Mother Gardener

Mother Gardener Connecting people back to nature through intuition and gardening.

05/16/2026

p to sixty percent of residential water use on the Front Range goes to lawn irrigation every summer. And most of that lawn is Kentucky bluegrass — a non-native grass that needs twice the water of native plants just to stay alive in our semi-arid climate.

It doesn’t build soil. It doesn’t feed pollinators. It doesn’t give much back to the land it sits on. It simply drinks — week after week, through a drought year that’s already putting pressure on reservoirs across our region.

That same square footage could be growing food for your family. It could be a native pollinator garden supporting the 900 species of native bees that call Colorado home. It could be building organic matter in soil that has been compacted and depleted for decades. It could be a place that gives back as much as it receives.

This is the conversation I have in every garden consultation I do on the Front Range. Not what do we tear out — but what do we want this land to become. How do we make it work with this climate, this soil, this place.

If that question is alive for you right now, the link in my bio is where we start.

05/05/2026

Late spring on the Front Range has its own kind of drama. One week we’re in shirtsleeves, the next we’re watching snow collect on branches that were budding out just days ago. This is the season we live in — and once you stop fighting it, it becomes one of the things you love most about gardening here.

Tonight is one of those nights. Cold, wet, heavy. And if you’re watching your trees and wondering what you’re about to lose — the answer, for most of your garden, is very little.

The place to pay attention is fruit trees in full bloom. The further along the blossom, the more vulnerable it is to a hard frost. A bud just swelling can handle the cold. A tree covered in open flowers is another story. If that’s what you have, it’s worth covering tonight if you can.

For everything else — your established perennials, your native plants, your trees and shrubs that have been in the ground — this is the climate they were made for. They have done this before. Let them.

One practical thing before it gets dark: walk your trees and gently shake any branches that look heavy with wet snow. That weight stresses new growth in ways that linger. A gentle shake is enough.

And if you have bleeding heart, hostas, or anything you just brought home from the nursery this week — cover those tonight. Newly purchased plants haven’t hardened off yet and are more vulnerable than anything already established in your garden.

Then come inside. Let the season do what it does.

05/02/2026

Something new is coming to this space. I’ve been out on the land this morning filming, and I’m ready to start sharing more of what actually happens here — the growing, the tending, the seasons, the philosophy behind all of it.

Topics I’ll be covering include growing food on the Front Range, herbal medicine and plant allies, native plantings, drought tolerant gardening, soil building, seed block starting, and what it means to co-create with nature rather than just manage it.

I’d love to know what you’re most curious about. What are you wrestling with in your garden right now?

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3302 Corte Almaden
Denver, CO
80524

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+13039173440

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