Beginning a Garden in Phoenix: Attempting Softness in the Desert (Day 1)

I have always loved everything English — the humor, the mysteries, the tweed, the shepherd’s pie, and oh, the gardens. The kind of gardens I look at and an involuntary “Oh!” just falls out of my mouth. They’re overflowing with flowers in different shapes, colors, and fragrances. The light is magical. They’re soft and… quiet. Soft, quiet, secluded spots.

So why didn’t my husband and I move to England when it was time to leave the Northeast? My brain doesn’t care for rain or winter. For a list of logical reasons, Phoenix was our best bet.

Let me be clear: I love Phoenix. I’m so happy to live here — the mountains and sunshine are glorious, and I have wonderful new friends. Our first year had some distractions, so now it’s year two and I’m ready to dig into the garden.

The thing is… I’m just not a cactus girl. I’ve tried, I really have. And the ocotillo in my front yard is downright confusing. There’s something in me that chafes against the idea of “impossible.” I don’t think I’m alone in missing my northern plants in Phoenix.

My garden will be a Phoenix garden, but that doesn’t mean it can’t share the English feeling I love. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have a few containers and, for some reason, a belief that this can work (we can revisit that in August).

Right plant in the right place? I don’t disagree. I just want to… tweak things. To any intrepid souls, northern, southern, from any climate — come along for the ride.

“The readiness is all.”

-“Hamlet”

The sun remains dramatic. I remain optimistic.

Once more unto the breach,
🌿 Ruby Hastings