there aren’t tangible or visible results. I’m guilty of this all the time. But if we just keep at it, we will eventually see those results.

Once the raised beds and containers were cleaned up and amended, it was time to slowly evict my seedlings from the house. At the beginning of the month, I planted all my cold-hardy plants into the garden. That included all of my snapdragons, foxgloves, violas, and chamomile seedlings. Towards the end of the month, I planted my black-eyed Susans, marigolds, and dahlias outside. This year, I planted the dahlias in a different area of the garden, as I have not had a fully successful year with them yet. Fingers crossed this is their year. We also put up netting support for some of the taller plants like the snapdragons and dahlias. I finally learned my lesson from the past couple of years and put a cage support on my peonies as well.

I almost forgot, I sowed all of my zinnia seeds at the beginning of the month as well. All 100+ of them. I usually overplant because not all the seeds will sprout. This year, it seems like all the babies wanted to be part of the garden, as about 95% sprouted, so I have way more than I need. But I will find a spot for most of them and share some with my mother-in-law. Zinnias are one of my favorite flowers, and I can’t wait to share more about them in the coming months. These, along with the celosia plants, won’t go into the garden until early to mid-May, as they cannot survive cold temperatures at all.

My garden is not just within the enclosure; it extends to several areas around our house. We have several perennial plants lining our backyard like roses, lilies, hostas, hydrangeas, etc. In front of the house, we have peonies, roses, daisies, coneflowers, asters, salvia, etc. Since it’s been so warm and wet this spring, these plants have started growing insanely quick and earlier than usual. An important April task was to prune the rose bushes. I took a couple of hours one Sunday to go through them and prune off all the dead branches. I remember feeling so grounded and relaxed that day. I was out there without any music, no podcast, nothing. It was just me, the plants, and the birds.

I think we need that often, a slow quiet moment in nature. We tend to fill our minds with something every second of the day, to the point that we can’t even hear our own thoughts. As someone who can live inside their head a lot, I need those moments of peace and quiet. This has proven to help with my creativity as well, cutting out the noise of the fast-paced world we live in now.

The past few years of gardening and continuous learning have resulted in our front and back lawn being filled with dandelions and other plants most would consider to be “weeds.” A weed is just a plant in the wrong place, and that is subjective. I will admit, when we first bought the house, we used to spray horrible weed killer and dig out each plant. But not anymore. When I stopped spraying harsh chemicals like weed killer and insecticide, our garden flourished. Weed killer is horrible for the environment and can harm beneficial plants and pollinators. (More on pest control in the coming months.)

Plus, weeds are usually the first source of food for bees and birds in the spring here in the Midwest. Just the other day, we saw a ton of birds on our lawn snacking on dandelions. We are one of a few houses on our block without a perfectly clean and manicured lawn, and I’m okay with that. There’s something about letting things grow where they want that feels a little more like us. And who knows, maybe after a few years we’ll go crazy and plant wildflowers in our entire front lawn.

As April came to an end, I’m happy to report that the snapdragons and violas have already started blooming, which is exciting. I’ve cut a couple handfuls of snapdragons already and brought them into the house, which is also one of my favorite things to do. I get to watch them go through the end of their life cycle. When I bring them into the house, I know they aren’t going to stay alive for long. Some flowers last longer than others, but what I’ve come to realize is that they have the power to keep me in the present. Every time I see their beautiful blooms, even as they start to fade, it brings me back to the moment. It’s like a soft reminder to stop, breathe, and just appreciate the beauty in the now. And as a person who is always thinking about what’s next, I feel incredibly grateful that gardening and flowers have become such a big part of my life, especially in tough seasons. It’s a daily reminder that there is beauty all around us, we just have to slow down to see it.

One Last thing….

Here’s a short video from April in my garden. I’m so excited to see how the garden continues to grow this year. Next up, May.

