🌿 Harvest Notes – June 20th, summer solstice

The garden is beginning to take shape in that steady, early summer way. Not everything is thriving at the same pace, but the overall sense is movement, growth, and effort; plants stretching into the heat, the soil, and the rhythms of this place.

In the north-facing herb bed, the nettles have nearly tripled in size. They’re vibrant, upright, and already sending up new shoots. It’s clear they’re happy here, even in the heat, especially with the filtered shade. The Angelica nearby is also looking strong—dense leaf growth at the base and that bright green vitality that always feels like a good sign. It hasn’t bolted or wilted, which I was worried about in this climate, so for now, I’m just watching and grateful.

The St. John’s Wort plants were added recently, three of them, tucked under the shade of the tree in that same north-facing bed. It’s still early, but they seem to be adjusting and starting to root. The heat and soil are both a challenge, but this feels like the right spot for them to settle.

In the northwest-facing bed, the comfrey is going deep and visibly thriving. Its broad leaves are lush and spreading wide, and I’m hopeful that blooms might come within a month. The baby mulleins at the edge of that same bed are sweet and soft, those fuzzy leaves catching the light just right. They’re small, but they feel sturdy, and I love how they anchor the outer edge of the space.

There’s some calendula popping up as well, and soon its brightness will provide so joy. It always feels like a little promise of what's to come.

At the far end of the Four Sisters bed, the Huichol tobacco is putting out a ton of new growth at the base. Its leaves are big and full, and it’s clearly loving its pot and position. This plant feels like a quiet anchor; low, leafy, and grounded.

The blackberry bush is also showing up in a big way, covered in small pink flowers right now. I wasn’t expecting such a burst, but it’s clearly found something it likes in that corner of the garden.

The elderberry on the far north edge is struggling a bit in the heat. It’s not looking quite as strong as the rest, but there is new growth. I’m keeping an eye on it, offering water and some extra attention, and trusting that it may catch up as the season shifts.

The three mugworts, which I’ve spaced out in different parts of the land, are all holding on. They’re not thriving yet, but they’re trying. They feel like they’re still in the negotiation stage with this land, this soil, this sun.

Elsewhere, the cherry tomatoes are getting bushy, lots of little yellow flowers appearing and the beginnings of fruit forming. There are carrots, basil thyme and okra to keep the cherry tomatoes company. The beans and squash are popping up right alongside the Hopi sunflowers and corn. That Four Sisters bed is starting to feel lively—everything coming up together, slowly forming a green weave of leaf and vine.

This is my first real try at a garden. Every morning and evening I walk the beds, watering and checking in—me, my dog, and this quiet home I’ve been building. These gentle rhythms have quickly become my favorite part of the day. Watching everything root and grow has me feeling more rooted too.