The summer crescendo is here.
July in the garden is a full symphony—color, scent, and flavor all colliding in the best possible way. It’s the season where everything feels like it’s in motion: blooms are bursting, bees are everywhere, and I’m constantly moving between the flower beds and the vegetable garden with clippers in one hand and a harvest basket in the other.
Blooms, Fragrance, and the Glory of Color
Right now, the garden is in one of its most beautiful stages. Agapanthus are blooming tall and proud, their cool purple-blue clusters standing like fireworks against the heat. The perfume lilies are stealing the spotlight with their rich scent that stops you in your tracks (and honestly, makes it really hard to leave the garden). Alongside them, tiger lilies are wild and bold—fiery bursts that demand attention and get it.
Vervain is weaving its way quietly through, adding soft color and movement, while amarines glow like little summer gems. And then there’s cleome—one of those plants that always makes me stop and smile. It’s like nature’s own firework, spindly and strange in the best way.
This time of year, walking through the garden feels like entering another world. It’s chaotic, yes, but also deeply grounding.
Vegetable Garden Update
On the edible side of things, July marks a bit of a shift. The sugar snap peas and arugula have both been pulled—having done their part earlier in the season. I saved seeds from each, tucked away safely for next spring. It’s always a little bittersweet saying goodbye to spring greens, but the summer crops are more than making up for it.
The tomatoes have started rolling in, and it’s officially the season of tomato sandwiches, caprese everything, and the annual how do I preserve all of these scramble. The bush beans have been producing steadily for weeks now—bright green and crisp, easy to harvest and even easier to eat. And then there are the shishito peppers, which are going absolutely wild. I’m not mad about it.
The Joy in the Chaos
This part of the season is always a little overwhelming in the best way. There’s constant growth, constant tending, and honestly? Constant weeding. But there’s also joy—watching the garden change day by day, seeing what’s thriving, what needs help, and what new bloom or fruit has snuck in overnight. (Even if the heat has been a bit ridiculous.)
It's not perfect (no garden ever is), but it's alive. And that, in itself, is something worth pausing for.
Until next time—stay hydrated, check your tomatoes often, and don’t forget to stop and smell the lilies. Literally.