Francisca lay in bed, staring at the thin lines of sunlight illuminating through the blinds. A tiny smile crawled onto her face when she realized what day it was. It was the first day of gardening season. Her secret weapon against Greta. Finally, she thought as she rose out of bed.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that version of me. The one who believes the garden can fix everything. But it’s not that simple. Yes, it’s great for my mental health and has the power to keep Greta (my inner gremlin) away, but what it truly gives me is hope. It softens my pessimistic side and brings out my optimistic one. It helps me have hope for tomorrow, hope that there is still beauty in the world, and hope for my own life. And oh boy, does it teach me patience and the fact that I cannot control everything.

But let’s be honest, real life is not like our dreams. Nothing is free. If we want all those things from the garden, we have to work for it. And gardening is a lot of work.

My garden has grown exponentially over the past few years. It started with a few veggies in pots and has grown into a 16’ by 24’ enclosure with multiple raised beds and too many to count pots. My favorite thing to grow is cut flowers. I do grow peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and a handful of herbs, but the majority of the garden is flowers.

As I step into my fourth year of gardening, I wanted to share its beauty with you and document my journey. So that is what this will be. I will recap each month, share gardening updates, maybe a few tips, lessons I learned (in life and gardening), and of course share its beauty through pictures and videos. I don’t know if this will have a specific format or what this will evolve into but for now it is my version of a garden diary.

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I live in the Chicagoland area, so my gardening season is limited. Even though spring is here, our last frost isn’t until about mid to end of April. That means all the heat-loving plants cannot be planted outside until then. However, my gardening season technically starts in late February as I start seeds indoors. There is something so magical about taking a speck of a seed, putting it in soil, and watching it grow into a big, beautiful plant. Between February and March, I have sown snapdragon seeds, black-eyed Susans, dahlias, foxglove, chamomile, marigolds, celosia, and viola jump-up seeds.

One thing about gardening is that you will fail and kill plants. I already had my first failure of the season. The first batch of foxglove seeds I planted all died except two plants. This is my first year growing them and, well, I was impatient. I took the dome lid off the tray too soon. The few sprouts dried up and died quickly, and the rest of the seeds never sprouted. It was like a slap on the wrist. Nature’s way of reminding me to be patient. I started a second batch and am happy to report all 12 seedlings are doing great.

This is also the time I map out the garden and think about issues from last year. A big problem we encountered was rats burrowing into our snapdragon and dahlia raised beds. Ugh, those critters make me sick. The year before last, we dealt with earwigs. I’m curious to see what kind of pest we will have to fight this year, because if there is one thing gardening has taught me, it is that there will be problems and I will not be able to control all of it. Anywho, we need to figure out a solution for the rats this season.

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While March is filled with a lot of tasks to do indoors, it’s also the time to clean up the raised beds and pots from last year. I will admit the garden was a hot mess. I was so burnt out last fall and neglected it the last couple months of the season. We did not do any cleaning up or anything. Earlier this month, Armando and I tag-teamed clearing out all the dead plants. The next step is to amend the soil, but it’s looking like that may be an April task for most of the raised beds.

One other exciting thing I’ve started doing is hardening off my snapdragons, chamomile, and viola jump-up babies. I’m pretty sure I potted up the snapdragon seeds too soon because they are so tall and are starting to flower already. They desperately need to go into the raised beds before they get root-bound and their growth is stunted. This is also a great reminder that the environment we’re in plays a huge factor in our growth. Sometimes we need to pull our roots up and plant them somewhere else in order to thrive.

While this past month has been tough for me personally, getting my garden going has helped. I usually have a handful of days throughout the month where I spend a few hours in our gardening nook. I will pop in an audiobook (currently listening to It by Stephen King) and just work in my own peaceful bubble. Sometimes it’s sowing seeds or potting up the babies to give them more room to grow.

One thing I have come to accept is that from the months of March through May, the nook will be a huge mess. But I have come to enjoy the mess because it means life is being born and I’m cultivating beauty. It also means I’m outrunning Greta and the screws of my anxiety goggles are starting to come loose.

