A confession before we get into it: this letter about Simplicity Day is arriving much later in the day than planned, because today was, ironically, the least simple day I’ve had in weeks.

Somewhere between the dishwasher that was supposed to just... get installed two weeks ago, and the sixth hour on hold with Home Depot customer support, I had to laugh. You cannot make this up. Writing about National Simplicity Day, and I spent most of it tangled in a delivery-and-install saga that had more plot twists than it had any right to.

So if you’re reading this a little later than usual, I appreciate you being here anyway.

And if your own day today looked nothing like the calm, simple thing you’d planned either, you’re in good company.

Onward.

National Simplicity Day is this Sunday, every year on the 12th of July.

This is sort of a special “holiday” for us here at The Whiskey Porch because it’s at the core of what we are all about.

After all, our tag line is “cultivating contentment & possibility in a smaller, simpler & more beautiful lifestyle.”

Several years ago, I launched The Whiskey Porch on July 12th. I chose that date intentionally.

And, now more than ever, it just feels like we are all seeking refuge and inspiration to lift our spirits as we deal with the incoming chaos of the news cycles every day.

So it goes without saying, that finding pleasure and calm in simple ideas is something many of us are striving for now.

The Backdrop

The Simplicity Day celebration originated in honor of Henry David Thoreau, who lived in Concord, Massachusetts from July 12, 1817 to 1862.

Among many things, he was a Harvard educated author, naturalist, and a surveyor. Amazingly, he only lived to be 45, but was very prolific and accomplished.

He is most famous for his book Walden (about his 2 years living simply on Walden Pond), but he wrote other books and musings as well.

“I do believe in simplicity. It is astonishing as well as sad, how many trivial affairs even the wisest thinks he must attend to in a day; how singular an affair he thinks he must omit.

When the mathematician would solve a difficult problem, he first frees the equation of all incumbrances, and reduces it to its simplest terms.

So simplify the problem of life, distinguish the necessary and the real. Probe the earth to see where your main roots run.” — Thoreau, 27 March 1848

The Walden Woods Project website is a great resource to learn more about him, and his ideas.

Their mission is to preserve the land, literacy, and legacy of this man, and to foster an ethic of environmental stewardship and social responsibility.

Fun fact: the project was founded by recording artist Don Henley (of the Eagles).

There’s a ton to explore so maybe that’s a good way to while away an hour or two while you celebrate doing less.

5 Ways to Celebrate Simplicity Day

I’ve been pondering some thoughtful ways to celebrate National Simplicity Day today (and beyond).

You could try all 5 options since they sort of naturally go together, or maybe just pick one or two.

And consider repeating your celebration now and then so maybe it becomes a new way of doing things for you rather than just a one-day event.

1. Step away from technology.

I know this is extremely tough these days. We are linked to our phones, and laptops, and smart speakers and almost don’t know how to function without them. But, trust me, it’s so refreshing and quieting to just turn it all off and find something else to focus your energy on. Take the day off, unshackle yourself from the conveniences and addictions of technology. Give those around you your undivided attention.

For me, I have a standing weekend sign-off where I spend my days outside in the garden or in the studio making or out in the forest hiking with Ibis and my husband. I may have my phone nearby, but try to only use it for phone calls or messaging that relate to family and friends. And the truth is, they often complain that I’m hard to reach on the weekends - ha.

2. Ignore the news and the to-do list.

Since I fully realize that item #1 is pretty tough to pull off, here’s a suggestion that might be more manageable.

If you can’t leave your phone and smart watch behind, maybe at least vow to ignore the news and any semblance of a to-do list for the day.

Maybe even go so far as to turn off the notifications from your news or social feeds. For the day, or maybe even just for good. You can consume that stuff when you really need to in a proactive way.

Meanwhile, make the noise stop!

3. Spend some quality time on your porch.

The front porch is my absolute favorite spot in most homes. It’s a wonderful way to engage with the world without leaving home - because it’s lovely to just sit for bit and watch the world go by.

Last year I wrote a post considering just what’s so alluring about a front porch.

Maybe check out the blog (assuming you’re not doing item #1 in the list!) and say hello to neighbors strolling by or sit with your family and friends for a bit.

4. Be alone outdoors and use ALL your senses.

This one is just so beneficial and fairly unusual.

Typically we head to outdoor adventures with friends, to share the experience. But here, the idea is to stop talking and venture into the great outdoors, maybe on a local hiking trail you haven’t yet explored, alone.

Why alone? Because it gives you the space and time and freedom to engage all your senses and truly be in the moment.

See the trail, and the flowers. Smell the air and the trees. Hear the birds and the wind. Touch the seed pods on the tree and observe the detail. You get the idea. Okay, don’t taste the berries unless you are positive it’s safe.. just gotta say that.

If hiking isn’t your kinda thing, you can do this one by just finding a cool spot in your garden or yard, get comfy and just have a sit for a bit. Close your eyes if you find it hard to really observe all the sounds and scents around you. If you’re lucky enough to have birds or butterflies visiting your garden then enjoy just observing them - I bet you won’t be able to keep from smiling!

5. Make a plan to downsize.

This one is pretty broad. Because you could apply it to so many things including your lifestyle, your belongings, your job, or your home.

I think in general Americans live far beyond their means - their personal resources and those of the environment they live in. It’s just a way of life; a way of thinking.

This idea involves first acknowledging the overwhelm in your own home or lifestyle. Sometimes that is easiest by considering the alternative. Ask yourself: How would I feel (or my life change) if I owned less stuff? Or bought less stuff? Or had a smaller home to maintain?

Now, take it one step further and explore some concrete steps you can realistically take now or over time to downsize your life. Write something down. Put a reminder in your phone to follow-up.

Here’s the thing about Simplicity Day. It’s one day. One day of it feels good.

Five days might actually change something. And doing it together might make it easier and definitely more fun.

🌟And if you’re already a paid subscriber - you’ll also get a daily thread in Chat where we can talk through each day’s prompt together, live.

Let’s see what five days of simple can do.

I’m excited!

Enjoy the little things in life because one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things. — Kurt Vonnegut

Thank you for being here with me - I’m so happy you’re here.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. Not ready for a five-day commitment? Totally fair. Tell me in the comments: which of these five suggestions is hardest for you to actually pull off? I have a guess, but I want to hear yours.

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No worries - you can easily adjust your email preferences anytime to skip the monthly Garden Keeping Journal and still receive all the other stories, reflections, and design inspiration from The Whiskey Porch.

Hello my garden friends,

July is the month I finally stop hoarding my own garden. After weeks of watching things grow, I’ve learned to actually cut the blooms - and discovered the garden rewards you for it.

I adore making small cut flower bouquets from whatever is blooming in the garden.

There’s a corner on my desk where I keep a small vase filled with something pretty. And I have a spot on my kitchen bar counter which is visible from many parts of the main living area where I almost always have something colorful and lovely.

I do grow a number of things specifically for this purpose, but honestly, it takes A LOT for me to cut those stems and bring them in. I don’t know what it is, but I guess everything just looks so lush and joyful in the landscape and I feel like by cutting the blooms I’m eliminating some of the magic.

But I’ve gotten much better at it this year and remind myself that often, by cutting blooms often I’m encouraging more growth and more flowering.

July in Zone-7 is about general tending, pest and water management. And if you are lucky, this is the beginning of some harvesting too.

Most years we are into our monsoon cycle early in the month, and with that comes the daily/weekly dance of backing off on your automatic drip schedule when appropriate... (and not forgetting to turn it back on if there's a break in the rain storms!)

Even with a rain sensor, which helps make that easier, I've found that I need to pay close attention to newer plants that might still need a bit of hand watering after a storm, when the rest of the system is on delay.

If you've been keeping up with the monthly checklists so far, then you should find that July is quite a bit less heavy on the big tasks. And just more about spending time in your landscape every day and tending to the little things that need doing.

July at Juniper Hill Cottage

A few behind-the-scenes notes from the garden as summer fully arrives.

🌼What I’m Planting

• Another round of Cilantro*

• Rosa ‘4th of July’ Climbing Rose (only because I’m replacing one of a pair that never settled in and finally gave up on me in June)

• English Lavender ‘Vera’ (Lavandula angustifolia) (see the story in Last Month’s Lessons Learned👇🏼 )

*direct sowing seeds in the ground

🌼What’s Blooming

• Clematis x ‘Niobe’ and ‘Jackmanii’

• Lavenders - English and French varieties

• Monarda - Beramot Lemon, Bergamo, and Raspberry Wine, and more

• Hedgehog Cactus (Echinocereus) - various varieties

• Baikal Skullcap (Scutellaria baicalensis)

• Clary Sage ‘Vatican White’ (Salvia sclarea)

• Trumpet Vine (Campsis radicans)

• Raven Cranesbill (Geranium phaem ‘Raven)

• Bushy Bulbine (Bulbine abyssinica)

• Burgandy Desert Willow (Chilopsis lenearis ‘Burgandy)

• Halls Honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica ‘Halliana)

• Major Wheeler Honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens ‘Major Wheeler)

• I could keep going - but I also share lots of images of garden glimpses on my Substsack daily Notes if you’d like to catch more there

🌼Last Month’s Lesson Learned

Lavender is one of my all time favorite landscape plants. It does well here.

The soft, slightly fuzzy delicate leaves. The coolish, grey blue color of the foliage. The spikey tall vertical blooms in all manner of purples and light blues. That scent is heavenly.

