Garden Notes: Dwarves, Dirt, and the Toad Who Hugged Me

Short seasons. Big heads. Strange blessings.

Greenhouse with squash plants.

Gardening in Wells isn’t about perfection; it’s about adaptation.

We’re just under 4,000 feet in elevation, with a growing season so short you barely have time to blink between frost warnings. But still, things grow here. Some years are more than others. Some years… oddly well.

This year, I planted more dwarf seed varieties, and I think that’s what made the difference.

Why? Because dwarves don’t just mean “smaller”, they mean faster. They’re bred to skip the drawn-out growth phase and get straight to the point, which is exactly what a mountain town garden needs.

What’s Thriving This Season:

Cabbage (always a reliable winner here) is healthy and thriving.

Broccoli from seed was a surprising success; I’ll be doubling next year.

Carrots are here, but tiny. Next year, a cold frame and a bit more heat should do the trick.

Potatoes are doing fine, nothing groundbreaking, but they’re in. We’ve had a lot of rain, so they’re surviving the soggier stretch.

Kale, Swiss chard, and nasturtiums? Crushing it. Tough, beautiful, unstoppable.

Hollyhocks from seed made it this year, which felt like a small magic.

My apple tree’s thriving, and the cherry trees gave fruit. It’s sour, sure—but it’s fruit. In Wells. That alone feels like an achievement.

Fruit trees in Wells?!?

Wells sits at nearly 4,000 feet of elevation, which makes growing fruit here feel like a quiet kind of rebellion. The seasons are short, the nights still cold well into spring, and the frost always closer than you’d like. So when cherry trees start producing, even if the fruit is tart, it’s a win. No apples yet, though the tree is healthy and hopeful, but the cherries are here, and they’re happy, which feels like a small miracle in a mountain town like this.

Apple tree year 3.

The Toad Situation (Still Unfolding)

Mr. Toad

I keep finding toads.

One was stuck in a tight spot I never normally check, but something pulled me there. It let me pick it up, and it hugged me.

So, yes. I kissed it.

No royalty appeared. Just a weird, soft blessing I didn’t know I was looking for.

I’ve since placed a few into the pond garden I built. They’ve stayed. They’ve nested. It’s nice to have the creatures of nature enjoy the garden.

And while people often notice the space, I don’t really think of it as mine. The garden is its own being. I might be the one throwing seeds around and obsessively checking leaves, but really, I’m just mishmashing hope and stubbornness, and nature’s the one making it all sing.

It’s not perfect.

But it’s alive, and it keeps letting me be part of it.

Spring flew by in a blur this year, fast, wet, and gone before I felt ready. But the tulips showed up hard. For a few wild weeks, the yard was full of colour, reds, oranges, purples bursting through cold ground like they had something to prove. They lasted, and they were so beautiful while they were here. A special thing about Wells is that it’s kinda like a fridge. Cool nights and temperatures keep blooms fresh, and last longer- I had tulips blooming at the beginning of JULY!!!

I’ll be planting more. I get all my bulbs from Costco- They are affordable and I have had success with their bulbs.

So, gardening is saving me for another season, the best thing for my heart and soul.

Thanks for reading! Happy gardening! Just put the plant in the ground!!!

Caroline