On garden plans and the unexpected therapy of soil.

“There’s something about putting your hands in the dirt that grounds you to the moment, to the earth, and to yourself.”

A couple of weeks ago, I shared that we are leaving the city. It still feels surreal to say, but here we are. More land, less noise, and me, suddenly dreaming in seed catalogues and wondering if I should be mulching… things.

At this point, you’re probably thinking I’ve completely lost it. One minute I’m in back-to-back meetings, the next I’m debating compost ratios and sketching garden layouts on grid paper like it’s a business plan. Honestly, I get it. It’s a shift. A big one. But somehow, this slower, soil-covered version of life is starting to feel a lot more like me.

Now, my gardening ambitions started out simple enough: maybe a tomato plant, a little basil. Something cute. Contained. But then things escalated quickly. Two raised beds became six. Then came the grid paper, the spreadsheet, 24 grow bags, and suddenly I’m 100 episodes deep into Gardeners World.

What started as a little experiment in growing food has become something much bigger: my therapy, my grounding, my way of settling into this new, quieter rhythm we’re building as a family.

So today, I thought I’d share what I’m planting this year. It’s slightly chaotic, definitely overambitious, and completely full of hope.

Vegetables

I have a vision of a root cellar packed with perfectly spaced, neatly labeled jars of home-canned vegetables. Naturally, that vision spiraled, and this vegetable section got wildly out of hand. But I’m leaning in, okay? I want shelves full of homemade tomato sauce, pickled everything, and enough preserved garden goodness to power us through the winter and bring a little taste of summer to those dark, cold February days.

Here’s what we’re growing on the vegetable front:

• Carrots

• Beets

• Lettuce

• Spinach

• Onion

• Radish

• Kale

• Peas

• Cilantro

• Swiss Chard (Kaleidoscope)

• Potato (Yukon Gold & Russian Blue)

• Sweet Potato

• Garlic (spring)

• Broccoli + broccolini

• Arugula

• Dill

• Beans (green and yellow)

• Cucumbers (regular and mini)

• Butternut Squash

• Tomatoes (large and cherry)

• Peppers (red, yellow and shishito)

• Sweet Corn

• Chives

• Rhubarb

I meant to buy all broccoli plants, but somehow ended up with a mix of broccoli and broccolini. I’m not mad about it. The kids are already loving snacking on spinach and chives straight from the garden, which feels like a small parenting win. I recently learned that to grow potatoes, you literally plant potatoes (wild, I know), and I’m still trying to crack the code on how to grow sweet potatoes. Stay tuned.

Fruits

So… I don’t entirely know how to care for fruit trees yet, but I’m trusting the process. And as if the universe was cheering me on, the warmer temps have revealed what is probably over 100 raspberry bushes throughout our new property, like a love note from the land itself. I told my oldest daughter we are going to have raspberries coming out of our ears. She exclaimed, “We can make raspberry juice!” and you know, I agree that is exactly what you should do when life gives you raspberries.

Here’s what else we’ve got going on in the fruit department:

• Strawberries

• Watermelon

• Cantaloupe

• Blueberries

• Raspberries

• Apples

• Pears

It is May, and our apple trees are starting to blossom, which has brought us all so much joy. A couple of the trees appear not to have survived the winter, but my friend Chantelle introduced me to a local nursery that sells bare-root fruit trees, and I am physically restraining myself from buying cherry and peach trees to replace them.

Flowers

Growing up, one of my favourite things was walking through my grandmother’s garden. She’d often cut a single rose with her old garden scissors and place it in a tiny vase on the kitchen table, creating just enough beauty to brighten the whole room. I think about that a lot now, as I plan my own garden. Flowers may not feed us, but they nourish something just as important. They bring softness, colour, and a little bit of magic to the everyday.

Peonies and roses are where I’m starting, a nod to my Grandma Fern, and a promise to always leave room for beauty.

We’ve also had a few random pink and yellow tulips pop up in the lawn and garden beds this spring, which has been another fun surprise.

Medicinal Herbs

I also have a vision of an old apothecary cabinet: creaky drawers, handwritten labels, rows of mason jars filled with dried herbs to soothe, calm, and heal just about everything under the sun.

Of course, I’m still very much learning what does what (and when and how), but there’s something deeply comforting about growing these plants. Whether or not I ever become Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, I like the idea of building a little backyard medicine cabinet, one healing leaf at a time.

Here’s what I’m growing and what each one is (allegedly) good for:

• Bergamot: Stress and digestion support.

• Chamomile: Calming, anti-inflammatory.

• Mint: Soothing for digestion and headaches. (Does anyone know where I could find apple or chocolate mint?)

• Lavender: Great for sleep, stress, and DIY bath salts.

• Lemon Balm: Known for its uplifting and anxiety-reducing properties.

• Echinacea: Good for cold season and feeling like you’re winning at holistic health.

• Oregano: Antimicrobial, antiviral, and helpful for respiratory health.

• Sage: Grounding, clarifying. (Can’t wait to burn a little when the vibes are off.)

• Thyme: For coughs, colds, and homemade soups.

• Basil: Anti-inflammatory and the taste of summer.

• Red Raspberry Leaf: uterine health and menstrual support.

And so, there you have it. My 2025 garden plan. It’s equal parts beginner’s optimism and dirt-stained chaos. I’m learning about spacing and succession planting, while wondering what exactly is nibbling holes in my rhubarb plants. I’ve already overwatered things, planted too close together, and panicked over soil fertility (yep, that’s a thing). And I have so much more to learn. But I’m in it. With muddy boots, four colours of overalls on deck (because fashion), and the biggest smile.

Stay tuned to see how my garden grows.

As always, thank you for reading. And before you go, I’d love for you to subscribe. It’s the best way to follow along with my journey without the noise of social media. It lets me keep sharing these stories in the slow, intentional way they’re meant to be told, straight from our Farmhouse to your inbox.