As I come to the end of the month, I need to remind myself to take it one day at a time. I can sometimes try to do too many things at once and end up neglecting self-care. But what I’m learning is that sometimes all I need is to take things slow. To focus on one thing. I originally planned to start draft two of my novel in April, but I’ve decided to push it out one more month. The garden needs most of my attention this next month. The seedlings need to be nurtured and taken care of. And I know that if I take care of them, they will take care of me.

One Last thing….

My original plan was to share a video montage of the past month, but life happened and we just didn’t get to it. So instead, I’m sharing a couple of videos from previous years. Thanks again for reading. I’m so excited to share more throughout the season.

This week’s reflection looks at this year’s gardening season and how it mirrored my own creative journey, from planting too much to learning when to let go. It’s a reminder that even in burnout there is growth.

Beauty in the Decay

I planned heavy writing sessions for the weekend after Halloween, but Saturday came and I just didn’t have it in me. I still showed up, but it was the bare minimum, literally just a brain dump of words I’d hoped to eventually turn into something worth reading.

Needing a change of scenery to help with my blah mood, I went outside into my garden, the one I’ve neglected since August. And boy, oh boy, was it still putting on a show.

Let me be clear: the garden is dying — it’s November and just part of its life cycle — but there is still so much beauty.

The air was cool and had a slight nip to it. It was perfect sweater weather. The zinnia raised beds are still blooming. Their petals are faded now, softer and duller, but the fact that they’re still blooming in November feels like a small miracle. Last year, they were covered in powdery mildew and gone by early August. The marigolds are just as resilient, their orange and yellow blooms still glowing. The snapdragons, while mostly done for the season, still have life in them. Their foliage is a deep, rich green that refuses to fade.

The sunflowers, once proud and tall, have bowed their heads in final surrender, and even in that, there’s beauty. I didn’t cut many this year, but I’ve loved watching the birds feast on their seeds, carrying little pieces of my garden away with them.

Looking around, I realized how much I’ve learned this season, not just about plants but about myself.

This spring and summer I wanted to do it all. I am a strong and resilient person and can sometimes thrive in pressure and chaos. It’s almost as if my body and mind crave it. It’s very familiar and cozy there. I’m also a very curious and ambitious person and I struggle with going slow and doing less. Sometimes I tie my self-worth to my accomplishments, which is probably why I have a hard time stopping once I start. So naturally, I planted many different seeds of the new Stina I wanted to become.

I planted one in the social media universe. I kept watering the algorithm until I drowned in it. I started my seeds for my writing journey in early January, so I was tending to those seedlings by April, trying to do it all. I read so many writing craft books and listened to all the podcasts until it paralyzed me and slowed down my writing instead of helping it. I then decided it was time to plant those seedlings in the garden and just start writing. So naturally, I went big and decided to start working on a novel on top of trying to write weekly posts for my Substack. It was intense.

Summer came, and another goal was to prioritize and pack in some family fun every weekend. I did all that while trying to keep up with the garden, which is a lot of work. Oh, I forgot one thing…I also have a full-time job.

By August, I was running on fumes, trying to keep everything alive: the garden, my goals, my creative spark. It’s funny how burnout looks a lot like the end of a season. Things don’t die all at once. They fade slowly, color draining until only what’s essential remains. The garden started to let go, and maybe I was meant to do the same.

Looking back on this past gardening season, I don’t see loss or failure. I see growth and transformation. I had to shed parts of the old me to become who I am today, and who I’m still becoming. I’m proud of myself for trying new things and for recognizing when something wasn’t working or aligned with my goals. I get to take those lessons with me into the next season of my life and writing journey.

So here’s my reminder to you…..When you see a garden dying and flowers losing their color, don’t discount them. Revel in their beauty. Despite being neglected for months, my garden still showed me that there is beauty even in the struggle. It felt like a sign from the universe telling me to keep going. Keep writing. Even when it’s hard. You got this. A reminder that there is beauty in the decay.

