5 Gardening Mistakes I Swear I’ll Never Repeat (But Do Anyway)
Every spring, I slide on my gardening boots with the confidence of a woman who finally knows better. After all, I’ve read the books, watched the YouTube experts, and endured enough dirt-under-the-nails lessons to have earned at least one honorary horticulture degree.
And yet… by midsummer, I find myself standing in the garden, shaking my head, muttering: “Well, here we go again.”
Here are five gardening mistakes I swear I’ll never repeat—but do anyway, because apparently stubbornness grows just as well as weeds.
1. Planting Too Much, Too Close
Every seed packet says, “Thin seedlings to 12 inches apart.” My brain translates this as: “Sow them all! The more the merrier! Nature will figure it out!”
Fast-forward a few weeks, and I’ve got tomatoes crowding each other like kids fighting for the window seat. Cucumbers climbing up corn stalks. Lettuce suffocating under zucchini leaves. Basically, my garden looks like the world’s most aggressive potluck dinner—everyone showed up, and nobody brought elbow room.
Will I space them properly next year? Absolutely. Probably. Okay, fine—no.
2. Forgetting to Label Plants
Somewhere around May, I get a wild streak of confidence: “Of course I’ll remember which row is peppers and which is eggplant.” Spoiler: I won’t.
By June, I’m staring at mysterious green sprouts like a contestant on a garden-themed game show: Is it a bean, a weed, or a possible alien species?
Pro tip: Popsicle sticks are cheap, permanent markers exist, and still—I’ll be out there playing “Guess That Plant” until harvest.
3. Watering by Mood
Some people have a green thumb. I have a moody thumb. Some days, I water like Noah preparing for the flood. Other days, I forget the garden even exists and wonder why the lettuce is crunchier than potato chips.
Plants, it turns out, don’t like surprises. But consistency requires planning, and honestly, I’m more of a “go-with-the-flow (or lack thereof)” gardener.
4. Trusting My Fence to Outsmart Wildlife
Every year, I patch up the garden fence with optimism and duct tape. And every year, the local critters—rabbits, deer, and once a very smug groundhog—treat it like an “All You Can Eat” buffet.
By July, I’m waving a broom at squirrels like a lunatic, muttering threats about turning them into stew. They don’t listen. They never do.
5. Believing I’ll Weed Tomorrow
Weeds are patient. They wait for me to tell myself, “I’ll get to it tomorrow.” Then they throw an all-night party, invite their cousins, and by the weekend my tidy rows look like an overgrown jungle scene from a nature documentary.
And there I am, machete in hand (okay, just a hoe), wondering how on earth I let it get this far. Again.
Final Thoughts
Gardening, for me, is a lot like parenting or baking bread: no matter how many times you mess it up, the reward is still sweet enough to keep you coming back.
So yes, I’ll probably plant too close, forget the labels, flood the tomatoes, and host another wildlife picnic. But you know what? I’ll also get fresh cucumbers, juicy tomatoes, and the satisfaction of dirt under my fingernails.
And maybe, just maybe, by the time I’m 90, I’ll finally learn. (But don’t count on it.)