The year the robins never left.

The year the robins never left, I planted my pea seeds on February 27th 2026, the EARLIEST I have EVER put them in the ground, by a MONTH. Insane. But the signs were there: warming days, soil that could be worked an inch down — stick your finger into the dirt, does it go past your first digit? If so, you’re good to go — at least that has been an indicator for me. For the past 20 years.

Another indication: the maiden on the mountain — in another land: the witch on the mountain. Certain patterns formed by melting snow during springtime, up high on the mountains. Inklings that I should plant the peas. Nudges and seasonal remembrance. And lastly, a woman I’d been chatting with about an upcoming herbal class mentioned her peas were sprouting in her garden — as she’d let the vines stay on the trellis and those pea seeds formed…and germinated! Pretty good indicator I’d say! However, that was in January. So I waited. And waited. Until I just had to get them into the ground based on the swiftness of the spring. If I didn’t, I’d miss the opportunity to get strong, healthy plants for good fruiting. Yes, I did cover them many times over the last few months. But it was worth it.

I kept telling them, they’ll be super peas if they make it through such an early planting + record high temps + stupid frosts after everything thought it was late spring and was in full bloom (ALL the fruit trees…this happened several times). As of 6/17/26, my peas are going full force! I’ve been picking daily and keeping some of the best and biggest pods on the vine in order to develop into seed stock. So stoked they made it.

The year the robins never left, I learned to cover my strawberries when they were blooming if a frost was coming. Cover with frost protection fabric aka Reemay, or use sheets, maybe tossing a few gallon pots underneath to help lift it off the plants so as to not be so heavy. I observed that in a year past, those ‘late’ season frosts affected my strawberry harvest, to its detriment. So, now I cover.

We are eating strawberries daily. It’s really nice to be able to do that, fresh strawberries right out of the garden. I caught a robin in there last week, furtively looking at me over her wing. I chased her off, gently chastening her aloud when I spied the pecked on fruit.

Not all is good in the hood. Root maggots got the turnip row and the second set of radishes. Uggggh. Those buggers. I thought I’d out-southed them. Nope.

The year the robins never left, I watched my sweet lil’ fireweed patch freeze to blackened stumps. I thought they were goners. Being a tough native plant, I figured they would revitalize, but not to the degree with which they did! Albeit a little shorter than ‘normal’. They are coming onto full bloom here right now. Just love them.

While the iris seemed almost indifferent to the frost as it was occurring, there were a few that hit them pretty hard. Only a few flower stalks bloomed this spring. Literally. Chatting with another local gardener, she said she didn’t have any. So, guess I got lucky.

The year the robins never left, the oriental poppies that I’d grown spectacularly well up in Alaska, but couldn’t get a good solid bloom on a happy plant for the past 4 garden seasons to save my soul…well, this year…they are glorious. Seed saved from 2018/2019, that I’ve planted in various spots in the garden for years now, finally found their center stage in the new kitchen bed garden. Where over a 100 bulbs + gifted iris’ + dill + several sedums and random surprises converge. It’s been a joyous thing for me to see those silvery stalks rise high, purple petals unfurled. They have arrived.

Yes.

Proud gardener moment. An old friend, returned & resurrected.

Jewell Gardens poppies, here we go!

The year the robins never left, they never did. Usually, come the coldest parts of winter, they fly off. Not this year. It was unnerving to see Nature shift so swiftly to an extreme. And then, once the perennials were up, tulips were blooming, the apricot blossoms hopeful…it froze. Hard. And then a warm up. Hard frost, bang-o. Pendulous swings back and forth until you felt at the whims of the plants, a puppet on a string. Can we be done, please?!

I think we’re getting there. Got the tomatoes in this past week. Poor things have been shuffled so much. That always feels like a pinnacle moment in planting season for me, after that — coming down the roller coaster that is this time of year for the gardener. There’s a brief reprieve until the next set of weeds surface. Maybe that’s why I can write here again :)

All in all, I’m super impressed by how the herbaceous plants did. A testament to the plants tenacity, a diligent use of frost protection fabric; in addition to knowing when to put out what plants and how slowly/quickly to plant them, after acclimatization to the outdoors.

And those peas…gosh, what a cool thing to reflect on all the different seasons they experienced. Remembering picking them at the community garden; always the first to pop up green and growing, sunshine beaming between the clouds. To holding on to dear life in wet coastal gusts, clinging to the driftwood trellis, to now adapting to high heat extremes in Idaho. Pretty magical.

What are your biggest garden win(s) this spring?!

Blooms & Blessings,

Emily