2026 ~ The Summer of Second Chances

My therapeutic seed garden saved the summer.

One early autumn leaf hangs on the Italian Plum. Eager beaver, I commented to myself. But then I glanced at the date on my phone. We’re minutes away from the “ber months.” September, October, November, December. 

I like to call these the Brrrr Months. Because I’m a winter lover. Snowy days, good books, hot cups of tea vs. iced. When that doesn’t help - twice daily showers because it’s so freaking hot out here, I can’t cope.

Heliopsis has not received one drop of sprinkler water all summer long.

How hot? Well, take a look at this gal ~ worshipping the blazing sun. Eight-feet tall, balancing the weight of a record-breaking number of happy sunflowers. {Heliopsis, perennial, they’re called false sunflowers, but I don’t think that’s fair. Look at how hard she’s trying. Kinder to name her a Sunflower Tree.}

She doesn’t belong here. Neither do I. I guess you could say we’re making the best of it. In starkly different ways. I've never seen so many flowers. Perhaps she's under the delusion she’s back in Arizona. (Given the number of record-breaking, "dangerous high heat" days we've had this summer - she's not wrong about that.)

On our way to the Bear Claw Cabin!
You have to ride 4 different ski lifts to reach this restaurant, at the top of the Sundance resort.

At the end of May, I had full knee replacement surgery. 

For a variety of reasons ~ most importantly is how I wanted to keep up with my darling granddaughter. 

This was a happy surprise. Drifts of wild Larkspur appeared in the backyard this summer.
Seeds blown in from who knows where.

I don’t know if it’s like this everywhere but getting new knees is common where I live, in a ski resort. I s'pose that's because most of us “old timer” Park City residents fell in love with the same movie. When Peter Pan turns to Wendy and says: Repeat after me, let’s never grow up! We thought to ourselves… Yeah! That’s a great life plan! 

Which is how we ended up skiing so hard, so frequently and for so many years… that the whole town is lining up for new knees.

Yarrow ~ another drought tolerant, long-blooming, beauty.

I’ve never had surgery ~ so I was scared to death ~ and this is a grand example of why I oftentimes prefer the company of dogs, cats, and horses to people. Because they don't talk. Anyone who heard I was having this surgery was delighted to regale me with terrifying tales of suffering.

They’re right about that. Recovery is super painful. Though, they’re missing the most painful part of all.

Enduring an entire summer without gardening.

After knee surgery, I couldn't walk downstairs to my summer coffee spot.
Though I did receive a ton of compliments on these pink flowers, Dame's Rocket.
Just FYI? They're weeds. But if visitors don't know that, I'm not gonna tell 'em!

Imagine. Being in close proximity to your gardens, but you can't do a dang thing.

1) For the first six weeks, post-surgery, you can’t drive. Therefore, you cannot visit your favorite nursery and waste spend all kinds of money on exciting new perennials you do not need.

2) The new knee doesn’t like to bend, so you can’t pull weeds. Which. On one hand sounds rather heavenly but the weeds are still there. Dancing a jig, knowing full well I can’t get to them.

During my recovery time, I joined an online Hollyhock Lovers group.
We're sharing seeds ~ so I have big, big plans for this garden next summer.

Post-surgery, it took me 4 weeks to be able to walk down the steps to my gardens. So, I whiled away the recovery days by swearing so loudly, the neighbor asked if I was okay. I was sipping my coffee, at the top o’ those stairs, peering over the railing. Screaming oh goddammit! There’s another Canadian Thistle!

You know the thing about Canadian Thistles? In addition to being a noxious weed, their seeds can lie dormant for 30 years. Which means they’ve already outlived me and I’m still here.

The cool thing about Sunflowers is that they all bloom facing east.

I’m retired, now, but my lifelong career was that of Strategic Planner. Helping companies plan, research, look for the inevitable roadblocks that can turn a great idea into a bad idea in record time.

I can sum up my 25 years as a freelance marketing consultant in just a couple sentences. My job was to sit in meetings, listen to presentations, see the excitement on the teams’ faces. The team who clearly did not think this through. Just like the weeds in my garden, everyone in the room is dancing a happy jig. Then I say: Wait a minute.

And that's how I got the name Buzz Kill.

SURPRISE! We just left my backyard and now we're in Paris.
Because of the surgery, I didn't take too many flower photos this year.
But I traveled like crazy! And that's another reason why the old knee said enough's enough.