However, anyone who’s ever grown lavender knows that it can get large and very woody. In practical terms, what that means is that while it may still be very much alive and even still blooming fairly well, it begins to loose it’s lovely rounded shape, and has a sort of - I don’t know - just a ratty look to it.

I’ve had the most lovely English Lavender (the cultivar escapes me right now) growing in a very prominent spot right by the front entry to the porch, in a very large ceramic planter.

It’s been stunning for about three years. Give her a light prunning each early spring as she begins waking up and she’s off and running.

This year, in May, she was healthy and leafing out, I began pruning. And just got over zealous about the thing. I kept cutting and cutting. I was feeling good about it, although I knew it was a tiny bit risky.

But now I know she’s not coming back and I’m feeling rather stupid about it.

Lesson Learned: The guidance that says only cut back about a third of a lavender and do it right after they’ve flowered is true. Don’t wait until spring. And certainly, don’t hack of two thirds of the thing. The trouble is, it’s just sooo hard to prune it back in late summer when in fact they are often still blooming a bit- and you remember the story I shared earlier about cutting blooms in the landscape - it’s just hard.

About These Checklists

While we don’t offer garden maintenance services here at The Whiskey Porch, these monthly Garden Keeping Checklists are designed to help you stay on track and feel supported through the seasons.

Whether you’re handling everything yourself or working with a maintenance crew, you’ll find the tips practical and flexible - especially if you’re gardening in or around Prescott, Arizona, or in other Zone-7 and neighboring climates anywhere in the world.

Each checklist reflects the rhythm I experience here in Prescott’s downtown microclimate, so your own garden may vary slightly depending on your elevation, location, and what you’re growing. Generally speaking, these notes align with USDA Zone 7b.

Of course, no two years are exactly alike, even in the same zone. Some seasons bring an early hard freeze in late October, while others hold off until December. Keep that in mind as you plan your tasks.

These guides are geared toward landscape gardens that include mostly perennials, with a sprinkling of annuals, veggies and herbs.

Let’s get into it!

Read more

Summer is in full swing and I’m so glad to see you here this Friday.

I live and work in a small town called Prescott - in the high-country of northern Arizona.

And I’m deeply, totally obsessed with nature and gardens. Well - that and many other things design, home and lifestyle related too - but today we’re taking a peek at gardens.

When I mention Arizona, I'm often greeted with looks of concern - as though I'm gardening in a sandy, burning wasteland.

And I understand why.

But here in the northern high-country, we sit at 5,600 feet, surrounded by national forests of ponderosa pines and mountain peaks rising to almost 13,000 feet.

They say images are worth a thousand words…

Little Earth Fellows

I grew up in Sweden picking wild strawberries, blueberries, and mushrooms in the woods. They aren’t the kind of berries Americans are used to - which, as with everything else, are huge and perfectly shaped. And often bland.

The wild strawberries are tiny, unimpressive, and the most quitessential strawberry flavor you can imagine.

They grow literally everywhere in the forests and open meadows. Foraging is a passion and pastime there. They are called Smultron - which is hard to translate but it’s something like “hidden treasures” or even “little earth fellows”.

They are hard to find since they nestle into the leaves and plants in the forests.

I’ve missed these little fellows.

And last summer, I decided to setup several hanging baskets to try my hand at Alpine Strawberries - and I’m happy to report that they are the closest thing I’ve found here in the States.

I’m a very happy gardener, standing in the courtyard kitchen garden popping these gems right into my mouth.

My 86 year-old mom has been doing the same recently💖 - but she tells me: “They aren’t exactly as sweet as the ones from home”. Well, okay then.

The Shady Border

We have trees. We have shade.

I filmed a little stroll through the Shady Border on a late spring morning here.

It’s a little slower to wake up, but in the fall - it’s to die for.

I can’t wait to share the autumn show with you - you won’t want to miss it.

Poppy Season

We have color, and flowers, and recently the poppies have been doing their thing.

While in many climates they do well in full sun, here they prefer filtered shade.

It’s tempting to cut all these stunning blooms to bring indoors, but I’m looking forward to the beautiful seed pods this fall. Stay tuned.

Giant Rattle Breadseed Poppies, Icelandic Poppies, Clary Sage, and Wood Betony - all grown from seed and now filling the garden with color and movement.

Thank you for “poppyng” by for a walkabout and I hope you’re Friday is full of color, shade, and sweet strawberries.

Wishing you a happy 4th of July if you are celebrating - I’ll be in the garden with my little earth fellows!

And in case you haven’t had a chance to check out the monthly Garden Keeping Journal, here is June’s checklist for you: June Garden Keeping Journal. The July Garden Keeping Journal goes out tomorrow to subscribers.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. Have you ever grown alpine strawberries? And if you’re Swedish, or have spent time in Sweden, have you foraged for jordgubbar? I want to hear about it.

And what’s your garden looking like right now - are you in a full summer show, or are you in that “all green and no drama” moment waiting for the next act?

Use the comment button below and come find me on the Substack app - let’s keep the conversation going.

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Early this year I began writing a short series, working through one real question at the very heart of my design philosophy.

I wanted to pull it all together here so it’s all in one place for you.

Start anywhere, or read straight through.

With contentment & possibility,

Summer is blooming and life has been full this week. I’m so glad you’re here - pull up a chair.

Today I’m sharing a few of my recent Cottage Glimpses. These are photo-forward and behind-the-scenes details from our historic 1924 Craftsman bungalow in the northern Arizona high-country. We call it Juniper Hill Cottage.

Garden Bouquets and My Writing Space

The view from my desk ☝🏼

While I have a very small office space - really it’s just a corner of the garden room in the main house - I’m fortunate to be able to enjoy views and natural light. The room has windows and glass doors on literally every wall, plus 3 very large skylights.

I’ve started calling it the “conservatory” just for fun. What do you think? Does it qualify?

And often, Nellie the cat takes up residence in my in-box to keep me company. She’s a loud snorer, so that’s always interesting when I’m trying to record my voice-overs for videos. Have you heard that in the background?

Most weeks I like to cut something from the gardens to bring in. Recently, it’s been lush, highly scented sweetpeas, snapdragons, angelica, and icelandic poppies.

What a treat!

Chili Verde con Cerdo Time

Three (or was it four?) hours in the kitchen prepping the chili - I made a little video of the whole production, condensed into eighty seconds.

Our youngest daughter and her fiancé came for the weekend a few days ago from Utah. So last week’s project was a big pot of southwestern goodness. Ibis supervised. Michael wandered through. The summer evening light was perfect.

And after all that, it still had two more hours to braise.

Then I let it cool, packaged it up for the freezer, and planned the rest of the menu…

• Cucumber & Lime Aqua Fresca cocktails

• Homemade Guacamole with Corn Tortilla Chips for the table

• Elote Spiced Nut Mix

• Chili Verde served with lots of fresh lime, cilantro, finely chopped red onion, and sour cream - served on my daughter’s hand decorated chili pepper dish (of course)

• Fresh, warm Corn Tortillas

• Homemade Pistachio Ice Cream with White Chocolate Sauce and fresh ground Pistachio

I served our treats in these vintage green glass ice cream dishes, that I’ve had for ages and always get a kick out of using.

It was a magical afternoon and evening on a warm summer evening in the garden.

Herbs as Bouquets

A little bundle of garden rue (Ruta graveolens) from the courtyard kitchen garden, brought inside for the week.

Rue has a long history as both a medicinal and symbolic herb, though these days it’s mostly grown by people who enjoy slightly unusual old cottage garden plants.

Which, apparently, includes me.

I love the soft blue-green foliage and airy flowers - especially tucked into a simple bottle-vase on the windowsill.

That vase is another vintage glass item - that fits perfectly on the tiny little ledge that runs along the north wall of the garden room/conservatory.

The wood items - a martini glass, clock, and picture frame - were all made by my father.

In the frame I’ve placed a small piece of a reproduction William Morris wallpaper, designed and used widely at the early turn of the 20th century, when this cottage was built.

The Tiny Bookcase Tour

I began doing short notes on Substack sharing my Tiny Bookcase a few weeks ago. Here’s a few in case you aren’t seeing those.

A small corner of one of my small bookcases (I only have two).

Looking at someone’s books tells you a lot about the owner.

Me? Apparently a deep commitment to good food and wandering around outside.

Also: yes, William Morris wallpaper lining the back, because I can’t seem to resist a good design detail.

Another corner seems to suggest that I spend my time thinking about old bungalows, weather patterns, herbs, and essential oils.

Also, there’s a tiny antique Swedish sugar jar that I’ve loved for years - the delicate lily-of-the-valley like blooms and the shape. No sugar in there these days, but it’s a safe place to put my wedding ring when I head out into the garden.

And finally, garden books, garden design books, books about Arizona plants, books about tea gardens, books about outdoor living, more plant books, and The Heirloom Gardener by John Forti (love that book and the author).

The pattern so far: I like plants and gardens. I bet you’re not surprised!

What would your bookshelves reveal about you?

Thank you for joining me here this month.

And, if you’re new here - I’m thrilled to have you.

There’s always more happening over on my Substack Notes - garden glimpses, quick ideas and small moments. I’d love to see you over there if you have the app.

I’ll see you again next Friday, my friends.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. Questions for you this week: Does your workspace have a name? Should mine officially become the conservatory? Yes - tell me what you really think.

What’s in your kitchen this summer - are you a chili person, or strictly a warm-weather-light-food person?

And most importantly: what would your bookshelves reveal about you? I have a feeling this one has some interesting answers.

