It’s like Spotify’s Wrapped, but less judgy, and more planty.

The Biggest Transformation: The Garage Wall + Prairie Bed

I wrote about this project in detail here, but this is the gist:

6 privet shrubs
Thousands of tiny, maddening rocks
1 garage wall with peeling, poop-brown paint
1 very sad standalone juniper
And—finally—a brand new prairie planting

I dug out the first privet in October 2024. After that, I worked shrub by shrub whenever weather and my child’s nap schedule aligned. Rock removal started in March (and, honestly, I’m still uncovering rocks anytime I plant something new). Unless you’re Beth Chatto or equally intentional, please never use small rocks in a garden bed. I beg of you.

By September, the wall was fully scraped and repainted, and every prairie plant was dug in. Nearly a full year of chipping away, but I did it. And I’m proud of it. I cannot wait for a quiet summer evening to sit cozily among full-grown prairie plants, sipping a martini, and watching the fireflies.

Best Laid Plan That Didn’t Quite Pan Out: The “Purple Rain” Patio Garden

As part of my ongoing Patio Garden series, 2025’s theme was Purple Rain—inspired by the many shades of purple (and wisps of yellow) on the album cover.

I’ll write a full post on this eventually, but here’s the spoiler: There were about two glorious weeks in June when it worked. Before that, the plants were still maturing; after that, the purple faded and the yellow took over.

I chose plants that bloomed in every phase of the growing season—what I didn’t consider was bloom length. For instance, Basket Flower (purple) blooms in late summer but only lasts a few days. Yellow zinnias also bloom in late summer but last for weeks, sometimes months. Guess who won?

Pros:

I grew 90% of the plants from seed: affordable, fun, and better variety than garden centers.
I learned a new factor to consider in garden design: bloom duration, not just bloom time.

Con:

It didn’t look how I envisioned for most of the season.

Onward! The 2026 patio garden will be 100% edible (more on that soon).

Best Deal of the Year: The Fire Pit Situation

Tell me this wasn’t the steal of the year:

Fire pit: garage sale, $20, including a nearly full propane tank

Two Adirondack chairs: found abandoned in the alley; my husband gave them a little TLC and now they’re peak cottage-core

We nestled the setup among the flower beds, including the new prairie planting in front of the rehabbed garage wall. A garden should be lived with, not just looked at. A couple of lucky finds made that possible this year.

Biggest Frustration: The Rabbits (Plural. Many. Hundreds?)

No that is not a pet bunny.

That is a feral-ass baby plant destroyer.

In Oregon, our enemy was slugs. In Illinois? Rabbits. Every year in Evanston it’s gotten worse. I used to think it was because I created more food for them. Nope. Every garden in the neighborhood now has rabbit fencing.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve Googled “do rabbits eat ___” this year. Half the answers were wrong. (Yes, they eat marigolds. No, they do NOT eat nasturtiums. In my garden anyway.)

Apparently the warmer winters are causing rabbit populations to spike. I’m hoping Mother Nature steps in—more foxes? More hawks? A real winter? Is that too vicious?

In the meantime, I put rabbit fencing around every bed. It helped a lot, but several large assholes can still jump over and feast. This is one reason I prefer growing from seed: if a $16 plant gets devoured in a night, I may start weeping. And I’ve been there before. Now I know, so now I sow.

Biggest Joy: Watching My Daughter Explore the Garden

By far the best part of 2025. Every five minutes she’d ask, “Go ousside?” or “Find worms?” Sometimes she wore her fanciest princess dress. Other times everything came off after she got soaked from watering plants or making pinecone soup.

Her unencumbered sense of exploration keeps me grounded. Her enjoyment reminded me of our intrinsic connection to plants, dirt, and nature—and the importance of slowing down. Watching her run through the sprinkler with pure joy makes me grateful for the patch of lawn I’ve kept.

Her squeals at finding a worm, spotting a bee butt, or seeing a roly poly curl up made my heart explode. She picked flowers for her hair and learned which plants she could snack on. I’d turn around and she’d be munching on chard, violas, or tomatoes. That kid’s gut microbiome is going to be invincible.

And with the first freeze, our 2025 gardening chapter ended…

Every gardener will tell you what the garden gives them, and it’s all true. Mine gives me satisfaction, movement, joy, learning, and a deep sense of connection that’s hard to find anywhere else. And what more do we really need in life? Reflecting on 2025 and planning for 2026 in the garden makes both winter and my day job feel a little more bearable.

Do you have a garden? How did your year go? I’d genuinely love to hear.

2025 Garden Recap: Prairie Beds, Purple Rain, and Plenty of Rabbits