Planting Perennials (And Why I’m Done with Annuals — In My Garden and My Life)

Monday, June 1, 2026

I just cannot get over how beautiful this day is. It’s been in the 70s, low humidity, sunshine pouring down on me and the humidity is low — and tonight it’ll cool all the way down to the upper 40s. Perfect sleeping weather. Perfect gardening weather. Honestly? Perfect thinking weather.

I’ve been out in the garden a lot lately, and I’m really proud of how it’s coming along. But somewhere between digging in the dirt and watching my new plants settle into their beds, a thought stopped me in my tracks:

Redesigning my exterior is a metaphor for my life.

Bear with me, because I think this one is worth unpacking.

The Year I Chose Perennials

This season, I made a very intentional decision. No annuals. Only perennials.

Annuals are beautiful — I won’t pretend otherwise. They burst onto the scene, dazzle you all summer, and then they’re gone. You start over every spring, buying new plants, replanting from scratch, reinvesting the same time and money just to get back to where you were. There’s nothing wrong with them. I’ve planted plenty.

But this year, I want something different. I want plants that grow deep roots. Plants that will return year after year, expanding and filling in, providing abundant beauty and joy with very little maintenance or further investment on my part. I’m putting in the work now — and yes, the expense — so I can reap the rewards for years to come.

I’m also planting intentionally. Native Ohio plants that attract bees and butterflies. Pollinators. Life-bringers. I want my yard to be a place that sustains not just beauty, but an entire living ecosystem.

And then I realized — I’m doing the same thing in my personal life.

Investing in What Lasts

Somewhere along the way, I spent a lot of energy on “annuals” — things that felt good in the moment but required constant replanting. Habits that didn’t stick. Relationships that drained more than they gave. Distractions dressed up as self-care.

Now I’m doing things differently. I’m moving my body every day in ways that actually bring me joy — not punishment, joy. I’m eating less processed food and more whole foods. I’m joining clubs in my area, putting down roots, being intentional about meeting friends for a walk or dinner. I’m watching very little TV. I’m choosing nature over news, dharma over drama.

A recent retreat I went on (I’ll share all the deets on an upcoming post) opened up my mind and body to so many new thoughts and ideas. I came back feeling like something had cracked open in the best possible way. I’m expanding my mind, my consciousness, my connections. And I feel so much freer and lighter than I ever thought I could.

Having Fun in the Process

The Long Game

Here’s the truth about perennials: the first year, they can look a little underwhelming. You plant them, water them, tend to them, and sometimes you think — is this even working? But they’re not underperforming. They’re doing the most important work underground, growing the deep roots that will anchor everything that comes after.

That’s where I am right now. I’m in the root-growing season of my life.

I’m not looking for the flashy annual bloom. I’m investing in something that will sustain me — that will come back stronger each year, that will spread and deepen and fill in the spaces that used to feel empty.

I’m planting lavender and native wildflowers. I’m planting friendships and morning walks. I’m planting stillness and intention and curiosity. I’m choosing pollinators — people, practices, and places that bring life to my life.

And for the first time in a very long time, I am genuinely excited to be alive. To experience this. To live life to the fullest. 🌿

The garden is coming along beautifully.

And so am I.