Use the comment button below and come find me on the Substack App - I'd love to hear your answers.

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It happens every year - the longest day. But somehow, the Summer Solstice always feels like it sneaks up on me.

Even though we’re just beginning the season of warmth and bloom, this is also the moment when the light reaches its peak… and begins its slow retreat. I do feel a bit conflicted about that — but there it is, the natural order of things.

In the Northern Hemisphere, the solstice usually falls on June 20th or 21st. This year, it lands on Sunday the 21st, when the sun reaches its highest and northernmost point in the sky.

But I think of this day less as a celebration of Summer’s start, and more as a lovely moment in the earthly cycles.

A chance to catch my breath and notice that these days are full and long and brimming with life.

I don’t do anything elaborate. No big rituals or bonfires. Just a moment of awareness. A moment to say, yes, I see you, Summer. Welcome.

A moment to mark the longest day and welcome the season with more beauty, less fuss, and a little Swedish midsummer spirit.

Growing up in Sweden, ‘Midsommar’ was something we celebrated with flowers in our hair and the sun still hanging in the sky at midnight.

It was joyful and earthy and beautifully communal.

There’s the custom of wearing your family’s traditional regional folk dress - this was based on the province where you came from. And then there was the dancing to traditional music around the summer pole. And much laughter.

I think I still have my dress from when I was 9 years old, in a sealed box somewhere. For a future grand-daughter maybe?

And while my life here in Arizona now is a world apart, that reverence for light and season has never left me.

Cooking with the Seasons

One of the simplest ways to honor a season is through food.

There’s something deeply satisfying about letting the time of year guide what comes to the table. Not in a fussy or complicated way, but in the old, ordinary way of looking around and asking: what is growing, what is abundant, what tastes like right now?

While I won’t delve into the traditional Swedish recipes here, I did want to share with you an old cookbook that I’ve had for ages. It’s truly one of my favorites.

The Tra Vigne Cookbook: Seasons in the California Wine Country,

by Michael Chiarello, 1999

It’s an older cookbook - first published in 1999 and, as far as I can tell, no longer widely in print - but it remains one of my favorites. And it looks like it can be found at second hand retailers - it’s worth a look.

It isn’t just the recipes I love, though there are plenty of good ones. (Okay, in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever made a single recipe from this book that isn’t truly outstanding, to be honest.)

It’s not the fame of that restaurant in norther California where I lived, or the celebrity chef.

It’s the way the whole book is organized around the seasons, and specifically what produce is in season for each time of year.

That structure helps you think differently about cooking: not “What do I want?” but “What is this season offering?” What belongs to this moment?

And the other layer is that most of these recipes don’t just use produce items that are in season, but they truly feature them. The approach is clean and simple.

• Simply Tomatoes

• Hallibut and Corn Salad with Broken Tomato Vinaigrette

• Fuseilli Michelangelo

A seasonal cookbook is more than a collection of recipes. It’s a reminder to look around, pay attention, and let the time of year guide what comes to the table. And celebrate that abundance.

5 Simple Ways to Mark the Summer Solstice

While it would be fun and joyful to go build a Swedish midsommar pole to dance around, I figure that doesn’t really meet the Simple and Peaceful intention I began with.

Instead, I’ve got five no-fuss and truly simple ideas for you to consider for your solstice celebration.

1. Eat with the season

Fresh herbs, summer fruit, greens, grilled vegetables, a simple outdoor meal, whatever is abundant.

2. Stay outside a little longer

Porch sittin’, garden wander, walk at dusk, watering slowly, noticing the evening light.

3. Bring flowers or herbs indoors

A jar, a cup, a tiny arrangement. Nothing elaborate. Even my cutting celery that has bolted makes a fantastic indoor bouquet.

4. Make one small summer promise

More meals outside, more evening walks, more time in the garden, more beauty, less hurry. For me, it’s more picnics in the forest with my husband.

5. Look up after dark

The solstice belongs to the sun, but summer stars deserve their moment too.

The poet Carl Sandburg once wrote, in Summer Stars:

Bend low again, night of summer stars.
So near you are, sky of summer stars,
So near, a long arm man can pick off stars,
Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl,
So near you are, summer stars,
So near, strumming, strumming,
So lazy and hum-strumming.

From Smoke & Steel, 1920. Mr. Sandburg was an American Pulitzer prize winner who’s parents were Swedish. He lived in North Carolina, and his home is now a national museum.

However you choose to honor the solstice - with a meal, a walk, a jar of flowers, or simply a few extra minutes outside in the long light - I hope this season invites you to be present, rest a little more often, and notice what summer is offering while it’s here.

Wishing you peace and beauty.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. What does high summer taste like where you are? Strawberries, tomatoes, herbs, corn, something grilled outside? Have you tried any of the recipes in the Tra Vigne cookbook? I’d love to hear what feels most like the season to you.

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I’m so glad you’re here with me today.

April and most of May were crazy busy months for me here at Juniper Hill Cottage. I underestimated the amount of tasks I had planned in the gardens and had local design projects that took priority.

But I am so happy I stuck with it, because the last 3 weeks or so have been a pure joy - all that planning and work paid off.

I wanted to share a few glimpses of the what late spring looks like here.

The Gravel Walk is beginning to wake up for the season - tucked beneath an old alligator juniper that offers dappled shade for part of the day, and The River Rock Border in the center slowly filling with fresh green growth, tiny blooms, and all the promise of what’s still to come.

The dragonfly gate into the courtyard kitchen garden helps define that space and offers a welcoming doorway to something tucked away behind the wall.

The Moonshine Yarrow (Achillea millefolium x ‘ Moonshine’) began with one small plant a few years ago and after dividing it a few times it’s tucked into many corners.

One of my favorite things about spring in the garden is that moment before everything fully arrives.

It’s was Dahlia Time at Juniper Hill Cottage, in mid-May.

Sorting. Labeling. Sleeping tubers are waking up. And the first pinching of the season began.

A quick little garden glimpse of this late spring ritual 👇🏼🔊

Foxgloves always feel so charming and extravagent to me - tall spires, speckled throats, and that old cottage garden exuberance.

Old fashioned herbs fill my garden beds - many are lovely for culinary reasons, but many are for me just goregous and earn their place for that reason. Here is Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis) and Garden Rue (Ruta graveolens).

Like spring sunshine and crushed lemon leaves - how about a little Lemon Balm Afternoon Tea for a reset my friends?

Here’s a super quick how-to video - I’ll walk you through it. 👇🏼🔊

Engelmann’s Prickly Pear (Opuntia engelmannii) is a stunner for it’s architecture year round as well as it’s blooms in late spring. And then, it’s fruit in autumn.

Bee party: Three bees. One prickly pear bloom. 5 minutes of shenanigans. 👇🏼

A small corner of the dragonfly gate leading from the south garden into the courtyard.

Dragonflies have flown the earth for more than 300 million years, surviving and adapting through unimaginable change. Over time, they’ve come to symbolize resilience, transformation, courage, and the reminder to reconnect with the joy of the moment.

I’ve got the dragonfly motif hidden all over the property here. As well as in my logo for The Whiskey Porch.

Thanks for stopping by the porch for a moment.

And in case you haven’t had a chance to check out the monthly Garden Keeping Journal, here is June’s checklist for you: June Garden Keeping Journal.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. How has summer settled in for you? I know the U.K. and Europe had a real doozy of a heat wave a couple of weeks ago. What’s blooming in your gardens, or in the surrounding landscape and neighborhood? I’d love to hear. 👇🏼

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Not gardening in Zone-7?

No worries - you can easily adjust your email preferences anytime to skip the monthly Garden Keeping Journal and still receive all the other stories, reflections, and design inspiration from The Whiskey Porch.

Hello dearest readers,

By June, most of us have done the hard part.

We’ve hauled home new plants, tucked seedlings into the ground, rearranged containers three times, and spent more than we intended at the nursery.

Now comes the part that often determines whether the garden thrives or merely survives: watering wisely, managing pests early, and paying attention to what the plants are trying to tell us.

If a few plants are looking a little stressed right now, or if you’ve already lost a seedling or two, don’t worry - you’re in good company.

June is often the month when the garden begins revealing what is happy, what is struggling, and what needs a little extra attention.

By now, here in the high mountains of the Southwest, we've entered that dry and warm part of our summer. Monsoons typically enter the stage in late June. This year, surprisingly, it’s been mild and gorgeous - chilly evenings and mornings and warm but not hot days. Nothing to complain about here!

Strategies for June include a solid watering plan, and one of the biggest favors you can do for yourself is to match plants to the conditions you actually have, rather than the conditions you wish you had. Shade structures or layering of plants can help immensely.

Remember - overwatering can be just as bad as too little or too shallow as well.

June at Juniper Hill Cottage

A few behind-the-scenes notes from the garden as spring begins to settle in.

🌼What I’m Planting

• Dill (Anethum graveolens) ‘Mammoth’ and ‘Bouquet’ *

• Tomatillo (Physalis philadelphica) *

• Mexican Sunflower (Tithonia rotundifolia) ‘Torch’ *

• Castor Bean *

• Store bought succulents and Coleus for my annual pots

*direct sowing seeds in the ground

🌼What’s Blooming

• Sweet Peas (Lathyrus odoratus) ’Beaujolais’, ‘High Scent’, and ‘Royale Blend’ - beautiful rich colors and off the charts scents

• New Mexican Evening Primrose (Oenothera neomexicana) - like a carpet of pale pink clouds

• Engelmann’s Prickly Pear (Opuntia engelmannii) - stunning apricot, sunset blooms the size of your palm

• Angelica - covered with bees and pollinators, and that scent is like heaven

• Icelandic Poppies (Papaver nudicaule) - stunners in the cooler beds and for cut flowers, like crackly tissue paper with bright apricot centers

• Giant Rattle Breadseed Poppy (Papaver somniferum) ‘Laurens Grape’ - impressive, huge plants and the first one opened up this morning!