My garden has the power to shift my entire mood just by existing. I can’t explain it exactly, but there are moments when I’m overwhelmed, wearing what I call my anxiety goggles, and the second I step into the garden, it’s like something lifts. The stress and negativity begin to fall away. It feels as if there's an invisible force field at the garden gate, one that only allows peace, joy, and calm to enter.

I’ve planted almost everything that needs to go into the garden this season, and now the next couple of months are all about the growth journey. Every single day, I step into the garden to check on the plants and see how they’re coming along.

My snapdragons are growing taller and starting to bloom. The Black-Eyed Susans are forming their flower buds. The violas are living their best life, blooming consistently, and I just need to stay on top of removing their spent blooms. The zinnias, celosia, and dahlias are still establishing their roots, so most of their progress is happening below the surface.

This year, I direct sowed over 50 sunflower seeds. At first, I was worried I had done something wrong because nothing sprouted for over a week. But like magic, on day ten, they all began to pop through the soil. Seeing that after an incredibly stressful day felt like medicine for my soul. It cleared my mind, pulled me out of my anxious thoughts, and brought me fully into the present moment.

These small, daily moments in the garden have a way of grounding me and quietly revealing deeper truths about life. The more time I spend tending to plants, the more I realize that gardening isn’t just about flowers and vegetables. It’s about hope, growth, resilience, patience, and learning to let go of what I can’t control. So today, I want to share some of the most meaningful life lessons I’ve learned from the garden, one season at a time.

Gardening has taught me patience.

As humans, we all struggle with patience. It’s part of the human experience. We want things, and we want them now. In today’s world, with everything at our fingertips, we’ve become conditioned to expect instant results. Want to know the name of an actress in a movie? You can look it up on your phone in seconds. Forgot to buy garbage bags? You can order them online and have them delivered within hours. There are even medications that promise quick weight loss. Even our kids can’t sit through a full ad without waiting for the skip button to appear.

We’re forgetting how to be patient.

We get excited to work toward new goals or chase our dreams, but too often we give up before our growth even has a chance to sprout. Just like plants, growth comes at different rates. Many plants spend time establishing their roots before anything becomes visible above the surface. There is so much happening underground that we can't see, and the same is true of personal growth.

When starting a new skill or building a habit, the progress might not be visible right away, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. We have to keep moving forward and take small, steady steps.

For example, I recently started writing my first fiction novelette. So far, I’ve written only about ten pages. I’ve outlined the story and know the main elements of the plot and the main character, but the process is slow. I’m still learning how to write fiction, so I can’t expect to finish a book in just a few weeks. But if I keep working on it a little bit each day, I will eventually complete my first draft.

I’ve also been working on rewiring my brain to make more space for growth and joy in my life. I struggle with anxiety and used to have a very negative view of the world, mostly because that’s what I paid attention to. But back in November, I decided to take control of the narrative of my life. I had to sit with myself and figure out why I couldn’t break out of the slump I was in.

Eventually, I realized I wasn’t happy with my job as an accountant. More importantly, I realized that I’m happiest when I’m doing something creative and working toward a goal—any goal. I also came to understand that my job does not define me. I am more than my work. And while I can’t afford not to have a job, I can still make space to pursue other things that bring me joy, like writing.

While I’ve made a lot of progress in shifting my mindset, I still have moments when stress pulls me back into anxiety and negativity. In those moments, I try to be patient with myself and offer grace so I can move through the feelings without getting stuck in them.

I know I’m rambling a little, but here’s what I’ll say: gardening has taught me to be patient with myself and with my growth. Progress may be slow, but the blooms of your hard work will be worth the wait.

Plants thrive and grow best when they’re in the right environment. The same is true for us. Personal growth is deeply affected by our surroundings, the people we spend time with, and the things we consume.

My zinnias this year aren’t doing as well as they could be. Some are still sitting in the tiny cell trays where I first planted them. Their growth is stunted, their leaves are turning yellow, and they may not survive much longer because they need more space to grow.

