She Planted Them… and By Morning, They Were Gone

Picture this for a second …
You’re holding a warm cup of coffee, it’s still a little quiet out, and you’re looking out over your yard thinking, this is the year I finally make it feel … finished.

That’s exactly where my neighbor Laura seems to be right now.

She lives right next door, and her property mirrors ours in the best way, this big, open field in the back with so much potential it almost feels unfair.

Where we carved ours into flower fields, she’s been slowly, thoughtfully building out the borders … layering in beauty.

And she’s chosen well.

Lilacs that make you stop mid-walk.
Peonies that you know will be worth the wait.
Lavender that already hints at those slow summer evenings.

And then there’s her magnolia … the kind that blooms before the leaves even think about showing up.
(If you know, you know, the kind that makes you feel like spring is happening just for you.)

I’m not saying I’ve considered sneaking over there at dusk to “borrow” a few lilac stems …

… but I’m also not not saying that.

Between her fruit trees and ours, we could probably feed half the street.

And if I stretch just right over the fence, well, let’s just say temptation lives very close to home.

But here’s the part I know you’ll appreciate most …

Laura recently planted a whole round of annual flowers.

Because of course she did.

She’s one of us.

She loves flowers.

And just like that …

The rabbits found her.

Overnight.

Gone.

Not “a little nibble.” Not “slightly damaged.”
I mean to the ground.

And if you’ve ever walked outside expecting to see something thriving, only to find … nothing, you know that feeling.

It’s not just frustration. It’s this weird mix of disbelief and how did this happen so fast?

I’ve been there more times than I can count.

Which is exactly why Steve has essentially declared full-scale war on rabbits over here. (And when Steve commits to something … let’s just say the rabbits didn’t know what was coming. Hold your seats, we’re not talking mass destruction here.)

The good news?

It’s absolutely fixable.

But there are ways to protect what you’re growing without it taking over your life.

And this week inside Grow With Me, I go deep on this – 
every method we’ve tried over the years (the ones that worked, and the ones that absolutely didn’t), what finally made the biggest difference for us, and how we’ve landed on a system that actually feels manageable.

Because this is one of those problems that feels small, until it suddenly isn’t.

—

Happenings on the Farm

This past week felt like one of those quiet milestones.

So many of you came to pick up your cut flower seedling kits … and I’ve already started seeing photos of them planted in your gardens.

I can’t tell you how much I love that.

Because what you’re growing?

It’s the exact same flowers we’re growing here.

Same seeds.

Same timing.

Same little leap of faith that they’ll turn into something beautiful.

And if you’re already thinking ahead (I know you are), we’ll be opening up preorders again this October for the 2027 growing season. Those always go quickly, so if you want first dibs, or you know someone who would be interested, make sure you’re on the waitlist here.

And out in the fields, it’s been nonstop planting of all the warm-season annuals.

At some point, you just have to trust the calendar, even if the weather has been doing its own unpredictable thing this year.

The beds that were once covered in black landscape fabric are now filling in with actual life again, rows of tiny plants that don’t look like much yet … but will.

And that’s always my favorite part.

That moment where it still feels like potential …
but you know what’s coming.

And maybe that’s where you are too.

A little bit of planning.
A little bit of hope.
A yard (or a corner of one) that you’re slowly turning into something that feels like you.

And if you ever find yourself wondering if it’s worth the effort …

Just know, there’s a version of your future self, coffee in hand, looking out at it all …
so glad you did.