• I could go on and on…. I share little garden glimpses on Substack notes weekly, so you can catch these beauties there if you’d like to follow along.

In last month’s letter I mentioned that we extended our rebar shade structure in the courtyard kitchen garden this winter. I use a 40% industrial grade fabric that you barely notice. The goal was to take the edge off that intense heat on the south edge of the raised box-beds and minimize the need to over-water in that space.

Good news: It seems to be doing the trick perfectly! Although, as mentioned, it hasn’t been as hot and dry as it often can be this time of year. But I’m thrilled with the result.

🌼Last Month’s Lesson Learned

The early birds.

I actually have several planters on the property and buy really good quality seed for the birds. I love them. But darn it - they love to get in there where I’ve sown seeds in the kitchen garden and make a rukus.

No wonder the dill wasn’t sprouting.

I reordered a few seed packets and tried again.

Lesson Learned: Always, always put some hardware cloth over the seeded areas to keep those seeds protected until they’ve gotten to a 1- or 2-inch height.

About These Checklists

While we don’t offer garden maintenance services here at The Whiskey Porch, these monthly Garden Keeping Checklists are designed to help you stay on track and feel supported through the seasons.

Whether you’re handling everything yourself or working with a maintenance crew, you’ll find the tips practical and flexible - especially if you’re gardening in or around Prescott, Arizona, or in other Zone-7 and neighboring climates anywhere in the world.

Each checklist reflects the rhythm I experience here in Prescott’s downtown microclimate, so your own garden may vary slightly depending on your elevation, location, and what you’re growing. Generally speaking, these notes align with USDA Zone 7b.

Of course, no two years are exactly alike, even in the same zone. Some seasons bring an early hard freeze in late October, while others hold off until December. Keep that in mind as you plan your tasks.

These guides are geared toward landscape gardens that include mostly perennials, with a sprinkling of annuals, veggies and herbs.

To learn more about why I started this Garden Keeping Journal:

Let’s get into it!

Read more

Yesterday, while I was on an important client inquiry call, a man in a mask showed up at my front gate and began spraying something foggy toward the plants in my front garden.

Which is not, generally speaking, what one hopes to see while trying to sound calm, encouraging, and entirely focused on a potential design project.

But I was confused and slightly alarmed at what was happening in the garden.

Let me back up.

We live in a 1924 cottage in the mountains of northern Arizona surrounded by national forests. There is wildlife. Lots of it. There are birds and pollinators. Predators. There are pests.

You know, mice and rats that somehow manage to find a way into our 100-year-old stone foundation and into the basement. Where, since we don’t have a garage, we store a few things - it is a cool and consistent temperature, which is good for the few keepsakes we have there.

And, of course, it’s also highly desirable for the mice and rats that want to escape the summer heat.

So, I’ve had this great local company coming to deal with these invaders and the spiders that also love that cool, dark environment. They come three times during the summer/fall and use products that are environmentally safer and not toxic to people or pets.

Last year, late in the summer, after being eaten alive by mosquitoes, we had asked this pest service to place mosquito traps in a few spots around the property.

We had marginal success with that, possibly because we started too late and/or because there are neighbors that have standing water that they don’t treat.

Apparently, somewhere along the way, this was translated into their full three-pronged mosquitoe attack plan for the 2026 season.

No one had discussed this with us.

No one had asked if we wanted the garden sprayed.

And I certainly had not knowingly signed up to have the garden - the same garden I have spent 16 years building as an organic, living, layered place - fogged into submission.

The awkward part, of course, is that I hate mosquitoes.

I do not mean this in a vague, mildly inconvenienced way.

I mean that mosquitoes seem to find me personally delicious, and I would very much enjoy spending the summer evenings on the porch without becoming a buffet.

I’ve tried every remedy under the sun including slathering lavender essential oil all over my ankles and arms, and citronella. Fans blowing on us. I mean the battle is real, right?

Many of you have it far worse than we do.

So back to the man in the mask with the fogger.

This was not a simple, glowing moment of noble environmental virtue.

It was an actual choice: finish the call and pretend I had not seen what was happening, or interrupt the call, run outside, and ask what exactly was being sprayed on the garden.

I chose to run outside, waving my arms to get his attention - that fogger was loud and he had ear protection as well as a mask on, and also arm protectors. Red flag?

I asked him what was going on.

He was not being careless or evasive. He was polite, and I think genuinely trying to be helpful. He is actually a very nice man, just doing his job. Someone had scheduled him to come take care of “things” over here.

He told me that the only way they could "guarantee" less mosquitoes this season was to do this 3-pronged treatment. It included fogging the entire property, setting up these bait traps, and I don’t even recall what the third thing was.

I mentioned that I was worried about the spray killing pollinators and beneficial insects and possibly harming much more than mosquitoes.

He insisted that it was designed to "only target the mosquitoes" but when I asked him what the spray was, he very genuinely responded that he knew what it's commercial name was but didn't actually know what was in it.

This moment stayed with me: he was protected from the spray, yet could not tell me what was in it.

I told him I didn’t want the service without doing more research, and that I was going to cancel it on the spot - knowing, uncomfortably, that he was probably paid by route completion.

I knew this meant that I was going to have to order a larger jar of organic lavender essential oil (yes - it actually does seem to work!), and maybe look for more citronella candles to plop down all over the porches and the garden gazebo. Oh, and those bird bath mosquito rings.

I’ll share a few of those less-dramatic mosquito resources at the bottom of the letter. 👇🏼

The Environment is Not Somewhere Else

It struck me today that this is often where our relationship with the environment actually lives.

Not in slogans.

Or in grand declarations.

But in the inconvenient, ordinary moments when the living world at our doorstep asks us to pay attention.

The environment, in that moment, was not a distant forest, or a global conversation happening somewhere far beyond my reach.

It was the front garden. The pollinators. The soil that I dig. The birds that sing. The entrance gate. The place where I live.

The environment is not somewhere else. Sometimes it is standing at your front gate, wearing a mask, holding a fogger, while you are trying to decide whether your garden is merely decorative or actually alive.

I’m glad I deferred that client call and ran out there waving my arms like a slightly unhinged garden guardian.

Maybe you know this kind of choice too?

Not this exact one, perhaps. But the ordinary moment when convenience, comfort, cost, time, and care all collide - and suddenly you have to decide what kind of life you are actually trying to live.

Smaller Living as Stewardship

Most of the time, when I write about smaller, simpler, more beautiful living, I’m talking about easing stress, reducing overwhelm, and making more room for what matters.

But the story of the fogger man reminded me that this way of living also has something to do with stewardship - which coincidentally relates to World Environment Day today.

When we hear the word environment, it can sound enormous. Distant. Political. Scientific. A word that belongs to forests, oceans, melting ice, and global conversations far beyond our own front doors.

But the environment is also the porch. The courtyard. The shade of the tree we sit beneath in the evening. The birds moving through the garden. The quality of the air after rain. The soil under our hands.

And, honestly, the mosquitoes too.

I have come to believe that smaller living, at its best, is not about having less for the sake of less. It is not only about convenience, a more manageable budget, or a lighter stress load.

It is about paying closer attention to what is already here.

It is also about how we can nurture, cultivate, and respect what already exists and belongs here.

Beauty is not separate from stewardship. Often, beauty is what teaches us to care.

When we love the evening light on the porch, we become more protective of the tree that filters it.

When we notice the bees in the herbs, we think differently about what we plant.

When we feel the relief of shade, we understand the value of canopy.

And, when a small old house still serves us well, we may become less eager to replace what could be restored.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. A few less-dramatic mosquito resources for you

Since I did, in fact, choose mosquitoes over the fogger, I thought I’d share a few of the smaller things I’ve been trying instead.

These are not miracle cures, and they are certainly not guarantees. They are simply the lower-impact porch-and-garden defenses I’m more comfortable starting with before resorting to anything that might affect pollinators, birds, beneficial insects, or the living soil.

• Be sure that you don’t have any standing water on your property - it’s easy to miss, make a point to check everywhere.

• Bat Houses — these guys are hungry and will help you manage the population.

• Plant Therapy Lavender essential oil — for a small diffuser, cotton cloth, or porch-side scent ritual. I actually just add a few drops to a palm-sized dollop of my favorite lotion and slather it on. Delicious scent and calming. Works very well for me.

• Essential Oil Coils — gental on humans and pets made with all natural ingredients, these are the old fashioned but eco friendly reliable standard

• Citronella Lantern Candles — useful on still evenings, and at the very least they make the porch feel summery.

• Mosquito Dunks — for standing water areas where mosquitoes may breed. For me that’s my bird baths and also my small fountain.

• Repel Plant-Based Lemon & Eucalyptus Repellent - use this if you don’t like the scent of lavender or don’t want to buy essential oils. It really works.

• Small Vintage Table Fan — deeply unromantic, but often surprisingly effective.

As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. This means I may receive a small commission if you purchase through one of these links, at no additional cost to you. I only recommend products that I have personally used in my own daily life and truly feel good about.

Nothing here is perfect. But for now, these are the kinds of first steps that feel more aligned with caring for the garden as a living place.

