Into the Wild – Musings on our Yard’s Transformation | June 2025

June blurred past in muddy boots, unfinished tasks, and the kind of rain that settles into your bones. Maybe it was the weather, maybe the pace of summer accelerating – but I barely had time to notice the month before it was gone. And still, beneath all that noise, something steady pushed through: our little patch of land, wild and messy and waking up – not perfectly, but honestly. Rewilding our yard is becoming less of a project and more of a way of being here.

This is the slow, steady rhythm of nurturing a wild space: a dance of patience, persistence, and wonder – unfolding in slow, intentional steps woven into the cycle of each season.

June 1st vs June 30th – 2025
Slide to see how the yard transformed this month

POND

My aquatic plant order arrived faster than I had expected – literally the next morning! I spent the better part of a few days planning where each new addition should go, then tucked them into the pond margins.

Just before planting, we had about three inches of rain, and the water level rose dramatically. It made me realize that I wanted to keep the pond at that higher base level going forward. I am actually glad we had such a downpour – it helped confirm the edges are high enough to prevent spillage.

I have finished hiding the liner and shaping the edges, and the space is really starting to feel complete. The only things left on my to-do list are adding a few more rocks (to accommodate the increased depth), placing some birch snags for structure and perches (just waiting on my Dad to bring them on his next trip into the city), and building a planter for a few birch trees, since I can’t plant them directly in the ground where I want them. After that, I might finally be able to say the pond is done… for now at least (though I do want to put in more plants around the outside of the pond).

The pond was absolutely exploding with mosquito larvae this month – a sign of a healthy ecosystem, but definitely not something we wanted to let get out of hand. Most were cleared up quickly after we added a mosquito dunk, which targets mosquito larvae without harming other wildlife. I’m still figuring out how to to honour the delicate balance between nurturing wildlife without letting the mosquitos get the upperhand.

Even as the pond nears completion, I know that it will continue to evolve and draw me back – a small, ever-changing wild corner that feels deeply connected to this little patch of land.

Local tip: For those in Edmonton, we found mosquito dunks at Bontaniful and Apache Seeds.

GARDEN

The veggie garden has had its ups and downs this month. A few peas didn’t germinate, and we lost some cucumbers and tomatoes to transplant shock. I replanted what I could and committed to giving these plants the care that they need to thrive.

I’m learning – slowly but surely. Some plants didn’t make it, others failed to take root – and that’s part of the journey. Frustration still creeps in sometimes, but I’m leaning into the lessons, knowing this slow climb is the real growth. Gardening, and rewilding our yard isn’t a race, though some days, I wish that I could fast-forward to “done”. It’s in these slow, imperfect moments that the real work happens – layer by layer, season by season. This too is part of that slow, steady rhythm of nurturing a wild space.

Once it warmed up, I got the corn and beans into the ground, and added more carrot seeds after running out. Our seed potatoes molded before we could plant them – and with no replacements to be found at any greenhouses, there won’t be any potatoes this year.

On the bright side, the herbs are happily settled into their planters, and we picked our first few strawberries from the garden.

PLANTS

Our Forget-Me-Nots got slammed by powdery mildew. It felt like a punch – watching those delicate plants struggle was frustrating and discouraging. I removed the affected ones, but after a few weeks, most of the others had succumbed. Thankfully, the surrounding plants remained untouched, and I am hoping the mildew won’t return. 

We finally planted a few of the trees that had been waiting in pots: two white birch and a dwarf birch near the pond, and an apple tree in the veggie garden. I also planted some of the winter sown native seedlings – Yarrow, Goldenrod, Mouse-eared Chickweed, Alpine Forget-Me-Not. I still have a lot to plant, but slowly and surely, our yard is beginning to take shape as a native habitat.

Last month, I thought my Red Columbine was making a comeback – but it appears to have vanished. I probably pulled it by mistake, thinking it was a weed – not the first time, unfortunately. I did the same with some Field Chickweed earlier in the season, but that bounced back – so fingers crossed.

The Peonies bloomed early this year. During a heavy rain, I rushed out to cut one that had bloomed and found several buds at the marshmallow stage. I dried them off and tucked them into the fridge to save for later. A few days later, more blooms had opened, but they were absolutely swarming with tiny bugs. So they stayed outside, where they found new life as patio table décor.

I transplanted some ferns by the pond. Most didn’t take well, but I did the same last year in the front garden, and they returned this spring. I will leave them be and hope they settle in next year.

Other highlights: 

• The existing Irises in the front yard bloomed beautifully.
• Harebells and Fireweed brought pops of colour to the rockery.

ODDS & ENDS

One of the big accomplishments this month was finally finishing our massive 18-foot long planter. I stained it black, and once dried, we somehow managed to haul it out of the garage and into place – much easier than expected. After adding a few support braces, we ordered soil – which arrived quickly.

Unfortunately, the soil was dry and lifeless – so hydrophobic it refused to drink. We spent days coaxing moisture back into it, a slow battle that reminded me how much this process tests patience.

While waiting, we used the remaining soil saved in containers from clearing out the garden beds and pond. When I lifted one of the containers, a wasp flew out and landed on my husband’s arm trying to sting him. A few more emerged, and we realized that we might be storing a wasp nest. He carefully returned the container back to our driveway to deal with later, once the weather cools and the wasps aren’t as aggressive. We also put up another fake nest to try and deter them.

Here’s what kept me busy and grounded this month – the small, everyday moments that stitch our yard’s story:

• Tackled more weeding than I care to admit.
• Seeded most of the backyard with a grass and clover mix.
• Picked up a few seedling trays through our local Buy Nothing group.
• A massive mushroom grew in the yard – about the size of a dinner plate.
• The front flower beds remain stubborn and mostly bare. My wildflower plans failed to take root, and honestly? I’m feeling a mix of frustration and uncertainty about what’s next. It’s a space still waiting for its story.
• Trimmed the maple by clearing some of the lower growth.
• Pruned dead wood from the Ninebark – though in hindsight, that may not have been the best idea. The remaining branches are now sagging more than expected, and we had to tie them up with twine.

June felt like a lesson in momentum – in showing up, adjusting, and trusting the process. Even with the rain and setbacks, progress took root. Some things flourished, others faltered, and much of it is still unfolding. I don’t know if this work will ever feel “done,” but maybe that’s the beauty of it. Our little patch of land keeps growing into itself – wild, imperfect, and full of promise. One season, one step, one root at a time.

🌿 Want to follow the transformation from the beginning of the year? Start here with April’s recap and continue with May’s update to see what’s changed.

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If this post sparked an idea or made you pause to notice the beauty in your own space, I would be so grateful if you shared it with a friend, on your social media, or saved it for later. Every share helps this little patch of land inspire more backyard birders, native plant gardeners, and nature-lovers.

Thanks for reading! Until next time,
Tracey

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