The modern era of blogs, websites, and glossy magazines have given us an unending, indefatigable supply of information, photos, and opinions about gardening. Never has more information been so widely available. A side effect of this visual onslaught, however, is that most everything looks, well, perfect. Weedless gardens, blemish-free produce, and picturesque baskets of rainbow-hued garden abundance gleam from every corner, making it seem like gardening is always easy, successful, and Instagram-worthy.
In contrast, we may find ourselves with underproductive food plots, pest-riddled produce, and a sense of failure and disappointment. The real world isn’t a stock image; it’s a lot more nuanced, a lot more interesting, and a lot less perfect. It can be easy to get down on yourself and get the “I must have a black thumb” blues.
As a gardener with ample experience failing, messing up, planting too early, planting too late, and bringing not-so-pretty produce into the kitchen, I’d like to share some of my strategies for keeping my chin up and beating back garden disappointment.
Keep a Garden Journal
I’ve tried to grow cosmos in rich soil (no blooms), planted heat-loving okra in April, and grown squash in the same plot two years in a row (so many squash bugs). But I wrote down my mistakes and thus attempted to avoid living the aphorism that “those who refuse to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” I’ve found that the best way to manage such mistakes and still benefit from them is to record them in a garden journal.
This can be a simple blank book, a three-ring binder (what I prefer), a lined notebook, or whatever suits your fancy. There, record what cultivars you’ve tried, where you planted them, when you planted them, and any notes about how well or poorly they performed. Beyond that, add whatever information helps you in word, drawing, or photograph form. I always include three diagrams of my entire planting kingdom drawn for spring, summer, and fall plantings. This helps me rotate beds and maybe (just maybe) break even with the squash bugs.
Try a Different Cultivar
Sometimes, the variety we’ve chosen for our gardens wasn’t the best choice. Maybe we put long-rooted ‘Imperator’ carrots in stony, clay-ridden soil; squash-bug-attracting Hubbard squash in a garden prone to the life-sucking insects; or heat-loving ‘Congo’ melons in a Zone 4 garden. The results can be disappointing, to say the least.
If you face frustration, however, know that other gardeners who’ve gone before you also felt that frustration. In some cases, they didn’t get mad – they got creative instead. If you do some research, you’ll find ‘Parisian’ and ‘Oxheart’ carrots – two short-rooted carrot varieties that can still produce well in dense soil. Or, you may discover that some squash in the Cucurbita moschata species, such as butternut, are less prone to succumbing to squash bugs. Maybe you’ll even find a listing for early-maturing ‘Blacktail Mountain’ watermelons, which were developed by an Idaho teen who just really wanted watermelons, even though his area was unsuitable.
If you live in an area with weather extremes, pay special attention to varieties listed as heat-tolerant, drought-tolerant, fast-growing, or extra-early. Maybe success is just a (different) seed packet away.
Accept Unavoidable Failures
Some plants just won’t grow well in your area, no matter how hard you try. The first year on my Ozark homestead, I learned this the hard way. Having grown up in the colder north, I ordered dependable rhubarb roots to cultivate in my new home. I had no idea the Ozarks were too hot for rhubarb until the poor things withered and died. Sometimes, your garden failures are just unavoidable! Chalk them up as ignorance-quelling experiences.
Other times, deleterious events are completely beyond your control. Consider the heat dome of 2022. A blazing-hot, unmoving wave of hot temperatures gripped several states around and including my own, baking the land dry in a severe drought. We not only had no rain for more than a month, but we also had daily highs that exceeded 100 degrees Fahrenheit nearly every day. I learned, through discouraging experience, that many plants simply shut down in such conditions. They’ll either die or cease growing, and they won’t come out of their survival stasis until things improve. I had several crop failures that year, but I had to accept that it wasn’t my fault – at least, not this time.
Grow ‘Encouragement Plants’
I stubbornly try to organically grow eggplants every year, but I rarely have any success, given the flea beetles constantly thwarting my efforts. I experience frequent frustration with my winter squash, as my nonchemical methods for fighting squash bugs aren’t always effective. And don’t even get me started on cabbages – I’ve yet to get the timing right. Fall drought and unexpected snowstorms have, so far, taken any hope of fully formed cabbage heads. My inexperience, new garden soil, and relative ignorance of my new homestead’s climate have all given me setbacks that can really sap my morale.
Yet, I keep my spirits up with what I like to refer to as “encouragement plants.” These are the generally foolproof, quick-growing, or hardy champs that always seem to work out and offer a satisfying result quick enough to keep my hope boat afloat. In my area, radishes, bok choy, garlic, and zinnias always seem to have my back and remind me I’m not failing at everything in the garden. Find out what wants to grow in your food plot no matter what, and plant it as a reminder to keep your chin up.
Count ‘Soil-Growing’ Years as Progress
During the previously mentioned drought, I got very, very little from my biggest garden: a few mealy tomatoes, a handful of weird-shaped cucumbers, and some stunted okra. When I was bringing my measly harvest basket back into the house, shoulders slumped in defeat, my husband could see the dark cloud over my head (I could’ve used that in the sky instead!).
“You can’t control the drought,” he reminded me, “but you’ve added tons of compost to those beds and removed tons of rocks. This was a soil-growing year, even if it wasn’t a good food-growing year.”
His words had an encouraging effect on my spirit. Ever since then, I’ve tried to see all the effort that goes into making a food plot productive, even if the produce is lacking because of the weather, a mistake, or the newness of the garden itself.
You see, if you’re starting a new garden from the ground up (literally!), it won’t be at its best the first year. Or even the second year. Or the third. Gardens can take years of hard rock-removing, root-ripping, clay-combating, compost-curing work to become the productive, dependable plant beds of your dreams. If you, like me, have only been working on your soil for three years or so, there’s still lots of time to get it truly established. You’ll grow along with it.
Wren Everett and her husband quit their teaching jobs and moved their family to the Ozarks. There, they live off-grid, try to grow as much of their own food as possible, and work to rediscover the old skills of self-sufficiency.
Originally published as “Beat the Garden Blues” in the July/August 2024 issue of Grit magazine and regularly vetted for accuracy.