Sometimes we do the same thing to ourselves. We stay in small, limiting boxes that others have placed us in, or that society has made us believe we belong in. Often, we even create these boxes ourselves through limiting beliefs, reinforced by the things we consume. If we are constantly taking in messages that are negative or that make us feel unworthy of our goals, those beliefs can take root. Over time, we may stop trying altogether.

The same idea applies to the people we surround ourselves with. Are they working toward goals of their own? Do they encourage growth and support your journey? Or do they mostly complain, express doubt, and discourage progress? If it’s the latter, they may not be the right people to keep close. It’s important to spend time with those who inspire you, who support your growth, and who have walked the path you hope to follow.

This also includes the content we engage with. Since I began working toward becoming an author, I’ve filled my environment with tools that support that dream. I read more books, watch videos on storytelling, and listen to writing podcasts. I intentionally choose to learn from others who have been through this journey and kept going, even when it was hard.

Plants are also incredibly resilient.
Last year, my zinnias were infected with powdery mildew, yet they continued to bloom through the end of summer. Their flowers weren’t as bright or full as they could have been, but they still fought to produce them. I also planted single-stem sunflowers, and after their first blooms faded, I assumed that was the end of those plants. I was so happy to be wrong. They kept branching out and growing more flowers. They were beautiful and brought me so much joy.

It felt like a message just for me to keep going and keep trying.

I had a pretty tough childhood, and many things in my life didn’t give me the direction or support every kid deserves when stepping into adulthood. But those challenges shaped me into a resilient person. I’ve always done what I could to create the kind of life I wanted. I didn’t let my circumstances stop me from moving forward. My path has never been a straight line, but I’m proud of the woman I’ve become.

Still, when I enter seasons of darkness, it’s easy to forget all I’ve accomplished or what I’m capable of. Starting a garden from seed and nurturing it through the summer reminded me of my resilience and my strength. Sometimes life deals us the short straw, but that doesn’t mean we give up.

Like a tree that bends with the wind but doesn’t break, resilience allows us to endure life’s storms and keep reaching for the light.

Gardening has also taught me that I can’t control everything.

No matter how hard I try to prevent pest damage or stop disease from spreading, nature has a way of reminding me that some things are simply out of my hands. As someone who lives with anxiety, this has been a hard lesson to accept. I’ve spent much of my life trying to manage every detail, hoping that control would bring me peace. But gardening gently reminds me that real peace often comes from learning to let go.

Anxiety is like standing in a fog, trying to see the road ahead and panicking because you can’t. It thrives in uncertainty and feeds on the need to control things that are out of your hands. That was my daily reality for a long time, and it still is from time to time. I was constantly trying to plan for every possible outcome, believing that if I could just stay one step ahead, I would finally feel safe.

A lot of anxiety stems from growing up in an environment that was chaotic and unpredictable. This chaos followed me into adulthood and is still with me at times. When you never know what situation you’re going to face, you stay alert, trying to anticipate and prepare for the worst. That constant state of fear trains your brain to crave control. You begin to believe that if you can just keep everything in order, you’ll finally feel safe. But I am learning that life doesn’t work that way. Neither does gardening.

In the garden, I’m learning how to sit with uncertainty. I do what I can; watering, weeding, nurturing. Then I let nature take it from there. It isn’t easy, but it’s helping me unlearn the belief that I need to hold everything together all the time. Sometimes, things still go wrong. A plant wilts. A storm rolls in. But the world doesn’t end, and neither do I. That simple truth is healing in its own quiet way.

"To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow." - Audrey Hepburn

This brings me to the final lesson I believe we all need: HOPE.

It’s no secret that we’re living through challenging times. There have been moments when I’ve questioned our humanity, wondered how we’re losing it. It truly breaks my heart to see how people are treating each other, both across the world and right here, up close. I had so much hope last year for change, but that hope was ripped right out from under me. I was angry for a while, full of despair.

