🌱 5 Garden Lessons That Surprised Me This Year

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Real reflections from a year of heat, failure, grace, and unexpected growth
🌿 Opening: What I Thought I Knew
Every year I step into the garden with a plan. And every year, it humbles me.
This one? It stretched me sideways. I fought the heat, learned what bolting really looks like, lost more squash than I want to admit, and tried to coax beauty from half-forgotten corners. I kept waiting for a smooth rhythm to arrive, and what came instead were moments—uninvited, unscripted, and surprisingly wise.
These five lessons weren’t cute or tidy. They were real. And I’m sharing them because I think you might have learned something similar in your own dirt-stained way.
1️⃣ Lesson One: I Can’t Out-Plan the Heat
I planted spring crops later than I should have and tried to squeeze in “just one more harvest” from my spinach. But Houston had other plans. That heat wave hit fast, and everything bolted at once. Lettuce, cilantro, radishes—done.
At first, I felt frustrated. Like I’d failed because I didn’t time things perfectly. But the truth is: the weather doesn’t follow my chart. And the longer I garden, the more I realize my job isn’t to outsmart the heat. It’s to pay attention, adjust, and stop pretending I’m in control.
What I’m doing now:
- Planting more heat-tolerant greens (malabar spinach, roselle, longevity spinach)
- Building in more shade early—especially for beds near the fence line
- Journaling harvest dates instead of just planning them
Related post: Heat-Tolerant Greens for Summer Gardening
2️⃣ Lesson Two: Some Plants Are Just Done—and That’s Okay
I have a hard time pulling up things. I tend to leave tired tomato plants in the ground long past their prime, hoping they’ll give me “just one more.” This year, I held onto a jalapeño bush that had clearly given its all—and it ended up harboring pests and taking space I could’ve used better.
There’s something deeply emotional about clearing space in a garden. But I’m learning that wise stewardship means letting go. You don’t keep every plant forever. Some are done. Some served their season. And it’s okay to thank them—and move on.
What I’m doing now:
- Adding a “when to clear” note to my planting journal
- Pulling things up with intention instead of guilt
- Making compost out of what I couldn’t keep
Related post: What to Plant After Your Beans Finish
3️⃣ Lesson Three: The Garden Doesn’t Always Feel Good
Some seasons, the garden is therapy. Other times? It’s just… hot. Messy. Overgrown. I had several weeks this summer where I didn’t want to go outside. The ants were out, the weeds were up, and I didn’t feel particularly inspired.
That used to make me feel guilty—like I wasn’t being a “real” gardener if I didn’t feel awe every time I stepped out the door. But this year, I gave myself grace. I realized: I can love gardening deeply and still feel tired of it sometimes.
What I’m doing now:
- Short morning walks, even when I don’t want to “work” in the garden
- Writing down one thing I notice, not just what I need to do
- Creating a space to rest in the garden, not just labor
Related post: Creating a Summer Garden Observation Habit
4️⃣ Lesson Four: Letting the Kids Help Means Letting Go of Control
We planted zinnias this year, and I let the kids sprinkle the seeds. I didn’t correct them when they poured too many in one spot or dropped some on the path. I just watched.
Later, when the zinnias came up, I laughed. Some were perfect rows. Others were clumped like confetti. But you know what? The ones planted with joy bloomed just as brightly.
This surprised me—not because I didn’t know seeds would sprout, but because it reminded me what I really want to cultivate: joy, participation, presence. Not control.
What I’m doing now:
- Giving the kids their own “chaos bed” to plant freely
- Letting go of symmetry in favor of beauty
- Writing down what they say as they plant—because their words are seeds too
5️⃣ Lesson Five: Some Years, You Grow More Inside Than Out
This was not my most productive garden. I lost track of dates. I planted too late. Some things didn’t grow at all. But you know what? I grew.
I learned to rest when it was too hot. I prayed more slowly. I noticed butterflies I’d missed before. I stopped apologizing for imperfection and started honoring presence. And in that way, this may have been one of my best gardening years yet.
What I’m doing now:
- Writing short grace notes in my garden journal
- Reframing “failure” as feedback
- Giving thanks—for every harvest, but also for every moment that didn’t turn out the way I planned
📝 Free Printable: 5 Garden Lessons Reflection Page
This printable journal page includes:
- A space for each lesson
- A “plant it forward” section: what you’ll change next year
- A scripture line to anchor your reflections
- Room for one image, sketch, or quote that captures your year
🔗 Other Helpful Posts
- Replanting Gaps for Continuous Harvests
- Troubleshooting Blossom End Rot
- How to Know If Your Soil Needs a Boost
📖 Looking for a More Grounded Garden Rhythm?
In my eBook Rooted in Grace, I walk through how gardening can be soul work—not just food work. If you’re craving a slower, more meaningful approach to tending your space, I wrote this for you.
🌺 Grace Note
The garden doesn’t always surprise you with fruit. Sometimes, it surprises you with yourself.
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