The first frost is coming, and the greenhouse rescue mission is in full swing. My baby tomatoes were carefully potted and moved inside, along with the Boston ferns, and my prized Mexican lime —while the rest of the garden looks on, blissfully unaware of the cold to come. Some plants survive, some don’t, and I’m left with a mix of triumph, guilt, and a few tiny green tomatoes. Gardening is emotional, exhausting, and completely addictive—read on to see how this year’s frost rescue unfolded.

I’ve always known I’m a bit obsessive when it comes to my projects, but it recently dawned on me just how much. The garden may sleep for the winter, but my need to create certainly doesn’t.

When my Daddy passed away, life as we knew it shifted. Momma built a precious cottage on our land, and together we found healing in the garden. What began as a few raised beds grew into a place of resilience, laughter, and purpose…