But I’ve learned that I cannot wait for the outside world to save me or hand me the hope I need. I have to create that hope myself. Hope for the future my son and nieces will grow up in. Hope for my dreams and aspirations. Hope for a better timeline. I am slowly unlearning my pessimistic ways.

In gardening, as in life, we are often unsure what the future holds. But when we plant a seed, we are making a quiet, powerful choice to believe in what is next. We nurture the plants, give them water, and are forced to trust that something beautiful will grow, even when the process is uncertain and slow.

Hope is the belief that despite the struggles and setbacks, there is something worthwhile on the horizon. And like gardening, hope does not always come with instant results. But when we keep tending to it, with patience and care, it blooms when we least expect it.

And don't forget to THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS—because you deserve them!

This past weekend, I saw a bumblebee. The moment I spotted it, a grin bloomed uncontrollably across my face. I instantly grabbed my phone to take a picture, but it flew away before I had the chance. It will be back soon, along with so many more bees. Seeing that bumblebee felt like a clear and certain sign: gardening season is officially here.

Gardening has become a part of the ever-turning kaleidoscope that is me. It has also been a steady source of joy, especially on the days when my vision was clouded by the heavy lenses of negativity. Gardening is one way I tend to my inner world, pulling weeds of doubt, planting seeds of possibility, and patiently nurturing small joys until they bloom into steady hope, crowding out anxiety and negativity.

Over the past couple of years of gardening, I’ve learned a lot and continue to discover new things each season. I’ve gained practical knowledge about gardening, but I’ve also internalized valuable life lessons. This gardening season feels a little different because I’m not entering it with such a negative mindset. I’ve been working hard to rewire my brain and feel like I’m in a better headspace than I was last year. But wow, gardening has already reminded me just how challenging it can be.

So, if you’re a new gardener or thinking about starting, here are some practical lessons I’ve learned over the years that may help you this season:

Every plant is different and needs specific things to thrive. While they all rely on the basics, sunlight, water, and good soil, the exact conditions they prefer can vary.

The amount of sunlight each plant needs is different. Plants like sunflowers, zinnias, roses, tomatoes, and peppers love the heat and do best with at least eight hours of direct sunlight a day. They can still grow with less, but their development may be stunted. On the other hand, plants like hydrangeas and hostas prefer partial shade, which means they do well with about three hours of direct sunlight daily.

Temperature requirements vary as well. Plants like snapdragons, violas, pansies, cilantro, lettuce, and spinach thrive in cooler weather and can even tolerate a light frost. Once temperatures climb above 70 degrees, these cool-season plants may wilt, bolt, or go to seed. I learned quickly that I can’t grow lettuce and spinach in the summer—ironic, considering nurseries often sell them during that time. By then, their growing season has already passed or is nearly over.

In contrast, some plants need warmer conditions (above 70 degrees) to grow well. Zinnias, sunflowers, dahlias, marigolds, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers thrive in the heat and are sensitive to frost.

Another lesson I’ve learned is that no two plants grow at the same speed. Many have different days-to-maturity rates, which means patience is essential, especially when waiting for slower-growing varieties to take off.

Plants like Black-Eyed Susans (‘Prairie Sun’) and dahlias, when started from seed, can take up to 120 days to mature. Depending on where you live and the length of your growing season, you may need to start these indoors 4 to 8 weeks before your last frost if you want to enjoy blooms during the summer.

On the other hand, there are faster growers like sunflowers and zinnias, which can go from seed to bloom in just 50 days and can be direct sowed. Cucumbers are another speedy option, producing fruit within 50 to 60 days after planting. They’re also very easy to grow from seed and can be direct sown into your garden. So instead of buying seedlings from a nursery, you can save money by starting them yourself—just be sure to give them something to climb. I learned this last year when I started some indoors and was amazed on how quickly they grew. I will be direct sowing these into the garden this year in a couple weeks.

Tomatoes and Peppers, on the other hand, are trickier to grow from seed and can take up to 100 days to produce fruit. I usually buy tomato and pepper seedlings from the nursery each year and plant them in my garden around Mother’s Day.

