The Year of Weeds (and Why I’m Finally Calling in Reinforcements)

A Garden Update from the Muddiest Summer We’ve Ever Had

I should’ve known the minute July hit with back-to-back rainstorms. But even then, I didn’t expect ten full inches of water to pour down in less than four weeks. That’s unheard of here in our little corner of Saskatchewan, especially after nine consecutive years of drought.

The big Farming crops on our family farm? Thrilled. Us flower farmers over here at Ophelia? A little less so.

Let’s just say, this wasn’t the dreamy midsummer harvest I had in mind.

The Year of Too Much Water

It all started with wind. Fierce, 90km/hr gusts that whipped through the yard and made even planting out feel like a risky game. Some seedlings never stood a chance. And once the skies opened up? It just kept coming. Yellowing leaves, rot, mildew, and weeds? soo tall. I’ve been direct sowing whatever I can to salvage blank spots in the field, but some days the only thing thriving is the crabgrass.

Normally, I stay ahead of it. I love this part, honestly, the rhythm of deadheading, harvesting, watching the rows grow fuller each day. But this year? I couldn’t even get to them. Our yard turned into a boot-sucking pit of sludgy, thick clay. That famous Saskatchewan base that’s a blessing in drought suddenly became our greatest nemesis.

I’m not exaggerating when I say the mud here is kind of legendary. Good for farm land, yes. Great for retaining the tiniest bit of moisture in a dry season? Absolutely. But after this much water? It turns into a gluey, gunky, can’t-move mess. It’s like slop. And it has made simple tasks like weeding, harvesting, and walking (yep, just walking) nearly impossible.

Enter: The Pivot

And yet, this season of overwhelm made room for a big shift.

I’m thrilled to share that we’re officially offering something new from Ophelia Farm Co: Wholesale Flowers for Flower Shops. Something we’ve quietly dreamed about for a while, but didn’t quite have the bandwidth for, until now.

We had to rethink our rows anyway. Re-plant yet another batch of zinnias after the snaps failed. Adjust to the new (shorter) growing window. So we pivoted. Adaptability has become one of my most overused superpowers, maybe a little too relied on the past 8 years in this business of mine,  but here we are. Still blooming. Just differently.

Back in April, those basement-grown seedlings looked like stars. The kind of healthy that makes you believe in magic. But Mother Nature had other plans. On the upside, I barely had to water this year. Which means what we saved on irrigation might just go toward something more exciting next season, like a permanent arch or even a beautiful firepit (can you tell I’m clinging to the bright side?).

The Vegetables Thrived (Until the Deer Got There First)

Ironically? Our vegetables had their best year yet. The lettuce was wild and tender. The herbs flourished. Tomatoes, peas...  all thriving.

The radishes went to seed while I was still waiting for the yard to dry up. The cabbage? It was so close to ready, until a deer decided they were hungry. And honestly, I can’t blame them.

Here’s the kicker though: I’ve never put much energy into our veggies. They were always the afterthought, tossed in once the flower beds were done and I had nothing left in the tank.

This year’s garden miracle? A full pumpkin patch. And not even a planned one.Last fall, I tossed our frost-bitten decorative pumpkins into the yard, assuming they’d compost quietly. Then this spring we tilled the area, and boom... they took.

I had to move a few, sure, but now we’ve got a full patch and they’re everywhere.To the untrained eye it might look like a hot mess. A naked Dollar Store archway jammed into a muddy pit, with vines sprawling every direction. But to me? It’s magic. A nearly-covered trellis you walk through into a proper pumpkin patch.

Total accident. Utter chaos. And somehow, completely us.

From Dream to Durable

Originally, I imagined charming gravel trails and stone-edged paths. This year? We might lay sod. Not because it’s elegant — but because I’d like to walk to the garden without losing a boot.

This yard hasn’t had a ton of TLC over the past few decades. When you’re both working full-time off the farm, you stick to the basics: mowing, tilling, hauling stuff away.

But during lockdown, something changed. Sitting on the porch, staring at our blank canvas of a yard, I decided: one day, I’d be working from home. Online. Building something beautiful. And a barren lawn just wasn’t very Clementine.

I’ve always had a vision. And after that first year of seeing these flowers thrive in this good Saskatchewan soil, I knew it was possible.

Fun fact: this very dirt was once sold by the bucket-load to local gardeners when my husband’s grandfather lived here. So good soil? Never the issue.

Now it’s about building the dream around it.

What’s Next

There’s still some beauty out there. Rows of herbs. Scattered blooms. A garden still trying.

Even though I’ve made it sound like a hot mess, it’s not. It’s just different. A little behind. A little smaller. But still beautiful. Because nature always is.

Next year will be more practical, less precious. More sod, fewer seed trays. But if it means I can walk to the garden without falling in it? I’ll take it.

So here’s to the weeds. To the deer. To the rot, the seeds that didn’t sprout, the surprise pumpkins, and every little thing that teaches us to grow better.

Here’s to a garden that isn’t just pretty — but possible.

xo Christa

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