 

It was my strategic planning brain that saved the summer. Thinking ahead, to preserve my sanity, I hoisted a whole bunch of new planters onto the big deck. No stairs. Even better? Softer soil. No weeds! No deer saying: Why thank you, that brand new flower you just purchased was delicious!

Rather than destroy the old house on this property when they began construction...
This hotel, outside Paris, hoisted the farm house to the top of the building. The house is now a fabulous restaurant.

Before my knee surgery, I filled the deck planters with soil, set up a hose out there, purchased a ton of quick-growing annual seeds. And then I waited.

Because I had no idea how I would feel during recovery. Surely there will come a day when the sun is shining while I’m hobbling around in my walker fantasizing about killing myself and just how would one go about doing that and make it look like an accident. Plus who would adopt my dumb pets? My cats are a-holes and whenever I’m petting dog, Teddy, I sing that song: If I only had a brain…

We spent a lot of time in Rothenberg (Bavaria.) Some of it was shopping, oh my gosh they had cool stuff.
But most of our time was spent searching for our car. Doesn't help that every damn rental is white.
* It's a walled city, so we walked the top of the wall for hours trying to figure out which parking lot we originally chose. 

Sure enough, post surgery misery kicked in rather quickly. Planting day arrived much sooner than expected. Took no time at all to start focusing entirely on my deck containers. My brand new garden!!! Content to leave the “real” gardens to their own devices.

Neuschwanstein ~ down in the village where we were staying.
And yes. The pastures are that green!

If I wasn’t so self-conscious, I’d share pictures of me in my walker, thinning the seedlings in my planters. I was out there every single morning. It gave me purpose, it made me happy. It got me thinking about how gardening could, and should, be an activity we do no matter what our physical abilities. 

And that includes me. I don't have nearly as much energy toward this property as I did 23 years ago, when I bought it.

Linderhof Palace, north of Munich.

I hear a lot of talk about Blue Zones, these days. Healthy places where people live very long lives simply by doing what they love to do. Everybody wants to move to one of those places. But why? You could easily create your own blue zone, wherever you live. And I think I just did.

We visited Europe twice this year. In autumn, goofing around at the castles,
getting hopelessly lost in the Black Forest + visiting the Cuckoo clock capital of the world. So fun.
Returning early December for the Christmas Markets in Switzerland. Even more fun.

Been pondering, long and hard, about selling my house. It used to be a labor of love; it’s quite enjoyable puttering in your gardens when the weather is a balmy 82 degrees throughout the entire summer. But we don’t get balmy days anymore. Nowadays our summers are so hot, this place has been renamed Hell’s Half Acre.

Bye-bye Europe. Now we're in Belize.

The big surprise, during this beastly hot summer, was seeing how well the “real gardens” ~ the flowers planted in the soil, not containers ~ faired without me. Yeah. I was throwing a fit about Canadian Thistle. There is one spot that will always torment me. But for the most part, those gardens looked great. Filled with feisty long-lived and long-blooming perennials, drought tolerant, tougher than most of the weeds foolishly thinking they’ve got a shot. They flourished during this hellscape summer. They did just fine. Without me.

That’s when I said to myself: Well, lookee there. I’m off the hook. 

That dot below the arrow is me. Climbing to the top of a Mayan Temple.
Reason #87 why I ended up having knee surgery this year. 😊

Part of me wants to sell the house because I no longer have the energy to keep up with those big gardens. It’s a lot of work and I don’t wanna do it anymore. But maybe I don't have to. Because I absolutely loved the manageable aspect of that container garden. I want to do that every summer!

We're on our way home now. Here in the Cotswolds I discovered my dream house.
I wouldn't be on the fence, at all, about selling my own house.
If I could afford to live happily ever after in a fairy tale cottage like this one.

The talk around this weekend’s campfire wine bottle was how we’ve changed, now that we’re officially old. (I typed it like that because we haven’t been allowed to gather around a live campfire in years. It’s a tinderbox out here.)

I’ve been feeling the pressure, says B. Like. If I don’t do things now, I might not ever get to.

Me, too, I responded. And I think we can blame Oprah for this. 

I was only half-joking. If you’re old enough to remember the 20th century you may recall how she popularized bucket lists. I made one, everyone made one, mine’s not done, yours probably isn’t either. 

