I’m the type of person who doesn’t like to just see grass—I know, I know, unpopular opinion—but I love flower beds. The less I—or I should also say, my husband—mows, the better.
I just don’t want to see a sea of green.
I want colors. I want flowers. I want bugs flying around. I want butterflies. I want birds stopping by. I want it to feel alive.
So here we were in a new house about four years ago, and it was a blank slate.
Perfect!
I can do whatever I want.
I didn’t have any grand flower-bed plans in mind. I just knew I wanted to transform one section of the yard into a garden.
The area I chose was a downhill slope on the side of our driveway. For the most part, it was sunny. Perfect. I could plant my Asiatic and Oriental lilies, hydrangeas, coneflowers, Black-eyed Susans, and whatever else caught my eye.
I looked at Pinterest posts on how I should plant everything.
Tall ones in the back. Shorter ones in the front.
Got it.
So my husband and I tilled the area, and then came the fun part: planting.
My son and I planted the lily and gladiolus bulbs, then we bought some starter plants to put in the middle and front of the garden.
Now, I don’t know about some ladies going to garden centers, but I go in there with a list in my mind.
And once I’m there, I get so overwhelmed with all my choices that I come home with more than what’s on my list.
And if I’m being completely honest, the plants on my list aren’t even the things I end up buying.
So here they are, stuck with me.
One of the things I’ve learned is that no matter how gorgeous lupines are, they will not grow in my yard.
I tried them one year, and sadly, they didn’t come back the next year.
I didn’t know what I did—or didn’t do—but I guess I just had to accept that, sadly, lupines weren’t meant for my yard.
Then there were the lilies.
One thing I didn’t anticipate was that some lilies can grow as tall as six feet, while others stay around two or three feet.
Did I take that into consideration while my son and I were planting the bulbs?
No.
Of course not.
So here they are, all coexisting beside each other, with some as tall as my husband and others short enough to be closer to my height.
So much for tall ones in the back and short ones in the front.
And that’s really how this garden began.
Not with a carefully designed plan. Not with a perfectly coordinated color palette or a detailed planting map.
Just a blank space, a shovel, a whole lot of enthusiasm, and a tendency to come home from the garden center with plants I never intended to buy.
But somewhere along the way, something changed.
I started paying more attention to what was happening in the garden.
I noticed the butterflies.
The bees moving from flower to flower.
The birds visiting.
The little creatures I had never really thought much about before.
And eventually, I became especially interested in monarchs and native plants.
I started thinking less about simply filling my garden with pretty flowers and more about creating a place where something could actually live.
A place that could provide food for caterpillars, nectar for butterflies and bees, and a little bit of shelter for the creatures that make a garden feel alive.
My garden is far from perfect.
There are plants that didn’t make it. Plants that grew much bigger than I expected. Areas that don’t get enough sun. Areas that get too much water. And plenty of things I’m still trying to figure out.
But I think that’s what makes gardening interesting.
A garden is never really finished.
There is always something to learn, something unexpected to discover, and occasionally, something that comes back when you were sure it wouldn’t.
So that’s what I’ll be sharing here.
Not a perfectly landscaped garden, but a garden in progress.
I’ll share the plants I’m growing, the butterflies and other visitors that find their way here, the things I’m learning about native plants and creating a more welcoming habitat, and, undoubtedly, some of my gardening mistakes along the way.
Because if I’ve learned anything in these past four years, it’s that gardening doesn’t always go according to plan.
And maybe that’s the best part.
What started as a simple attempt to get rid of some grass has turned into something I never really expected—a little corner of the world that feels more alive every year.
And I think that’s a pretty good place to begin.
