finding new joy in the late summer garden slump
Every year, as August rolls in, I find myself wandering my backyard, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and frustration. My garden, once bursting with promise, now looks tired—just like I remember my mother’s did when I was a child in upstate New York. Back then, she’d sigh over wilting cucumbers and green tomatoes that refused to ripen, while I chased fireflies in the dusk. Now, I’m the one sighing, wondering if all this effort is worth it, especially when my neighbors’ perfectly trimmed lawns seem to mock my wild, half-faded beds.
It’s funny how gardening used to be about survival and tradition—my grandparents grew what they could, when they could, in tune with the unpredictable New England weather. Today, there’s pressure to have Instagram-worthy blooms and spotless veggie rows, but I find myself longing for the old ways, when a crooked tomato was a badge of honor, not a failure.
Lately, I’ve noticed more folks in my community debating whether we should stick to native plants for the sake of the environment, or indulge in the showy annuals that remind us of childhood summers. Some say we should let our gardens go wild for the bees, while others grumble about HOA rules and tidy appearances. It’s a tug-of-war between tradition and trend, nature and neighborhood.
When garden fatigue hits, I try to remember the smell of earth after rain, the sound of cicadas, and the way my hands look just like my father’s when I’m pulling weeds. Sometimes, I invite my grandkids to help, hoping they’ll find the same magic I did. Other times, I let myself grieve the plants that didn’t make it, and celebrate the stubborn survivors.
So, how do you fight the late-summer blues? Do you stick to the old ways, or embrace new tricks? Do you battle your HOA, or let your garden run wild? I’d love to hear your stories—maybe together, we can find a little more joy in the mess.
#gardeningmemories #newenglandgardens #seasonalslump #Gardening