This spring, we followed the bloom times of the California wildflowers from far south to San Fran.
But it was the Botanical Gardens that truly blew me away.

Every year, it gets harder for me to find people to travel with. And that's why I finally got up the nerve to try out one of those small group, women only, travel companies. It felt like a scary gamble. Though it only took about 5 minutes to make a few new lifelong friends. Because. If you think about it. You have a lot in common with those women before you even meet them. They’re here because they want to see and do the same things you do. 

Boating beneath Niagra Falls. That's me in the pink.

If you find yourself in the same boat, I would highly recommend one of these small group women's only tours. Yeah, you’re gonna feel nervous, shy, and possibly a little weird at first. I know I did. But that little bit of discomfort? It’s a sure fire sign you’re on the right track. To opening new doors while enjoying some beautiful places in the company of like-minded friends.

So there ya have it. All kinds of great reasons why I needed a new knee! Because this year I did a truly fantastic job of wearing out the old one.

The Summer of '25

The big projects for this season were 1) rebuild the old deck & 2) sit out there all afternoon.
{Mission accomplished!}

Deathly still in the garden this morning. Not a breath of air. The occasional chirp of an optimistic chickadee. The lazy buzz of a weary bumble bee, flitting through the Hollyhocks ~ too hot, too tired, to work very hard. Lots of my perennials feel the same, many have given up. Shifting into survival mode. Relentless heat taking it's toll. [These photos were snapped throughout the season. This summer's greatest hits.] 

93 degrees. It hasn't rained in 48 days.

It wouldn't be summertime without a few Heavenly Blues.

I'm pretty worn out, too. I think you have to live with severe drought, in order to understand how it messes with your mood. For me, green makes everything feel better. More normal, less dire. And cooler, too! Crunching through a dead field where the horses can’t find a blade of grass to nibble on, where the only happy critter is a grasshopper… Well, that’s no fun. Though that's where we're at, during this hot mean season.

The heat has been relentless. The monsoons passed us by. Not a drop of rain.

In spite of all that… I’m calling this a truly terrific summer.

Heat-loving Yarrow

Stayed home all season, which is highly unusual for me. Enjoying the peace and contentment of sitting still. Having learned our lessons from prior years, we’re vacationing in late autumn. When, hopefully, the crowds of tourists, on vacation, have already gone home. [Hmmm... what are the odds?] That free time felt so peaceful ~ and it's a big reason why the gardens were looking extra pretty this year.

A summer where I started early, with a lengthy list of big fun projects. And I got most of them done!

Italian Heather. Didn't know there was such a thing.
Just FYI? I killed this so fast. Dead within a week of transplanting. A new bad gardener record!

Last night. When I stepped out of the shower, I saw something brand new. And quite surprising.   

Is… that… a… muscle? I asked myself, while looking in the mirror. Both naked arms bent above and behind my head, futzing with barrettes to clip back my wispy hair. Wow. Both upper arms missing the flabby skin from yesteryear. Both sporting well-defined muscles. I guess I have succeeded with one improvement during this let’s lose 20 pounds, or gain 5, as is my lot in life, blue collar summer. Three cheers for one fabulous success story. Or. Let’s make it two.

Wild 4 o'clocks. The most waterwise perennial in my garden.
She's not actually in my garden, she lives in the ditch, in front of my house.
But I still take credit for her gorgeous flowers.

The side-of-the-house garden (yes, I know, that's kind of a lame name) has rarely looked more beautiful. A joy to the senses as I hand-watered the hard to reach spots, oohed and aahed over the first Hollyhock blossoms. People often ask what’s my favorite color. It’s typically beyond their level of comprehension when I reply: My favorite color is the color of the flower that I'm looking at right now.

Like this morning. When I fell madly in love with Miss Hollyhock’s Petal Pink. Wondering if, perhaps, my complexion has changed after all these long years and maybe now I can wear petal pink. [That's still a big no.]

We've got Columbines coming out our ears this summer.
Tip: If you deadhead they will bloom all season long.

Every fun discovery in the gardens, prompts another project. Seeing the gangly Hollyhock, taller than me, optimistically hoping she could outgrow the aspen tree… I trimmed aspen branches to gift her more sunshine. 