“Cut and come again” flowers are some of my favorite varieties. Zinnias, dahlias, black-eyed Susans, and snapdragons are a few that will continue to bloom and produce multiple flowers the more you cut them. Some gardeners even pinch back zinnias, dahlias, and snapdragons once they’ve developed a few sets of true leaves to encourage branching and ultimately more blooms. While this may delay flowering by a few weeks, the reward is a much fuller display of flowers.

It’s important to keep cutting these flowers regularly, even if you’re not planning to bring them indoors. Whether you planted them for the pollinators or simply for their beauty, letting flowers go to seed too early signals the plant to stop producing more. If you don’t cut them, they’ll use their energy to make seeds instead of new blooms.

In general, pruning is essential for plant health. Regularly removing dead or damaged branches and spent blooms helps keep your plants thriving throughout the season.

When I first started gardening, I didn’t know the difference between annual plants and perennial ones. Simply put, perennial plants are those that come back every year. They die back in the winter and regrow in the spring. Peonies, roses, hostas, and coneflowers are all considered perennials.

Annual plants, on the other hand, only grow for one season and need to be replanted each year. Some common annuals include sunflowers, zinnias, marigolds, and cosmos.

Another crucial care tip I wish I’d known sooner is about providing support—especially for plants that grow taller than three feet. There are so many factors we can’t control in the garden, and weather is one of the biggest. A strong thunderstorm or even a windy day can bend or snap tall plants if they’re not supported properly, and that kind of damage can be fatal. This year, I’m using a netting system to help support my taller plants like dahlias, zinnias, snapdragons, and sunflowers.

Let’s talk about pests. They are the bane of my existence, and I am in a constant battle with them. I’ll admit, I learn something new every year—and I’ve already gone to war with aphids, in April!

Earwigs are the absolute worst. Armando and I have fought many battles against them over the years. Here’s the hard truth: you will never completely win the war with pests. You grew delicious plants and expected them to stay away? Ha! I was delusional when I thought I could control pests.

Now, there are natural ways to minimize the damage, but they require consistency. This isn’t a one-and-done situation—you have to stay on top of it. For example, I spray neem oil on my plants and apply Sluggo Plus to garden beds or containers. You can also set up traps by pouring vegetable oil and a few drops of soy sauce into a plastic cup and placing it in your raised beds or containers. The earwigs are drawn to the soy sauce and then drown in the oil. Is it gross? Yes. Is it effective? Also yes. Will it kill all the earwigs? No, but it will slow them down.

I’ve also made the mistake of spraying harsh pesticides to try to control pests. It works—for about two weeks. Then the horrible pests come back with a vengeance. The problem with chemical sprays is that they kill off all the beneficial insects too. And if you have plants that attract pollinators and helpful bugs, they’ll not only pollinate your fruiting plants, but they’ll help you with pest control as well. That’s why I now avoid using harsh chemicals in the garden. They’re harmful to the environment and can seriously hurt our pollinators and other important allies.

I don’t have all the answers when it comes to garden pests. What I do know is this: there will be pests, and you won’t be able to control them all. But I’ll keep planting things that invite beneficial insects to be my little soldiers. I’ll feed them well, and they’ll hunt the pests for me. Win-win.

Out of all the lessons I’ve learned about gardening, this is one every new gardener needs to hear: YOU WILL KILL PLANTS! There’s no way around it, and it’s okay. It’s part of the gardening experience.

A dead plant doesn’t mean you’re a failure. It’s simply an opportunity to learn what went wrong. Did you not water enough? Did you give them too much love and overwater them? Yes, it’s absolutely possible to overwater plants. Maybe they weren’t in a spot that got enough sunlight, or maybe they needed more shade.

Bottom line: if you kill a plant, don’t give up. Instead, I invite you to learn from it and try again. The garden will always give you another chance. That is the thing about gardening. It is not about control. It is about partnership with nature.