Image Credits:

1. Naveen Kumar/unsplash

2. Nayem Islam/unsplash

3. Bridgette Elsner/unsplash

It’s porch sittin’ time.

This is my final letter post for the spring season - how can it be?

As spring draws to a close here in the high country, I thought it would be fun to gather a few favorite things from around the porch before we turn the page to summer.

Some are recent stories, some are from The Gift Library, and a few are simply things that brought me joy this season.

The Tiny Bookcase Tour

One of the unexpected joys of spring for me has been sharing little peeks into my tiny bookcase - a surprisingly revealing glimpse into the books, stories, and curiosities that make a home feel personal. Continuing through summer with this one in the Substack Notes app, if you’d like to join me there.

Spring Garden Fairies

A small reminder that not everything worth discovering needs to be practical or important. Sometimes a garden fairy and a moment of magic are enough.

This weekly Notes series on the Substack app has been a real favorite of many, and I’m planning to continue with Cicely Mary Barker’s Summer Fairies for a touch of sweetness.

Thank you for spending part of your spring here on the porch with me.

Whether you've been reading from the beginning or have only recently pulled up a chair, I'm grateful you're here. Truly.

I'll see you next week, every Friday, as we begin a new season together.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. If we were sharing a proper porch sit together this evening, I'd probably ask: How was your spring? What are you planting, planning, making, reading, or dreaming about this summer? What’s your favorite porch sittin’ beverage? Do you switch from red wine to white for the season? Let me know what’s on your mind…

Leave a comment

Greetings dearest reader,

This guide was created as a companion to the Design Dispatch story, A Meadow Landscape: From Bare Lot to Layered Garden.

Inside, you’ll find a thoughtfully organized collection of trees, shrubs, grasses, meadow plants, pollinator favorites, and seasonal perennials used throughout the Meadow Landscape project in Zone 7. It includes 47 pages of beautifully presented design guidance and inspiration.

The guide includes planting roles, sun and water notes, design principles, color cues and palettes, and quick-reference lists to help you think more intentionally about how layered gardens come together.

Paid members of the porch can download and keep the companion botanical guide from this project, along with a larger view of the design plan to zoom in and study. To access the download scroll down to the bottom of this letter.

What’s Inside the Guide

Table of Contents

Opening Note

How to Use This Guide

Sun & Water Notes

Design Principles Behind The Meadow Landscape

Botanical Inspiration Color Palette

Structural Trees & Shade Canopy

Evergreen Structure & Screening

Meadow & Pollinator Perennials

Grasses & Movement

Rock Garden & Desert Plants

Fragrance & Cottage Garden Plants

Bulbs & Seasonal Layering

Final Thoughts

Quick Reference: Plants by Water Need

Quick Reference: Plants by Sun Exposure

Quick Reference: Plants for Wildlife Habitat & Pollinators

Quick Reference: Plants for Cut Flowers

Quick Reference: Plants with Herbal History

An Important Note on Using this Guide Thoughtfully

Large Image to Download and View

Botanical Inspiration Color Palette (sample page)

The Story Behind the Design Process

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. This was a real labor of love to put together for all you lovely people - I truly hope you enjoy it and I can’t wait to create more gifts that help you craft a smaller, simpler, more beautiful life.

Seasonal Gift Downloads for Paid Members of the Porch 👇🏼

Read more

Greetings my dear reader,

I talk an awful lot about historic and smaller homes. It is truly my passion, and my favorite type of properties to work with homeowners on.

But in reality, the majority of the design projects I work on are large properties and newer homes - and in many cases they are even brand new builds. Often I’m asked to put together the design before the structure of the home is even complete, and in one instance before construction had even begun.

One of the challenges with new-build homes is that everything can feel abrupt.

Fresh walls. Bare soil. Little shade. No sense of age or personality or belonging yet.

This project in Prescott began exactly there - with an empty lot, strong sun, persistent winds, difficult soil, and a desire to create a garden that felt established, welcoming, and connected to the architecture from the very beginning.

This isn’t intended to be a highly technical how-to article or an exhaustive explanation of every plant and design decision.

Instead, I wanted to share more of a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the process - how an empty new-build lot gradually became a layered, livable garden designed around seasonality, structure, beauty, and everyday use.

Even if you’re not particularly interested in gardening itself, I think there’s something fascinating about seeing how thoughtful spaces take shape over time.

Meadow Landscape

A gardener's garden on a newly built 1/3-a​​cre lot, featuring meadows, shade trees, a large water feature, and native sanctuary for birds and wildlife. From bare, tree-less dirt to fabulous in 6 months. The Dells, Prescott, Arizona. USDA Hardiness zone is 7b and the elevation is 5,200 feet. Project completed fall 2022.

The Before

This property is in a large development area on the north side of the community, the kind where they release large sub-developments over time. The natural landscape up there is quite open and a grassland-type ecosystem in the high desert at 5,200 foot elevation.

This means that the newer home lots are quite exposed initially, and because there is a vast landscape up there it’s often rather windy.

When I was brought in, the home was nearly complete but there was literally nothing else. Not a tree in sight. No privacy what-so-ever. The home was large and dominated the lot. The lot had no discernible features - it was just very large and flat and … flat.

The drainage was a disaster. The dirt was - well really clay. The green stuff growing in the clay was not much more than tumbleweed and other scrappy weeds.

The Ask

The homeowners were interested in a landscape for a gardener - the wife had been an active gardener since their earlier life in the Midwest and had come to love the southwest.

Specifically they wanted a less manicured or overly designed looking plan - one with meadows and plantings that would connect to the open grasslands and mountains without a harsh border. There were specific views to maximize for stargazing, evening cocktails, and morning bird watching, as well as pollinators to feed and attract. The need for subtle privacy while keeping the space feeling natural and open was important.

There was a long list of much loved plants to consider - she had very specific varieties in mind - some were headed in the right direction, and some belonged in Ohio.

My role is to interpret, to listen, to get to really know not only the property but also the people who live there. My goal is to turn their wish list into a living canvas that elevates their lifestyle in the ways most meaningful to them.

I’m always a bit overwhelmed at this point with new builds - how to go from nothing to an enchanted space. It’s a lot to envision and pull together.

The Design Thinking

Creating Structure First

I always start with the foundation. Even on an existing older home. It’s like building a house or a layer cake - it’s all about the layers and each layer is only as stable and fabulous as the layer beneath it.

In this case, the space would ultimately be defined by the edges of the property which are the home on the south and two tallish block walls on the sides - the back edge will become a small open wall - really just to keep wildlife out of the space.

From there, I wanted to shape how the landscape would actually feel to move through and experience day to day - the views from inside the home, the pathways through the garden, the moments of pause, and the subtle sense of invitation and discovery as you moved through the space.

You’ll notice that I drew in those site lines with the pale yellow wedges and arrows (you gotta zoom in a bit to see those clearly).

The circulation was defined by walkways, gathering points, living spaces like patios for relaxing and being in the landscape, and of course primary focal points to draw the eye and create a sense of curiosity and destination while moving about.

For the Meadow Garden, the homeowners were looking for that open relaxed feeling, so we weren’t going to be creating garden rooms per se, but I still really wanted a sense of definition and structure.

For this core structure, I also knew we needed some anchor points and shade elements with larger shrubs and trees. I added those in along with a planned sloping rock garden along the west side of the property to soften the shift in elevation - the next house over is on a lot about two to three feet higher up than this one.

Here’s what I came up with, after two earlier renditions that we refined:

Designing for Four Seasons

The living layer of the design includes of course the plantings, as well as the furnishings and structures.

I wanted a seasonal layered bloom progression, with a strong evergreen backbone.

We worked hard at building in textures and winter interest, along with a loosely cohesive color palette.

Let’s face it - in a natural setting you won’t find a 5-color refined color scheme that coordinates with your seating upholstery. And for this garden to feel like it belonged and was well rooted, it needed to be connected to surrounding landscape and climate.

My initial planning focused in on three primary planting zones, and within those I did create loosely themed areas within the larger garden for a sense of movement, function, and sensory interest:

• fragrance garden

• rock garden

• cutting garden

• cactus and succulent beds

• grasses and bulbs meadow

• mediterranean and desert plant garden

• and raised beds for herbs and veg

Balancing Beauty & Practicality

Aside from the aesthetics and sensory enjoyment of this space, there were many more practical elements that needed to be included in the design thinking.

The obvious practical items include things like lighting (although in my view this is one of the most artistic ways to increase the beauty and accessibility of the space), mulching layers and materials, and of course irrigation.

But there’s more to making a landscape successful in the long-term, which are often neglected elements. Things like the useability and access of the spaces by people as they retire and age, the maintenance levels required as the plantings shift through the seasons and mature, and of course supporting and encouraging wildlife - to the extent that the owners make that a priority.

The owners here were avid bird watchers and star gazers. And they had retired a few years earlier and planned to age in place and wanted to continue to enjoy their landscape for as long as possible.

While they were willing to get some maintenance support a couple of times a year, they planned to do most of the weekly and seasonal tasks on their own, so I needed to make selections that weren’t going to be too taxing.

Making a New Build Feel Rooted

Perhaps most of all, the climate and micoclimate of each garden is something that is always at the core of the choices and decisions I make. It’s tricky for me sometimes, because I may be working with homeowners who lived for decades in the mid-west and they often have strong feelings about familiar and favorite plants that just can’t thrive on their property.

