For us here in Ohio, in the middle of the continent, the weather does what it does and all of us gardeners are just along for the ride. Powerless to stop it. So, it was notable that 2024 came in like a lamb. A beautiful lamb. Not like the kind you usually see with matted wool and bits of filth clinging to it. Nope, it came in like the kind of lamb you see at 4H contests, perfectly shampooed, groomed and smelling better than you would expect. Glided right in slow and steady with nary a meteorological consequence to speak of. Therefore, we “enjoyed” the kind of peak plant perfection usually reserved for those lucky billions who occupy maritime climates.


April. A sweet, sweet Spring and everything looks fresh and perfect. Paeonia obovata (top). Acer shirasawanum ‘Autumn Moon’ with Hosta “Halcyon’ (below).
I say “enjoyed” in quotes because we really can’t enjoy good weather in the Ohio Valley. For we know all too well that no matter how good things might appear and no matter how long they seem to be lasting, that something bad is about to happen. And, of course, it did. By late May, there were already signs of trouble. Temperatures were significantly warmer than usual.


And May was pretty darned nice too.
Then, in June, we had more heat and, essentially, zero rain.



June meant drought but my ‘Tsukushigata’ Japanese Maple looked amazing (top). Really coming to love that dark horse. And it was Hydrangea time. Hydrangea quercifolia ‘Ruby Slippers’ performed without irrigation and Hydrangea arborescens ‘Annabelle’ did with irrigation (middle).
Precipitation rebounded in July. For most. Not me. A friend of mine, not three miles away as the crow flies, received three 1-inch rainfalls I did not get.

July was rough, but the full-sun perennials out front performed pretty well even with little irrigation.

And around back, ‘Ruby Slippers’ continued holding strong too.
August was again hot and without rain except for a 1-incher in the middle of the month. And an utter lack of our usual humidity did not help a bit. I dragged hoses all month while watching one favorite plant after another cry out for last rites.

By August, their was no holding back the drought.
September featured no rain as well, except for a 3-inch gulley washer at the end of the month thanks to remnants of Hurricane Helene. Away from home on vacation, I could only worry from afar about drought, washouts and whatever damage the wind had done, knowing that even a 3-inch rain was too little too late. Or, equally, too much too fast.


Even the hellebores tried (but failed) to give up.
October, trace amounts. Sunny days, cool nights. Bright blue skies. I had marveled all summer at how so many trees, whether in forests and even in many yards, watered or not, continued to look green. No frosts to speak of. In the gentle October weather, their Fall color simmered.
The usual November rains came in warm and wet. By November 28th, we still had not experienced a hard frost. My poolside containers sported Cuphea and SunPatiens still in bloom easily a month past their usual expiration date. And that Fall color? It finally came and just wouldn’t quit. Especially on the Japanese maples and ginkgo, which looked great into December.

Fothergilla ‘Mt. Airy.’

November 19th. In the foreground, Acer palmatum ‘Koto No Ito.’ An off year but still fine. In the background Ginkgo biloba just getting started.
Midsummer, entombed in drought, I had forgotten how incredible Spring had been, and, unable to foresee how wonderful Fall would be, gardening started to feel pointless. Too much work. Not enough reward. But, luckily, Fall did in fact show up. And, in finding the time to go through and name photos from earlier in the year, I was reminded again of how perfect Spring had been.
So, perspective. Seasons come and go. Some are better than others. Some years are better than others. But the long-term rewards of gardening far exceed short term troubles. So, in summation, stress less and garden more. And, over the long run, a wonderful convergence starts to happen—years of your hard gained gardening wisdom combine with the ever-increasing maturity of your garden. And that’s when the stars align. That’s when you begin to see why you persevered past all those frosts and droughts. And even as you head into Winter, you’re already dreaming of another season.

December 3rd and the ginkgo finally dropped its leaves. A stunning Spring, a dry Summer, a fabulous Fall. A fair enough year, all things considered.
Scott, you seem somewhat envious of us in maritime climates, but for most of us on the West Coast, summer time means exactly the conditions you describe – no rain for months on end. So, next time you’re dragging a hose, just know you’re getting a little California vacation!
Maybe with the decreased humidity and rain, you can dip your toe into some of our favorite plants? Or, as I’m doing, get better at installing drip irrigation.
True regarding the maritime climate, but, at least, your weather is more reliable. I think. And I can’t wait for my next California vacation! A real one. In California.
I hope you do! I’d love to see your take on Filoli next time you’re in the Bay Area.
As we say here in Maine, if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute…so we waited and waited all late summer and fall till it finally rained late Oct. and into Nov. Phew!
On another note, I hope you didn’t move all those gorgeous gingko leaves off the chairs and driveway. They look perfect there. I suppose, once they browned and shriveled you’d have to, but for a few days, they must have been glorious. So glad you shared pictures.
Yeah, it was dry in the East as well. Shocking to see forest fires in NY! I suppose Maine had some too, but much less press than NY.
On the day before my hip replacement, I mowed and blowed the leaves in the paths but left them in the beds and anywhere else they were out of the way and beautiful. They’re still a beautiful gold now but they will fade. By late Winter or Spring they’ll be ugly enough to feel good about removing. And I’ll be strong enough to do it.
“Gentlemen, we can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic. Scott Beuerlein will be that man. Better than he was before. Better. Stronger. Faster.”
~Hope your recovery goes quickly!
and just as dumb as ever!
Scott, your description of the year exactly matched my experiences in 2024. I then realized it was my Cincinnati friend, Scott Beuerlein writing! Here’s to a great 2025!
Melba Bjornson
Northern KY Master Gardeners Association
Yep. Just here across the river!
Beautiful garden! What are the curvy trees along your moss path in the may photo?
Thank you! Foreground is Acer palmatum ‘Shindishogo.’ Behind it a Japanese maple-like species called Acer robustum. As you might suspect from the specific epithet, a vigorous and possibly larger species.
Scott,
You’re spot on once again! Love your take always.
Here’s hoping for a nice blanket of snow this winter and more moisture throughout the summer next year. Thanks for all, happy holidays.
Thanks
Wise words and well said. Thanks, Scott! Hope you are mending fast.
Thank you and doing well!
What a heartfelt reflection on the ups and downs of gardening! I loved how you captured the resilience and beauty of each season, even in tough times. Your words remind us why we keep planting and dreaming.
Thank you!
A beautiful garden! Your lifes work is admirable.
I am always saddened by the way a brutal summer produces the most stunning autumn color.
We pamper our dogwoods and the perennials under them.
Our neighbor’s ignored dogwood always has the most stunning fall color. Our’s is typically very tepid.
Thank you!