Gardening is a lifelong learning journey. I don’t have all the answers, but I continue to learn something new each season. Thankfully, there are so many great resources available to us. One of my favorites for flowers is the Floret Farms Website. If you want to learn more about growing flowers, I highly recommend exploring the library section on their site.

Watching plants go through their full life cycle is a beautiful experience, and I encourage you to bring it into your life in any way you can. Gardening is so much more than growing plants—it has taught me valuable life lessons about patience, resilience, and letting go of control. In my next post, I’ll share more about how tending to my garden has helped me tend to my inner world too.

A quick note: I’ll be shifting to posting every other week for the foreseeable future. Thanks so much for being here and growing with me. I appreciate your support and readership!

Then, I launched into an enthusiastic rundown of every flower’s progress. I finished my coffee, slid on my sunglasses, grabbed my gardening gloves and pruning shears, and rushed out the back door with the excitement of a child. Freddy, my standard poodle, came running after me. I stepped onto the deck, turned to face the garden, and was instantly filled with serotonin. A gentle breeze carried the fresh scent of soil and flowers, while the sun bathed the garden in warm light, making everything feel alive and vibrant. The garden had just begun to bloom, and it was beautiful.

I walked down the deck stairs, grabbed the hose, and entered the garden with a smile from ear to ear. I set the hose down and slowly wandered around, taking it all in. The zinnias were taller than yesterday, and some of their buds were starting to open up. The sunflowers, nearly as tall as I was, still had their buds tightly closed. The black-eyed Susans were beginning to bloom, their long, bright yellow petals slowly unfolding to soak up the sun.

I walked to the other side of the garden and saw the dahlias, still just tall stalks with more leaves than flowers. And then, I saw them, the snapdragons, in full bloom. Standing about three feet tall, their flowers were a mix of yellow, purple, and white. The blooms had a closed, lip-like shape, and bees buzzed in and out, drawn to their nectar. It was a sight of pure beauty.

I stood there in silence, simply admiring the beauty of nature. I grabbed my phone and took way too many pictures and videos to count. Then, I ran back inside to grab a large plastic cup and filled it with water. I returned to the garden and placed the cup on the ground next to the snapdragons. Taking out my pruners, I carefully cut my very first bunch of flowers to bring inside. I stripped the leaves from each stem and set the flowers gently in the cup of water.

As I held the plastic cup filled with snapdragons, I took a moment to feel gratitude for this simple, beautiful gift from nature. I can’t believe I actually did it, I thought to myself. I started all of these flowers from seed, and now they’re starting to bloom. The funny part is, I never planned to grow snapdragons. I picked up a packet from Menards because they were on sale and I had room in the garden.

I didn’t know anything about snapdragons, but I fell in love with them from the moment their tiny seeds started sprouting. Watching them grow from a speck of a seed to these beautiful, unique flowers was the bloom of my perseverance.

Gardening isn’t easy. It’s hard work, preparing the soil, dealing with pests, and, above all, requiring a lot of patience. There are days when you wonder if the effort is worth it, when it feels like nothing is growing at all. But then, moments like this happen: the reward of seeing something you’ve nurtured come to life and it all feels worth it.

And one of my favorite parts of having a garden? The bees. But I’ll save that story for another time.

In many ways, gardening has become a metaphor for life itself. It’s not just about the end result, but about enjoying the process, the dreaming, the hard work, and the hope that things will turn out as planned. But here’s the thing: sometimes, when you start working on your dreams, they take you somewhere unexpected and that’s okay. We often get so caught up in the outcome that we forget to be present for the journey.

There’s a quiet magic in being here, in every small moment: the first sprout, the dirt on your hands, the sunlight dancing on the petals. It’s easy to fixate on what’s next, on the finish line. But I’ve learned that the most fulfilling moments are the ones you don’t rush toward. It’s in the quiet satisfaction of simply being in the moment, dreaming and growing as you go. And that’s where the real beauty lies.

And remember, think happy thoughts!