Crown of Flowers: Looking back on a year in my garden from May to October.
When I first started arranging flowers, I had no idea what I was doing. My early attempts were... let’s just say, ambitious but chaotic—stems too short, colours clashing and flowers wilting before I could figure out what went wrong.
Yet each misstep only fueled my curiosity. As the seasons changed, so did my skills. I found myself moving beyond plunking blooms in a vase to understanding the rhythm of the garden and the personalities of each flower.
Early spring greeted me with soft pastels—dainty snowdrops, hellebores, alliums, foxgloves and delicate columbines. Those early arrangements were simple, almost timid. Some even came with unexpected guests—tiny bugs hitching a ride indoors, which I quickly learned to shake out.
By the time summer rolled in, my designs became bolder, following the garden’s lead as the blooms exploded into colour. Zinnias, cosmos and hot pink phlox demanded attention, while crocosmia added drama with its fiery red-orange sprays.
Along the way, I experimented—once trying floral foam, only to discover it wasn’t for me. The stainless-steel floral frog, however, became my secret weapon, holding stubborn stems exactly where I wanted them. I also learned that not all flowers play nice together. Some drooped before others had a chance to shine, forcing me to rethink how to layer blooms with varying lifespans
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What started as random bunches of flowers soon felt like living art. Each arrangement became a reflection of my garden’s changing mood—from the soft whispers of spring to the wild energy of summer. My “Crown of Flowers” evolved with each season, and in the process, so did I—finding joy not just in the blooms themselves, but in the creative journey of arranging them.
Reflections on a year in the garden
It’s been quite a year of change for my garden, and for me too, actually. I always find myself reflecting on the past year in autumn, rather than at new year. I think it’s because the gardening season is coming to an end, and most plants are going into dormancy. Perhaps this is the time of year when all gardeners get a bit reflective.
The wins
This year’s garden burst with vibrant life.
Foxgloves towered elegantly, while zinnias thrived through the heat, painting the beds with their bold hues. Cosmos danced delicately in the breeze, drawing in bees and butterflies. The dill, with its feathery fronds, added a soft, textured touch. Sweet alyssum carpeted the ground with delicate white flowers, and tight marigold clusters worked overtime to suppress weeds, keeping the beds neat and vibrant.
Native planting successes and pollinator paradise
This year, my garden thrived with Butterfly weed, milkweed, swamp milkweed, Joe Pye Weed, Monarda and Cup plant. These natives didn’t just add beauty—they turned the garden into a buzzing pollinator hotspot. Watching the precious few Monarch butterflies drawn to the milkweed for nectar and egg-laying, along with constant visits from bees and beneficial insects, brought the garden to life.
The Monarda (bee balm), with its fiery red blooms, was a hummingbird favourite all season long. Its long bloom time kept the garden vibrant and active from summer through early fall.
Native shrubs like elderberry, serviceberry, chokeberry and choke cherry were also stars, attracting birds with their berries and providing essential late-season food. These shrubs are more than eye-catching—they’re part of a year-round ecosystem supporting wildlife. I can’t wait to build on this success next year!
One of the biggest challenges came unexpectedly—Hydro One cleared native plants and cedar seedlings beneath the hydro easement on my property without notice, disrupting the wildlife that relied on this space.
After voicing my concerns, Hydro One agreed to re-seed the area with a native prairie mix, offering hope for a restored, pollinator-friendly habitat. This restoration project has been a reminder that setbacks—though difficult—can be used as an opportunity to restore the landscape.
Many residents with Hydro One easements may not realize they can request more ecologically sensitive management. By engaging with Hydro One, it's possible to create spaces that benefit both wildlife and hydro operations, rather than defaulting to invasive clearing.
The great sunflower disappointment
Like many gardeners, I have a special obsession with sunflowers. Their towering stalks and bold blooms are always a sight to behold, so I had high hopes for growing my own black-oil sunflowers this year, imagining a vibrant feast for the birds throughout the season. I scattered pounds of seeds across the garden, anticipating a landscape full of tall, cheerful blooms.
Unfortunately, the local wildlife had their own plans. The bunnies and chipmunks that frequent the area are just as obsessed with sunflower seeds as I am, and they severed the young seedlings before they had a chance to develop. As a result, only a dozen sunflowers managed to grow.
Though it was a bit of a disappointment, the sunflowers that did survive were absolutely gorgeous and next year, I’m determined to try again!
This is, of course, the nature of gardening. Nothing stays the same, and things are always changing. The knowledge that everything in your garden will continue to grow and evolve builds one’s resilience, and is surprisingly reassuring.
For now, though, I’m enjoying the newness of autumn, which has just landed. Everything is soggy, the mornings are misty, water droplets cling to spiders’ webs and the leaves are turning and falling. Our chimney has been swept and the logs stacked. I’m looking forward to cozy evenings spent in front of the wood-burning stove.
There are a few garden jobs still to do – I’ve got golden cedars to transplant, canna rhizomes to dig up and store but I’m putting limits on myself to a quantity of no more than 25. And now is a good time to dig up horseradish root after the first frost. Pungent and delicious!
Apart from that, there isn’t much to do until next spring except tidy up the greenhouse and gardening tools and prepare to watch the garden descend into beautiful decay.
Closing thoughts: Plant seeds, not stress
Planning a garden, tending it with care, and finally putting it to bed for the winter is hands down a better use of time than spiraling into the madness of American (and Canadian) politics. Let’s be real—scrolling through endless debates and outrage doesn’t feed your soul or your soil. But planting seeds, building pollinator havens and dreaming up next season’s blooms? Now that’s power.
In the garden, every choice you make creates change—real, tangible change that the earth feels. Every weed you pull, every bed you mulch, every flower you plant to lure in hummingbirds and bees is a radical act of connection. It’s you saying, “This is where my energy goes.” Not into shouting matches online, but into soil that’s alive, into plants that grow and into spaces that welcome life in all its forms.
Turn off the noise, and get to work planning next year's garden.The garden’s waiting, and it’s a far better place to make a difference.
All photos by Monika Rekola, except Trump cartoon by stablediffusionweb.
Monika Rekola is a certified landscape designer and horticulturist, passionate about gardening and sustainable living. As a budding homesteader and garden writer, she shares her love for recycling, repurposing and birdwatching. Monika is dedicated to ecological gardening, aiming to balance our delicate ecosystem. Contact her at [email protected].
