Every year I start my garden with a little bit of excitement and probably a little too much confidence. I plant the seeds, make plans for where everything will go, and convince myself that this will be the year I stay completely caught up with the weeds.
And every year, the garden teaches me something different.
This year, one of the things I’m most proud of is something I never expected to be quite such a huge accomplishment: I harvested around 200 pounds of green beans. When I think about that number, I can’t help but think about how many tiny seeds went into producing all of that food. There were plenty of hot days, sore muscles, weeds, bugs, and moments when picking beans felt like it would never end, but seeing those harvests pile up made all of the work feel worthwhile.
My favorite vegetable to grow, though, will always be broccoli. This year I planted 100 broccoli plants, which sounds a little crazy when I say it out loud, but there is something about growing broccoli that I absolutely love. Watching those little plants develop into big, beautiful heads of broccoli is so rewarding. I think part of what makes it special is that broccoli requires patience. You don’t plant it today and get to pick it tomorrow. You have to keep showing up and caring for it.
And that’s probably one of the biggest things my garden taught me this year, the importance of showing up.
Not every day is exciting. Some days the garden is beautiful, and other days I’m staring at a jungle of weeds wondering what in the world I was thinking when I planted so much. There are plants that thrive, plants that struggle, and plants that simply don’t work out no matter how much effort you put into them.
This year I also tried things I had never grown before, including kohlrabi, noodle beans, and Swiss chard. I love that gardening gives me an excuse to be curious. There is always another variety to try, another vegetable to learn about, and another seed packet that somehow finds its way into my collection. Cucamelons have turned into a staple for my household.
That’s one of my favorite parts of gardening: there is always something new to learn.
One of the most satisfying moments of the season isn’t necessarily one specific harvest. It’s those little moments when I stop and realize, I grew this.
I grew food from a tiny seed.
I watched it grow.
I watered it. I weeded around it. I protected it. I picked it.
And then I got to put it on my family’s table.
There is something incredibly meaningful about that.
Gardening has changed the way I look at food. I don’t just see a vegetable anymore. I see the time, work, weather, patience, and care that went into growing it. When I walk outside and decide what we’re having for dinner based on what needs to be picked, it feels completely different from simply going to the grocery store.
And then there is the sharing.
One of the greatest gifts of having a big garden is being able to have more than my family can eat and share that abundance with other people. There is something special about handing someone food that you grew yourself. It feels like sharing a little piece of your time and hard work with them.
Of course, if I could go back and plant this same garden again, there are definitely things I would do differently. I would probably plant a little more strategically and give myself a little more room between some things. I have learned that winter-me has a very different opinion about how much summer-me can realistically handle.
But maybe that’s part of the beauty of gardening.
You make plans.
You plant.
You work.
You make mistakes.
You learn.
And then you do it all over again.
As this season comes to an end, I think the biggest lesson I want to carry into next year is to slow down enough to appreciate what I’m growing while I’m growing it. It’s so easy to focus on the weeds that still need pulled, the plants that aren’t producing, or everything on the never-ending garden to-do list.
But sometimes I need to stop and look around.
At the broccoli.
At the beans.
At the beauty a garden has to offer.
At the baskets overflowing with things that started as tiny seeds.
At the fact that my garden produced hundreds of pounds of food this year.
And remember that none of that happened overnight.
It happened because I kept showing up.
That’s what I think my garden grew in me this year, not just vegetables, but patience, perseverance, curiosity, gratitude, and a deeper appreciation for where our food comes from.
The garden will never be perfect. Neither will I.
But every season, we both grow a little more.