Heirloom roses

All the while enjoying the subtle, yet quite delightful, scent of the John Cabot Roses, who bloom all summer, in spite of the heat. An entire hot pink wall – 8 feet tall and 10 feet wide. [How did that happen? Covid, that's how! There was nothing else to do so I planted a wall of roses.]

When the winds rustled the branches, it looked like a hundred pink butterflies, fluttering in the breeze. My blouse covered in rose petals.

John Cabot Roses bloom all summer long.

On hot exhausting days. Which has been pretty much all of them. My gardens look like a rag tag mess of bright color, with no planning whatsoever. Overly critical people (is there any other kind these days?) will often ask: why did you plant these perennials in this strange place? 

What makes you think I had anything to do with this? Quite a few of them planted themselves. 

The weeds wouldn’t be nearly so difficult to manage if I laid down fabric and mountains of mulch. But if I did that, important seeds couldn't take root. The wildflower ladies, who reseed themselves, make or break this garden every season. 

Wild Blue Penstemon

Such as the sky blue wild Penstemon - seeds snitched from the Yellowstone backcountry on that glorious week long trail ride with my horse, Sable. Just a handful of seeds, pilfered when no one was looking. This stunning blue wildflower has birthed at least 50 offspring plants, because I gifted her the freedom do whatever she pleases. 

Hollyhocks reseed themselves, too.
Tip: Avoid purchasing packages of seed; they rarely do well.
Collect seeds from friends and neighbors. Or me. I'll send you some, just let me know.

Like cats, you can’t really tell a wildflower what to do. She will survive, or not, as she wishes. I can begin with what I feel is the right location, but chances are pretty good she’ll reject my hospitality. I scatter the seeds, cross my fingers and hope she appreciates the home I have provided for her.

Paintbrush (pruinosa)
* Careful with this one; she's parasitic.

And even when she does appreciate the spot I have chosen, that doesn’t mean she’ll come back in the same place every year. 

Last season, half of the Penstemon decided to bloom beneath the garden bench. Preventing me from sitting out there and enjoying all my hard work. This year, the pink Columbines have chosen to sprout in cracks in the sidewalk. Of which I have many. 

Russian Sage loves the heat.

The wild Asters and - yes I bought one but now I have dozens - Russian Sage literally walked away from the well-watered garden bed, preferring to bloom in the bone dry dirt on the outside of the fence. 

And those Hollyhocks? I think they’re on a mission to abandon my yard entirely. Every year, they move farther west. Possibly eyeing the vast meadow across the road from me.

I  💜 Volunteers!
These little cuties are annuals, but they reseed and re-fill my planter every summer. Never need to buy more.

The term “any way the wind blows” was more than likely invented by a wildflower gardener. Because we’re not in charge and rarely consulted. 

Wild Chamomile + hybridized Kniphofia Flamenco

Though some years it comes together so beautifully that it’s almost like the plants held a big group meeting. Hammered out a clever strategic plan and ~ for once in their long lives ~ obeyed the timetable. Flowers unfolding at the same time. In all the right places.

Knautia Macedonica ~ Not a Pincushion Flower, though they look like twins.

As I dash back and forth amongst the blossoms, dodging the hummingbirds, avoiding the bees, grinning at the butterflies, snapping dozens and dozens of photos… it’s almost like I can hear ‘em whisper. Don’t get too excited. This garden will look totally different. Same time. Next year.

I will leave you with my $250.00 tomatoes. All 6 of them. I felt they needed a really fancy planter in order to do well. But this is all I got for my trouble. Honestly, I don't even know why I bother.

Here's hoping you're enjoying a marvelous gardening season.

The Start of the Season

It is the last day of May. And spring has finally arrived in the mountains. 

We're lightyears behind gardeners in kinder climates. Who are likely showing off landscapes filled with brightly blooming flowers. But we're getting there. And it's nice to step outside in the early mornings - to photograph what's happening.

Heavenly Blue Morning Glories are flowering like crazy! They should be. I planted them in January. 😊 That's snow in the background. These beauties are toasty warm, flowering in the sunny window. It's a well-known fact that we cannot control the weather -- but there are lots of ways to wiggle around what Mother Nature has to offer. 

Jack Frost (aptly named) Brunnera doesn't care about the nasty weather. Often the first flower to bloom in my garden. Tiny little things. Smaller than my thumbnail. [Plant in full shade.]

And wild Meadow Phlox doesn't care about the drought. 

