Last year, we created two flower beds across the front of our little house (a brick ranch). On one side, the bed is narrow and straight. On the other, we made a sweeping rounded bed, curving around the end of the porch. We put zinnias in the straight bed, and they were a riot of color – until a summer storm knocked them flat. While they rebounded a bit, they were never quite the same. The hummingbirds, butterflies, and bees loved them.

The curvy bed showcased annuals on the end, a couple purple mallow plants, and the bulk of the bed was turned over to cosmos. I’ve always loved cosmos, and grow them frequently, so I was caught unaware when these, having grown quite tall, were also flattened by a summer storm … and kept growing. Our cosmos were terra-forming, y’all. Where they hit the ground, they sank new roots {not unlike a tomato will}, and continued to grow both outward into the yard and upward via new starts/branches. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen, and I laughed often about out world domination-driven cosmos, but they were also absolutely gorgeous. The blooms continued well into September.

Even as we readied the flowerbeds for winter (clearing out the dead stalks and sowing clover, so the soil would be covered and remain-slash-regain nutritional balance), we were making plans and deciding what to do different this year. Overall, my quest for an abundance of flowers was successful, although the wind definitely proved to be a challenge. To combat this, our number one priority in planning for this year was to stake the beds and have a couple levels of twine to catch the stalks as they grow.

We also discovered watering got increasingly more difficult as the summer went on: the flowers were dense. This year, we’re experimenting with soaker hoses, thinking that will give a better disbursement of water throughout the bed.

Once it was flower seed-planting time, we knocked the clover back and let it fall and remain in the bed as mulch. The soil was nice and loose, perfect for accepting seeds (and bachelor button starts). Stakes were placed throughout the bed, and multiple levels of twine tied on, to make a supportive framework for the flowers as they grow.

This year, instead of having designated flowers in either bed, I decided to go for “wildflower fever.” In part because I couldn’t narrow my choice down to 2 flower varieties, and in part because I’m very much in love with the rampant wildflower-cottage garden aesthetic. Plus, the bees.

The mallows have grown into a gorgeous mass of dark green rippling leaves at the end of the porch, and are just about to bust into bloom. In the last of the empty space, where I had pentas last summer, we planted gladiola bulbs gifted by the neighbors. {They ordered 2000 gladiolas! I cannot wait to walk by the flower fields later this summer, it’s sure to be a riot of happy colors}.

Already, tiny sprouts are appearing from the scattered seeds and gladiolas are starting to push through the soil and pinestraw. The season of color is coming, and I cannot wait to have bright blooms greeting me daily.