You may recall that these homeowners gave me lengthy and very detailed lists of plants that they wanted in their space. It’s hard for me not wanting to disappoint them initially, but I was truly invested in the long term success of their garden and wanted to ensure that our selections would have the best chance of not only surviving but thriving.

When I’m working on a huge transformation like a new build, I’m planning for the maturity of the landscape.

And I always have that conversation with the homeowners - repeatedly - where I explain that the initial plantings will take several seasons, and in some cases many years, to reach maturity.

The Final Design Plan

The After

The homeowners here were thrilled and excited with the design we came up with.

It took us about 3 months of work to complete the process.

And then the installation finally could begin - which took about 6 months to complete.

Sure enough, I remember the homeowners grappling with the small size of the plants and especially the trees and shrubs. We had spent so much time envisioning the mature landscape and planning for that.

We got to be friends during this process and it was such a thrill to see their excitement and joy as the garden settled in and came to life.

After three seasons, they could see the larger trees really spreading and anchoring the space.

We did have a couple of failures - plants that just didn’t do well. And that’s totally normal, to be expected. There’s a period of adjustment, tweaking and fussing that occurs during that first full season.

It’s a process. It takes time. And then, it’s a living and shifting space that continues to forever evolve.

And then finally, the magic of the landscape begins to feel settled, softening the home and wrapping around it like it had always belonged there.

The Garden Beginning to Mature

In its third full season, I captured a few snapshots - this was spring in 2025. And this garden is even more glorious in autumn.

I never tire of the satisfaction and joy that comes from bringing someone’s vision and dream to life - their dream, not mine. Every landscape has a personality, and it should truly reflect that of the homeowners who inhabit that space every day.

Gardens are one of the few creative works that continue unfolding long after the design drawings are finished, and the installation is completed.

Client Reflection

We cannot say we had a 'good' experience with Miriam of The Whiskey Porch – it was an exceptional experience.

We contacted four local landscape companies to discuss our landscaping and design concerns. Only two responded back. Only one had listened to what we wanted; Miriam of The Whiskey Porch. Yes, listened and then interviewed us.

She wanted to get a real feeling of what we envisioned and desired. The initial plan was wonderful. It incorporated the “yard” feeling that we wanted to achieve and took some things to a better place.

Plant selection? She also listened there and brought a font of knowledge regarding plants to us. She is an exceptional master gardener with insight as to how plants will grow, mature and thrive in the area.

​We couldn’t be more pleased with this extraordinary experience.

Kudos to a job well done.

The Meadow Landscape: Curated Botanical Guide

[ A Seasonal Gift for Paid Members of the Porch ]

A thoughtfully organized collection of trees, shrubs, grasses, meadow plants, pollinator favorites, and seasonal perennials used throughout the Meadow Landscape project in Zone 7. 47 pages of beautifully presented design guidance.

Paid members of the porch can unlock my companion botanical guide from this project👇🏼 , including botanical names, planting roles, and growing notes, and the color palette, and a larger view of the design plan.

Thank you for joining me for this behind-the-scenes look at creating a living landscape from nothing. It’s a rewarding and demanding process that I feel so fortunate to spend part of my days engaged in.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. If you’ve been with me for a while, you know I usually send out my Friday letters in the morning. There was a lot of good stuff to put together for this one, so now it’s gotten to mid-afternoon and I’m just finally hitting send. Pheww! Have a fabulous evening and weekend my friends.

One of my favorite spring meals from the kitchen garden is French sorrel and leek soup with fresh dill.

Bright, lemony, comforting, and deeply seasonal, French sorrel is surprisingly easy to grow. While it’s often confused with spinach - it’s actually more closely related to buckwheat and rhubarb.

This spring soup is one of my favorite ways to use it - simple ingredients and that unmistakable bright tang from the sorrel itself. It feels both humble and elegant at the same time, like something you might have been served in a small countryside kitchen generations ago.

Sorrel is surprisingly difficult to find in American grocery stores, but wonderfully easy to grow at home, especially in cooler climates. The leaves emerge early, bright green and tender, in early spring. The plant is hardy to zone 3, though it tends to struggle in hot, dry climates with intense sun.

Serve it with crème fraîche, clipped pea sprouts, and a crusty bread slathered with good, cultured butter.

Read more

I hope spring has fully settled herself into your little part of the world, and that she’s smiling with you.

A funny thing happened recently.

A few new readers have found their way here to the porch over the past few weeks - hello! And Welcome!

And I realized I’ve never really properly introduced myself - or explained what exactly this space is meant to be.

You’ve seen the gardens and our historic bungalow, Juniper Hill Cottage. The flowers and porch sittin’. The thoughts on beauty, smaller living, design, creativity, and seasonal life.

But I hadn’t really gathered all of those threads together in one place before.

And so this week, I finally sat down and wrote something called Welcome to the Porch.

What started as a simple introduction became something much more personal than I expected - it became a reflection on the winding path that led me here, from Silicon Valley and the NFL to this little 1924 cottage in the mountains of northern Arizona. And to you.

More than that, though, it became a reflection on the kind of life I think many of us are deeply longing for now:

A life that feels more like home.
More intentional.
More connected.
Smaller, simpler, and more beautiful.

Not perfect.
Not performative.
Just honest, meaningful, and deeply lived.

If you’re newer here, or if you’ve been reading along for awhile and wondering what exactly “The Whiskey Porch” really is - well - I wrote this for you.

And before I go, I just wanted to thank you for spending part of your Fridays here with me.

Truly.

Writing you these letters has become one of my favorite parts of the week.

Some days I wonder if it’s silly to spend so much time talking about beauty, gardens, creativity, home, and seasonal living while the world feels so crazy and chaotic.

But the older I get, the more I believe these things aren’t trivial at all.

I think beauty matters.
I think joy and laughter matters.
I think creating a smaller and simpler life matters.

Maybe now more than ever.

And I’m so grateful you’re here beside me for it. I’ll see you next week.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. If you feel like replying, I would love to know how you found your way here to the porch. I always enjoy hearing what part of the world you are visiting from and what you’re thinking about. What projects are on your weekend list?

Leave a comment

I’m so glad you found me.

I’m Miriam - founder of The Whiskey Porch, my Creative Design Studio here in the high-country of northern Arizona.

From executive leadership in Silicon Valley & the NFL to designing spaces and lives shaped by place, season & beauty - it’s been a windy and somewhat unexpected journey that eventually led me here, to this space, and to you.

If you’ve ever felt that overwhelm of modern life, that drifting and disconnect from something essential, and something grounded, then perhaps you’ve found the right place.

Here on the porch, we explore the art of living well through thoughtful home, garden, and seasonal design.

This goes deeper than decorating or craft to focus on seasonal living, creativity, and the small daily rituals that help life feel rooted and meaningful.

And this is not your typical slow-living content - I promise!

We aren’t ignoring politics or the chaos we see and feel around us - we are nurturing the good we still deeply crave: beauty, meaning, joy, connection, creativity, laughter, and home.

Holding on to these ephemeral bits of life can be a challenge, and I’m here to help you seek the joy and beauty - always the beauty. I believe these things matter more now than ever before.

The Whiskey Porch is both a real place and a metaphorical one.

The real Whiskey Porch belongs to our historic 1924 Craftsman bungalow here in Prescott - in the mountains of northern Arizona. (I’ll share the story of that porch and it’s name below.)

And the metaphorical porch is the space we gather together, here - to slow down a little, notice more deeply, and create lives that feel smaller, simpler, and more beautiful.

Locally, I design timeless homes and gardens as one cohesive whole, integrating architecture, landscape, and the rhythms of seasonal living.

Through my Creative Studio, my work also extends into publishing, handcrafted work, and occasional programs and workshops designed to help you create thoughtful homes and gardens of your own.

I didn’t always understand these ideas so clearly. This way of living took time - decades.

Like many of you, I spent years chasing a very different definition of success.

I have no regrets but, the truth is, I arrived at this porch in a somewhat unexpected manner. It wasn’t one “aha” moment, but more of a slow realization.

A dream at first. Then came the doubt and fear that often accompany meaningful change. And then one foot after the other it began to shift.

Now, of course, looking back it feels like I’ve come home - literally and figuratively.

And I know now that it’s entirely possible to build a life that feels more aligned and meaningful. While I sort of wish I’d made this shift earlier in life, I wouldn’t have the perspective to truly relish it the way that I do now.

And it certainly took years to really get to know myself well enough to make the truly personal choices for fulfillment rather than following the inherited definitions of success.

Perhaps you’ve experienced some of this yourself?

Recently, I wanted to share this personal story, in more detail, and it became a letter called When Success Stops Feeling Like Success. It’s about walking away from Silicon Valley, the NFL, and a big life - to create something smaller, simpler, and more beautiful.

Many of the changes and decisions were initially very practical and tangible. This was perfectly fine, because big changes come with little steps.

But slowly, almost without realizing it, I began making choices that felt more personal, more intentional, and ultimately more honest.

I wasn’t re-inventing myself. I was finding myself and setting an anchor. A Truer Kind of Honesty is a reflection on truth, performance, and living what we believe.

I like to think that every change and decision was entirely intentional.

Do you know that saying “be careful what you wish for”?

The truth is that sometimes you get what you need - even without realizing it. And then, as those wiser than I have said, you need to ‘be ready when the luck happens’. Be open to opportunity.

We didn’t really intend to buy an old bungalow. It was the last thing on our minds.

But one day trip changed everything, and set us on a path toward reinvention that would eventually grow into The Whiskey Porch and our compass, and my “small-not-tiny” design philosophy that now guides so much of my work and life.

