Home and Garden

I still remember the way my nana’s kitchen window looked on a rainy Sunday morning—lined with plump little African violets, all bursting with color like a row of velvet teacups. She didn’t fuss much with them, but goodness, they bloomed like they had something to prove. Lavender, deep purple, the occasional pink one… every bloom looked like it had just woken up from a spa day. I used to think she had some sort of magic touch. But one afternoon, while helping her make tea, she spilled the beans with a wink: “It’s the Epsom salts, honey.” Well, of all …

A couple summers ago, I had the kind of tomato garden that made me feel like I really knew what I was doing. Fat, glossy green leaves. Clusters of baby fruit. I was already planning who was getting fresh tomatoes in a brown paper bag. And then one morning… they wilted. Not just a little droop — like, fully hunched over, leaves sad and limp like they’d had a rough night. I went from proud tomato mama to full-blown panic mode in about 30 seconds. Sound familiar? If your tomato plants are looking worse for wear and you’re not sure …

You ever drive past those tall, fuzzy plants on the side of the road — the ones with the giant soft leaves and bright yellow flowers shooting straight up like candles? I used to ignore them, too. They just looked like… weeds. Until I found out they weren’t. Turns out, that humble little plant is called mullein (Verbascum thapsus if you’re feeling fancy), and it’s been helping people breathe easier, sleep better, and soothe sore throats for centuries. I wish I’d known sooner. My grandma probably did — she was always simmering oddball teas on the stove when we were …

There’s something heartbreakingly quiet about walking into your garden and noticing your plants aren’t quite themselves. A couple of summers ago, I found myself standing over my tomato beds with a cup of coffee in one hand, staring at yellowing leaves and thinking, “What on earth went wrong?” You know that moment — when the plants you’ve tended to like children start looking a little… sad. Maybe it’s cucumbers with stunted growth, tomatoes with curled leaves, or peppers refusing to fruit. Been there. I’ve sat on the back porch, dirt under my nails, wondering if it was all a lost …

A few springs ago, I was fussing over my roses — beautiful, yes, but a bit lackluster. They were healthy enough, sure, but their blooms were timid. Almost shy. I remember standing in my muddy clogs, coffee in hand, wondering what I was doing wrong. A few days later, my neighbor, Jean — a no-nonsense gardener who always has the kind of yard you see in magazines — leaned over the fence and said, “Try a little Epsom salt. Just a spoonful in a gallon of water. Works wonders.” Now, I don’t usually go chasing trends or magic tricks. But …

Let me tell you something that might sound a little out there — the best thing I ever did for my orchid was squeeze a lemon on it. Not the whole lemon, and not directly, of course. But I had this poor orchid, bless its heart, just clinging to life. Its leaves were soft and droopy, the blooms had long since fallen, and every time I walked by, I could almost hear it sigh. I’d tried everything — less water, more light, fancy orchid fertilizer that cost more than my Sunday roast — and nothing worked. Then one day, while …

I still remember the first time I planted hydrangeas. I was so excited — I picked the prettiest spot in my backyard, nestled them in like babies, and waited for the magic. And oh, did they bloom that first summer — big, pillowy clusters of blue and pink that made the whole garden feel like a watercolor painting. But the next year? They barely bloomed. The leaves drooped. By August, they looked more like a patch of regret than anything else. If that sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Hydrangeas are stunning, but they can also be a bit dramatic when …

You know, when I first started gardening, I thought pruning meant hacking things back until they looked neat. I’ll never forget the year I “tidied up” my hydrangeas in early spring… only to get a whole lotta green and not a single bloom. I remember standing there, garden shears in hand, feeling personally victimized by my own plants. Since then, I’ve learned that pruning hydrangeas isn’t just about keeping things tidy. It’s a quiet ritual—part science, part intuition—that, when done right, leads to those big, pillowy blooms we all dream about. So let’s break this down together, gardener to gardener, …

I’ll be the first to admit it—when I started mulching years ago, I was doing it all wrong. I had the prettiest flower bed in the neighborhood… for about two weeks. Then the leaves started yellowing, weeds poked through like they owned the place, and one of my azaleas straight-up gave up on life. Turns out, mulch isn’t just there to make your garden look tidy—it’s part science, part art. And if you’re making one of these common mistakes, your plants could be struggling more than they let on. Let’s walk through the top 15 mulching missteps that might be …

You know those little discoveries in life that feel like a secret someone should’ve told you years ago? That’s exactly how I felt the first time I learned you could grow plants without any soil at all. No dirt under your nails. No messy spills on the counter. Just a glass jar, a bit of water, and a cutting from a plant. And just like that, I was hooked. If you’re like me—a little older, a little wiser, and a whole lot busier than you used to be—this method might just become your new favorite way to keep things green …