Which is a good thing -- because, climate-wise, it's been weird around these parts. Snowing and freezing in late May. Beastly hot and dry in April. So hot, I would have turned on the a/c - it was 85 (f) degrees in this house. But the a/c was still buried beneath a drift of snow! 

The volatile weather might be why the Flowering Almonds have decided it's time to kill themselves.

While it was raining, then snowing, then freezing.. I attended a Floral Arrangement class with my daughter.

That was so much fun. This is my masterpiece. ↑

Plus - I learned something super helpful about cut flowers. Dissolve a couple tablespoons of sugar + the same amount of white vinegar into a quart of water. Cut flowers will last a lot longer.

And we welcomed a new furry friend into the fold. 

It has been a hard, hard year for me. My dog, Charlie, passed away from what vets are calling the 'mystery illness.' Plaguing dogs in 14 western states. 

That just tore me to pieces. The only time I was in touch with my emotions was when I lost my temper with well-meaning friends saying life goes on. I don't want life to go on. I want life to go back to the way it was before. 

But loneliness has a way of changing your mind about those things. And when this little guy was dropped into my lap. By another one of these well-meaning aka incredibly annoying + far too controlling friends. I decided to keep him.

The view from my window. The view from up here.

Here's hoping the weather is kind and your gardens are brightly blooming.

Utah Tulip Festival

* Scroll to the bottom of this post for tips on visiting the Utah Tulip Festival.

On the one sunny day, in between the recent rains, I took a long drive to tiptoe through 55 acres of Tulips. 

I can count on one hand the number of Tulips blooming in my own garden - that number is one. ↑ This one. Because it's cleverly hidden in a planter on a second story deck so critters can't reach it, to eat it.

Here, in Utah, we have what is called a burrowing ground squirrel, who dearly loves to eat my Tulips. Locals call this animal a Pot Gut. Every spring I like to call them little bastards. 

Hence the motivation to drive to Lehi, Utah, to the Thanksgiving Point Tulip Festival.

If you and your friends have ever entertained the notion of taking a spring Tulip Trip, you might want to pay Utah a visit. 

Logistically, it's so much easier than the Michigan Tulip Festival. < Which is a great festival! 

The Utah Festival involves lots less driving.

We're not nearly as impressive as the Keukenhof Gardens. But like I said. Logistics! You don't have to fly to the Netherlands to enjoy the pretty flowers.

I have maybe 200 tulip pics clogging up my phone at the present moment. Thought you might enjoy taking a peek at some of the better ones.

If you're planning to visit this season - hurry up. Tulips are blooming 30 days ahead of schedule. Some are already past peak bloom time. 

We've had a hot, dry spring which does not bode well for the upcoming gardening season. 

Took this day trip, immersing myself in these beautiful flowers, because I think it's a really good idea to get out of your head now and then.

Last night, a young woman in her 20's, sent out what sounded, to me, like a distress call. [From the tone of her voice.] 

"Women over 40 give one piece of advice to women in their 20's." 

Tiktok being the place that it is... responses included Women's Rights protests, Israel-Hamas war protests, political marches, product and company bans. All worthy causes. [Just FYI - the GardenTok part of Tiktok is wonderful. I learn a new trick every time I watch their videos.]

I told her to breathe.  

Naturally no one listened to me. Americans are very angry. They have every right to be. But it can feel exhausting. And I still feel I have a valid point. 

Breathe. Ignore the news for the entire day. Take a walk among the tall trees. Or better yet. A flower field. 

It is very, very easy to become overwhelmed with the negativity in the news, all around the world, right now. And while I don't believe it's wise to behave like those proverbial Ostriches -- who have never, ever, put their heads in the sand. I do believe it's important to Breathe. To take a deep breath. And step outside. Enjoy the simple beauty that surrounds you.

You might be surprised how good that makes you feel.

TIPS: Utah Tulip Festival AKA Thanksgiving Point Tulip Festival. Located 30 miles from the Salt Lake City airport.

• Plug ASHTON GARDENS into your phone for directions. If you use Thanksgiving Point, phone maps will send you to the wrong place.
• Resist the urge to arrive at 10:00 a.m. Everybody shows up at that time, parking can be a nightmare.
• Allow at least 3 hours to see all the beautiful flowers they have to offer.
• And make darn sure.. you set aside extra time to have lunch at the Trellis Cafe.