The story of that unexpected turn - and how we We Accidentally Bought a Bungalow - is about openness, reinvention, and the surprising ways life sometimes leads us exactly where we were meant to be.

Since that day, 16 years ago, I have come to realize that beauty, design, gardens, creativity, and seasonality are not luxuries - they shape the quality of our lives.

They bring depth and meaning, and a rhythm that is a true gift.

And over the years, I’ve found myself returning often to what I really mean when I use the word “design.”

🌼Not Instagram-perfect

🌼Not Pinterest-influencer

🌼Not trend-driven, perfomative luxury

To me, thoughtful design is something far more personal and meaningful:

• thoughtful spaces that support emotional wellbeing

• gardens that reconnect us to rhythm and attention

• beauty that nourishes us deeply

• creativity woven into ordinary life

• homes that feel intentional and lived-in

• and the understanding that smaller and simpler can still feel rich, expansive, and deeply beautiful

These ideas eventually became the heart of Creating Beauty Is Enough - a true story about beauty, the art of contentment, and what really matters.

Perhaps that’s really what The Whiskey Porch has been about all along - contentment & possibility. Holding onto the good: joy, beauty, connection, creativity, laughter, and home.

If some part of you has been longing for that, then perhaps you’ve found your way here for a reason. ✨

With contentment & possibility,

There’s something truly remarkable about herbs - and I’m not talking just about cooking with culinary herbs.

Last week was National Herb Day, and it got me thinking about the breadth and value of herbs in a life well lived. While I’m not an herbalist or certified in any way, I am truly in awe of herbs and have spent quite some time and space in my gardens exploring and learning.

I find it so thrilling to remember all that herbs (and plants in general) have contributed to our modern way of life. Long before herbs became just a trifle in your garden patch to spruce up your salad or soup, they lived comfortably as an essential element of life.

Herbs were integral in culinary traditions of course, but also in health and wellness, rituals, self-care, art, fragrance.

Herbs were woven into everyday life.

We lost that somewhere along the way.

Over time, that old wisdom has began reshaping my own garden as well.

When I first began setting up my current kitchen garden, I had set aside one large raised bed for culinary herbs along with a couple of tomato plants, tomatillos, and such.

The other beds were dedicated to herbs of all kinds. I have 6 very large raised beds. I think at one point I was growing and getting to know something like 78 different herbs. I get a lot raised eyebrows when I mention that. It’s apparent that most people don’t realize there are that many herbs to begin with.

Most of us hear the word herb and immediately think of basil, parsley, or dill.

But herbs are far more expansive than that.

Historically, the word referred less to a specific culinary category and more to useful plants - plants valued for flavor, fragrance, medicine, ritual, dye, tea, beauty, or daily household life.

Herbs occupy one of the oldest and broadest plant traditions in human history. Some nourish us. Some heal. Some perfume the air or calm the nervous system. Some flavor food, attract pollinators, or simply make a garden feel alive. Many do all of those things at once.

Herbs are among the few plants that appeal to nearly every sense at once: their visual beauty, their scent and taste, the buzz of the pollinators, and the structure and texture of the leaves and blooms.

Just a few examples of some of the herbs I grow - to tempt your senses and imagination:

• Lavender - soft silver foliage, calming fragrance, violet blooms humming with bees, tea for restfulness, bundles for linen cupboards, and one of the most sensory-rich plants a garden can offer.

• Chamomile - tiny sun-like flowers with an apple-like scent, soothing evening tea, pollinator favorite, and a gentle reminder that usefulness can also be delicate and beautiful.

• Yarrow - feathery foliage, broad flower clusters in muted earthy tones, long medicinal history, drought tolerance, and a sweet wild meadow quality.

• Bee Balm - vibrant shaggy blooms alive with hummingbirds and bees, aromatic foliage, herbal tea uses, and a joyful burst of midsummer energy.

• Fennel - airy fern-like texture that catches evening light beautifully, sweet anise fragrance, culinary use from fronds to seed, and host plant for swallowtail butterflies.

• Hyssop (also known as Agastache) - intensely aromatic foliage, upright spires of blooms beloved by pollinators, centuries of ritual and medicinal association, and a lovely old-world garden presence.

• Lemon Balm - bright citrus fragrance released at the slightest touch, calming teas, fresh green texture, and one of those plants that almost invites you to slow down and breathe deeply. (I’m sipping some warm lemon balm tea right now.)

• Anise Hyssop - soft licorice-mint scent, lavender flower spikes buzzing with pollinators, tea and herbal uses, and a graceful prairie-garden feel.

• Sage - velvety leaves in soft gray-green tones and even purple, earthy fragrance, deeply savory culinary uses, drought resilience, and timeless beauty in both herb and ornamental gardens.

• Rosemary - evergreen structure, resinous fragrance released by warm sun, blue flowers for pollinators, culinary versatility, and centuries-old symbolism tied to memory and remembrance.

As my knowledge and understanding of herbs has grown and expanded, so too has the way I use them in my landscape.

I mentioned my deep dive growing 78 herbs in the kitchen garden a few years ago.

Now, it’s safe to say that every single bed, pot, and planting space on my property is fully integrated with plants for beauty and structure, and blooms for cutting - many of which are actually herbs. Amazingly, almost all of them are perennial as well.

I no longer restrict the herbs to a “kitchen garden“ beds, but incorporate them everywhere in the landscape with abandon.

And, honestly, I’ve also come to know that so many of the plants that I grew just for the landscape value, are actually old world herbs.

It’s come full circle.

Small rituals

There are so many simple ways herbs can enhance our daily lives and well-being, aside from the health benefits that require the aid of an herbalist.

Here are just a few small rituals that make life just a bit sweeter:

Like sunshine and crushed lemon leaves - delicate, bright, and sweet

Lemon balm (Melissa) bruises easily and releases its scent immediately, is best gathered in early morning or late afternoon, and fresh leaves taste softer and brighter than dried leaves.

How-to:

• Clip a small handful of fresh lemon balm

• Lightly crush or bruise the leaves between your fingers

• Pour hot water over them into a small teapot or large mug

• Steep 5–10 minutes

• Enjoy

Here’s quick little how-to video for you:

This is less a recipe than a simple method - you can use countless other herbs for this reset.

Somewhere between evergreen forest, warm earth, and sea air

Warm steam releases the aromatic oils, and the bouquet brings nature indoors.

How-to:

• Gather several rosemary stems (or rosemary + eucalyptus)

• Tie loosely with twine

• Hang from the showerhead where it catches steam and just a tiny bit of water

• Refresh weekly

• Breathe

This turns an ordinary shower into something sensory and intentional.

Like warm summer air drifting through linen curtains - nostalgic, floral, and soothing

Fresh lavender stems can just be cut off the plant, trimmed to a short posy bouquet, leaves and all, and tied with ribbon. I like to place it right next to my pillow.

How-to for a sachet:

• Dry lavender bundles upside down

• Strip blossoms once dry by gently rubbing the stems

• Place in a small linen pouch or shallow ceramic bowl

• Gently refresh by rubbing between fingers

Lavender will soothe your mind and lift your spirit.

Herbs remind us that a beautiful life is often built from very small things repeated with care. Perhaps that’s part of their enduring wisdom.

Small things, really. And yet somehow, these tiny rituals have a way of making a home feel more alive.

The elemental beauty of herbs is a gift worth relishing.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. Thank you for being here with me. I’d truly love to know - is there an herb tied to memory, family, or ritual in your own life? Rosemary, mint, lavender, dill… these plants seem to carry stories with them. Oh, and if you have herbs growing nearby, pause for a moment sometime this weekend and simply brush your fingers across the leaves before you walk by. The fragrance released in warm spring air feels like a bit of magic.

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Not gardening in Zone-7?

No worries - you can easily adjust your email preferences anytime to skip the monthly Garden Keeping Journal and still receive all the other stories, reflections, and design inspiration from The Whiskey Porch.

How was your “May Day” yesterday?

In many parts of the world, May 1st is traditionally the beginning of the summer season. Of course, it's still really spring here in the high country - and technically the summer solstice isn't until mid-June.

Good news! May is about planting and blooms and birds and pollinators.

That said, it’s important to stay alert.

We still have high chances of overnight frosts which can zap the life out of tender annuals, and newly planted perennials that are very young. So, it's wise to keep an eye on the forecast and keep your frost fabric handy until about May-15th or so.

I keep mine rolled up in a bin under a nearby deck - so it’s out of sight, but easy to grab.

And, ironically, May is one of our drier and hotter months. So that means that getting your watering system going and keeping it well maintained is a priority now, as well as mulching and shade.

May at Juniper Hill Cottage

A few behind-the-scenes notes from the garden as spring begins to settle in.

🌼What I’m Planting

• Plum Tomato - from a a nursery start - yep, I’m taking a shortcut this year 🤦🏼‍♀️

• Scabiosa ‘Fama White’ *

• Sea Holly (Eryngium zabelii) ‘Big Blue’

• Tall Verbena (Verbena bonariensis)

*direct sowing seeds in the ground

🌼What’s Blooming

• Climbing Rose ‘4th of July’ - it’s so early but it’s busting out striped blooms

• Rosa Banksiae (Lady Banks Rose) ‘Alba Plena’ - this is the white bloom

• Tulipa (tulips) ‘Nora’ - which just happens to share my granddaughter’s name

🌼My Biggest Challenge

Typically May brings some pretty dry and warm weather to the high-country. Because of our elevation at 5,600 feet, the intensity of the sun is very real. While I can’t predict what this month will bring, I did take some precautions.

