Finding Joy in the Storm: A Gardener’s Perspective

“Life isn’t about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain,”. 

Welcome to the Blog, Friends.

Good morning, dear friends, and a warm welcome. I had a very different post in mind for today, but as often happens in life, nature had other plans. Last night, we were wrapped in the arms of a magnificent storm—a symphony of thunder rolling across the sky like distant drums, brilliant flashes of lightning dancing across the landscape, and rain pouring down in shimmering sheets. It was wild, dramatic, and beautiful.

And truthfully, we needed it. The garden had been thirsting for a good soak, and I could almost hear the flowers sigh with gratitude. Even now, as I sit with my morning tea, the rain continues to fall softly, soaking the earth and pattering against the windows like a lullaby. Of course, not everything in the garden came through unscathed, and I ventured out between showers to see how things had fared.

My beloved peonies, with their lush, heavy blooms, had bent toward the ground, their petals brushing the damp grass. The dogwood tree, ever graceful, had branches bowed low, its pale blossoms shimmering like pearls in the rain. With my trusty garden snips in hand, I gathered a few of the blooms—gifts from the storm.

If you take a peek at the picture above, you’ll see the little bouquet I managed to rescue. Rain-kissed and softly wilted, they’ve come together to make a simple, lovely arrangement—one of those small, unexpected joys that make a rainy day feel like a blessing.

As I wandered from one garden bed to the next, I couldn’t help but be struck by the freshness that seemed to wrap itself around everything. There’s something magical about a garden just after the rain—it’s as if the world pauses for a moment, washed clean and renewed. Raindrops clung delicately to the lettuce leaves, catching the soft light like tiny jewels. It was such a lovely sight—a quiet promise of the feast to come, with nature’s own gentle touch dressing the table.

In one of the garden beds, chives, lettuce, and brussels sprouts mingle together like old friends, sharing space with a few volunteer squash that popped up unexpectedly, and a wonderfully full sage plant that seems quite pleased with its company. I love planting herbs and vegetables together—companion planting not only helps each plant thrive, but it brings a sense of natural balance to the garden.

The lettuce, nestled among these fragrant neighbors, takes on the soft, earthy notes of the herbs, adding just a whisper of sage or chive to each leaf. It’s a subtle transformation, but one that makes every salad feel a bit more special—like it’s been kissed by the garden itself.

These beautiful foxglove plants made a surprise appearance last year, springing up all on their own like little garden miracles. I was absolutely delighted to see them again this season—stronger, fuller, and accompanied by new offshoots, as if they’ve truly made themselves at home. They seem to thrive nestled among the roots of the river birch, their tall spires swaying gently in the breeze, adding just the right touch of whimsy and grace to that shady corner. It’s always a joy to watch nature take the lead.

His mother put him to bed, and made some chamomile tea: “One table-spoonful to be taken at bedtime.” –Beatrix Potter, The Tale of Peter Rabbit

I had planned to visit a local plant sale today to stock up on herbs, cheerful annuals, and a few sturdy perennials for the garden. But sometimes, Mother Nature has her own schedule, and with more downpours expected throughout the day and into the weekend, I’ve decided to wait just a bit longer. A rainy day is never truly wasted in the garden—it’s simply a pause for reflection and gratitude.

Meanwhile, the chamomile is doing beautifully, filling its pot with soft, feathery foliage and tiny, daisy-like blossoms will follow soon. It’s thriving in the cooler, damp weather—such a gentle plant with so many uses. If you’ve never tried it, chamomile tea made fresh from the garden is such a treat. Just snip a few blooms, steep them in hot water, and you have a calming cup of comfort that feels like a warm hug from the earth.

The rosemary is thriving in the herb garden—strong, fragrant, and full of life. It’s one of those wonderfully useful plants, equally at home in the kitchen or tucked into a little vase beside a favorite chair. I love using it to season roasted vegetables or infuse oils, but just as often, I find myself gathering a few sprigs simply for their delightful, refreshing scent.

Rosemary has long been associated with remembrance, and when I bring it into the house, I often tuck a sprig here and there—on a shelf, in a bookcase, or nestled in a little dish near the sink. It’s said to ward off insects, but even more, it gently reminds me to pause and remember—the special people, the beautiful moments, the stories that make a house a home.

Cultivating a habit of using herbs in the kitchen and throughout the home invites a deeper connection with the natural world. These humble plants have long served as medicine, preservative, culinary alchemy, and aromatic delight—quiet companions through the pages of history. In the garden, they work their subtle magic, encouraging healthier vegetables to thrive while offering their own beauty and charm.

One of life’s simplest pleasures is to wander through a patch of herbs, letting your fingers trail softly through the leaves. The fragrances released—earthy, sweet, peppery, and fresh—rise into the air like a whisper of summer. It’s a moment that feels timeless, calling to mind sun-drenched days meant for lingering and dreaming, when the only task at hand is to breathe deeply and be present in the green, growing world.

Thank you so much for joining me today for this unexpected moment of reflection—made sweeter by the gentle gifts the storm has left behind in the garden. Sometimes the most meaningful visits are the ones we don’t plan, aren’t they?

I’m off now to pour a comforting cup of tea, enjoy a freshly baked scone, and watch the garden as it softly stirs and stretches beneath the grey skies. There’s beauty to be found in simply sitting still and letting nature reveal herself in her own time.

I hope you’ll find a quiet moment today to do the same. It’s always a joy to share these little slices of life with you. Until next time, friends—may your days be filled with blooming things, warm cups, and gentle rain.