We extended our rebar shade structure in the courtyard kitchen garden this winter and I use a 40% industrial grade fabric that you barely notice. But it should take the edge off that intense heat and minimize the need to over-water in that space.

I’ll let you know what happens.

🌼Last Month’s Lesson Learned

I need to get ahead of spring.

April carries a long list of garden tasks, and between annual mountain bike events and hosting, and an uptick in local design work, it becomes too much all at once.

It would be luxurious to have extra spring help in the landscape, but the truth is that I choose to do it all myself.

Lesson Learned: Next year I’m going to shift all the soil prep and composting done in February and March rather than leave it for April. That’s the plan anyway.

About These Checklists

While we don’t offer garden maintenance services here at The Whiskey Porch, these monthly Garden Keeping Checklists are designed to help you stay on track and feel supported through the seasons.

Whether you’re handling everything yourself or working with a maintenance crew, you’ll find the tips practical and flexible - especially if you’re gardening in or around Prescott, Arizona, or in other Zone-7 and neighboring climates anywhere in the world.

Each checklist reflects the rhythm I experience here in Prescott’s downtown microclimate, so your own garden may vary slightly depending on your elevation, location, and what you’re growing. Generally speaking, these notes align with USDA Zone 7b.

Of course, no two years are exactly alike, even in the same zone. Some seasons bring an early hard freeze in late October, while others hold off until December. Keep that in mind as you plan your tasks.

These guides are geared toward landscape gardens that include mostly perennials, with a sprinkling of annuals, veggies and herbs.

To learn more about why I started this Garden Keeping Journal:

Let’s get into it!

Read more

I’m so glad you’re here. Today is National Historic Preservation Day, and I wanted to share my evening strolls through a historic neighborhood in the high-country of northern Arizona.

Almost every evening, my little shadow, Ibis-the-yellow-lab, and I head out for a walkabout.

Often we wander up into the hills and national forest behind our home. But other times we stay on the sidewalks and meander through town. She’s an old girl now at 13, and the sidewalks are a bit easier for her to navigate.

And for me, I simply love noticing the details on the old historic homes in this part of town. And very often, the best part is saying hello to the owners having a little porch sit.

As you may know, our home is a 1924 Craftsman bungalow listed on the National Historic Register. This part of town, in and around the lovely Courthouse Square, is overflowing with homes dating from the mid-19th century through the mid-20th.

Over the past several months, I started photographing these scenes as we walked and began sharing them on my Substack Notes as a small bit of daily inspiration.

So today I thought I’d share a few of these little gems here, since I know most of you don’t see those daily Notes, which are on the Substack app.

These aren’t large houses or grand architecture.

More often, they are small cottages and porches that seem to carry their history and quirks with quiet pride. Some are a bit ragged with age, while others have been lovingly maintained.

None of these homes are particularly large or polished - or impressive by today’s standards. But they have something many newer houses seem to be missing.

They feel welcoming. They seem to have soul.

They sit close to the street. Their porches invite you to pause. Some have plaques proclaiming their age and historic designation. Many do not.

These homes and porches have witnessed so much of the history of our little village. A few still have old hitching posts out front for horses.

But more than anything, it’s the tiny details that make me smile each time I pass by - the workmanship and artful touches that you simply don’t see very often anymore.

When I think about the time, care, and creativity that went into building these homes and porches, I’m always a little in awe. Much of it was done by hand and without the benefit of mass-produced materials. That’s true craftsmanship.

These little cottages are a joy to wander past.

Happy strolling my friends!

With contentment & possibility,

Did you know you can ‘like’ and comment on this letter?

If you’d like to join the conversation, you can follow the link below to read and respond in the Substack app. It’s free and ad-free.

Get more from Miriam🌼Carlson-Maier in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

P.S. I have so much fun sharing beauty and design with you. As ever, thank you for being here with me.

Hello my dear readers.

Welcome to the porch.

This letter is the fourth and final in a short series exploring smaller living - from the original invitation, to the idea of right-sizing, to the intentional choice itself.

And today, I’ll share the surprising gifts that begin to appear on the other side of that decision.

On the surface, downsizing might feel like loss

Most people approach the idea of downsizing through the language of subtraction:

less house

less storage

fewer rooms

less status

less “proof”

I get it. It can feel like giving up so much. Especially if your identity has been tied to that very American idea of ‘success’ or ‘permanence’.

I recently shared my experience with that process in my post When Success Stops Feeling Like Success. It was tough to walk away from so much - at first.

And the only alternative to the big life I was leading, at the time, was the tiny-house craze. It was cute. And very romantic. But that type of extreme was not any more sustainable than where I already was, in my view.

Then you start to realize what you’ve gained

After settling into a smaller space and making it your own, you begin to see that what you have gained is not less. It’s more. More space of a different kind.

more time

more energy

more financial breathing room

more ease in maintenance

more clarity

more freedom to travel

more capacity for beauty

more presence

less stuff to manage

less work

less space holding unresolved accumulation

more possibility

more connection to the outside

What you gain isn't less. It's more of what actually matters.

Home becomes a participant, not a project

Don’t get me wrong. Any random old smaller home may not be the answer. It needs to be well designed and function thoughtfully in a way that fits with your life and your needs.

If you can find that, or make the adjustments to achieve that, then the house stops being something you serve. And it begins to serve your life.

We may not have a garage here at Juniper Hill Cottage, a 1924 craftsman bungalow. But we also don’t have a garage that collects boxes, and junk, and miscellaneous stuff we don’t need. We make it work quite easily by other creative solutions, one of which of course is holding onto less stuff.

We may not have guest rooms waiting for occasional guests with large beds, and empty closets. But we are able to convert various spaces on the property to host visiting children and guests - and we also have many nearby historic inns and boutique hotels to put up our guests in if needed. And I don’t have to clean or heat and cool those extra rooms for 90% of the year.

We may not have a formal dining room or even a sit-in kitchen. But what we do have is a gorgeous dining room that functions as an everyday gathering space and is only steps from the kitchen. And we have open and covered porches around the house that function as extended entertaining spaces that connect us to our land and gardens.

This house and property feels lived with, not managed.

Maintenance no longer dominates my weekends.

Every space in this home has access to windows and views and sunlight and fresh air.

This home holds the possibility of aging in place comfortably and that provides a huge sense of contentment and peace. A different kind of permanence. And an easeful future.

Choosing enough is a design decision and an identity shift

Enough is not accidental.

It’s a lifestyle and identity decision that requires intention and honesty. It may require courage. And strength to choose before life chooses for you.

And it requires trusting that beauty, comfort and a life well lived does not depend on large or more spaces.

So, my challenge to you is that instead of asking:

“Should I downsize”?

Maybe the question should really be:

“What would become possible if home asked less of me, and gave more back?”

Or, “What would change if enough become the goal instead of more?”

And, that’s a wrap on this short 4-part series.

ICYMI - the first three segments:

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. So friends, tell me what you think?

Is living a smaller, simpler, more beautiful life something that you ponder occasionally? Is it just a nice idea but something you resist, or can’t process? Are there specific things that hold you back or a timeline you’re on? Or - have you already made the shift and have good or bad experiences? As ever, I’d love to hear your comments!

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Over the past few weeks, the garden has been slowly waking up.

A bit of movement here, a new bloom there.

And we’ll just forget about that insanely odd hot spell that most of the country had several weeks back - glad that’s over.

As many of you know, we are at 6,000 foot elevation here in northern-Arizona and typically winter still makes appearances up to early May. For now, it’s been gorgeous and I’m jumping into spring.

I’ve gathered some of my recent garden glimpses (shared regularly on Substack Notes) for you to get a peek here in your in-box. I hope you enjoy.

Before our walk-about, a quick reminder:

I opened a special Spring Porch Invitation that runs through next week only. Alond with a limited release of original glass and wood artwork from the art studio.

The Invitation

Early Spring Garden Glimpses at Juniper Hill Cottage

Hellebores enthusiastically taking over the late winter garden.

They begin in February and some varieties will still be blooming in May if they enjoy good shade and moisture.

While most of the garden still sleeps, these little beauties seem perfectly content blooming through the cold - deep burgundy, soft pink, and the most subtle shades in between.

No wonder they’re my winter garden obsession.

Tiny white narcissus tucked into the river rock border on the south side of the cottage- one of those easy-to-miss little spring arrivals that rewards anyone who slows down enough to notice.

(Ibis is photo bombing again.)

And across the walkway, a reclaimed old steel chair keeping watch in the garden -doing what old garden pieces do best: adding a little soul and story.

The pansies are still holding their place, but the sedum is already rising up through the soil and enthusiastically taking over.

Early spring always begins this way - one season making room for the next.

Just look at those faces.

Violas and a Euphorbia… it doesn’t get much sweeter than this on a spring morning.

Tulips, snapdragons dancing in the wild spring breeze, and Nellie supervising—naturally.

Is spring dancing where you are?

The annual late-winter shuffle in the kitchen garden: frost cloth off, shade cloth on. I’ve got the whole transformation for you in under a minute.

The garden always seems to know what season it is - even when I’m still catching up.

Thanks for stopping by the porch for a moment.

And in case you haven’t had a chance to check out the monthly Garden Keeping Journal, here is April’s checklist for you. Beginning in May, these monthly guides will be available to paid subscribers.

With contentment & possibility,

P.S. So how is spring coming along where you’re at? Is it painfully slow? Are you getting more time outside in the garden? I’d love to hear. 👇🏼

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