Why I Write Gardening Workbooks
- Melanie Holsti
- May 2
- 6 min read
Updated: 3 days ago

I have a ton of pictures of flowers on my hard drive. Some are from my back yard on the family ranch in South Dakota, pre-2013. Some are from our yard on the farm we owned in the Ozarks, circa 2014-2020. Some are from the tea room in Missouri, circa 2017-2020. And some of them are from our current property in Tennessee, circa 2022-present. While there are a few flowers that I know the name of, most of them will forever be nameless in my digital photo files because...I didn’t write them down.
Since my memory is notoriously bad, and I didn’t write down the cultivar names, or the big box store or local mom & pop nursery where I acquired them, I can’t share that information with other gardeners who admire my photos or flower beds. And, I can’t track down the mystery iris from Missouri to plant in my Tennessee flower beds. There are hundreds if not thousands of named iris, plus lots of different heirloom ones that grow in the yards of old houses and farmsteads, and online photos are only of limited assistance because they are often Photoshopped to look completely different from reality.
I have several beautiful clematis vines that are blooming their little hearts out at the moment. But I can't tell you their names because I didn't write them down. I've got some lovely purple and white iris blooming too, but not only can't I tell you their name, I also can't tell you where I got them because, I didn't write it down. Same with the almost-but-not-quite pink iris. And the apple trees that lost their tags. And the blueberries that lost their tags too. I can guess between 4 different options what strawberries are growing in each strawberry patch, but I'm not 100 percent certain which is which because you guessed it, I didn't write it down.
I have 6 out of 8 David Austin roses that I purchased in 2020 which have survived being transplanted 3 times, but they’ve lost their tags, I can't find the old invoice, and I didn't write them down, so I don't know which ones they are. Except the deep red one. That one I can identify because its name was memorable. And for the record, the color is just as eye-popping as the photo would suggest. For the rest, I'd have to take an educated guess if I wanted to purchase more, or if I wanted to help a friend find the same one to grow.
Now, to be fair, in some cases, I do at least make sure that the tag that comes with potted trees and flowers stays with them when they get planted.
But time passes and:
eventually, the sun fades them
the plastic becomes brittle and breaks
the wind removes the tags from trees
we move away and the plants with their tags don’t move with us
not all plants, especially bare-root plants, come with tags
On top of all of that, I don’t always remember how often the hydrangeas need fertilizer, or which ones bloom on new growth and which bloom on old growth. I never remember to start taking action to control the annual infestation of Japanese beetles until they’re demolishing everything but the hydrangeas in my yard. I don’t remember that the Scentimental and Mr. Lincoln roses need me to be extra vigilant about fungal disease until they’re on death’s doorstep.
If I don’t write things down, I don’t remember them. I think that’s part of the reason why I did so well in school. It was just a given that while the teacher lectured, you took notes. Usually, the act of writing notes was enough to deposit the information into my memory banks, but if not, I had the notes to look at later.
And this is where my garden workbooks come in.
If I make a plan and write it down, I’ll remember the plan. While it isn’t guaranteed that I’ll follow through with the written plan (real life happens to us all), there’s virtually no chance of me following through with a plan that I forget 5 minutes after I formulated it.
If I write down the name and source of the columbine I planted this morning, there’s a pretty good chance I’ll remember both when someone asks me about it. But if I can’t remember one or both, all I have to do is get out my garden files and look it up. And if I can’t remember whether they like full sun or part shade, that’s in the files too.
Years from now, if my children want to know what was that cherry tomato that changed their minds about hating tomatoes, and I’m not around to answer that question, well, that’s in the files too.
If I realize that my peach trees have not produced fruit for 3 years running, I can look back on my orchard or weather notes to determine whether the problem is late frost (indicating that I need to find a later blooming peach to grow) or that the cross-pollinator for those trees died and needs to be replaced.
If a friend wants to start their own herb garden with some starts from mine, I can share cuttings along with some hand-written notes copied from my files about my experience with growing those herbs. That kind of thing is priceless in a world where everything is becoming virtual.
Next year when I start planning flower beds and starting seeds, I’ll have this year’s gardening journal and seed inventories to keep me from buying what I don’t need, starting too many tomatoes or waiting too long to start the broccoli and lettuce seedlings.
Now, I could in theory use an app to keep track of my garden, but there are several reasons that I don’t and probably never will.
I lose things.
I drop things--like tools, my glasses, and definitely expensive electronic devices.
I don't believe that you own anything that you can't put your hands on.
I loathe the subscription model for music, movies, books and software. Actually, I don't think loathe is a strong enough word for my feelings on that.
A book works even when the power is out, the internet is down, or I’m too far from the Wi-fi signal to connect to the internet (or property is virtually a cellular dead zone)
I think it’s a beautiful thing when families have knowledge, stories, journals, diaries and recipes passed down in their ancestor’s own handwriting. I treasure my great-grandmother’s pineapple cheesecake recipe.
There is no way my smart phone is accompanying me to work in the garden. Refer back to points 1 and 2. I might take it on a walk if my goal is strictly to take photos of what's blooming, fruiting or freshly planted in the garden, but that's it.
Even if I was willing to take my smart phone out while I dig, weed and water in the garden, I did not spend two trimesters of high school learning to type so that I could revert to one-fingered typing on a tiny screen.
All of this means that even though I have terrible handwriting, and there are undoubtedly plenty of outstanding gardening apps available, I will be writing down the things I want to remember.
Since I knew what tools I needed to make me a better gardener, and I have the ability to create those tools, that’s exactly what I did. I figure I’m not the only gardener out there with a poor memory and the attention span of a toddler at a carnival. If that describes you, welcome to the club. These gardening workbooks can help you to be a better gardener too.

The “Garden Files” workbooks are meant to be used for several years, maybe even a lifetime. They are a place to record the knowledge you've gained as a gardener, whether that is growing herbs, houseplants, fruit trees, prize-winning tomatoes or heirloom roses.

The garden planners are meant to be replaced every year, and are designed primarily for growing food. The garden journals should last between 2 and 4 years for most gardeners and are meant for growing food, flowers and herbs. The planner and journal are available in both an illustrated color format to coordinate with the “Files” and a black and white format for those who need a more budget-friendly option. Black & white book printing costs quite a bit less than color.
I welcome feedback on all of my gardening workbooks. If you find there are pages you don’t use, I want to know. If there are pages that lack an important element, or that there aren’t enough of, I want to know. If there’s something that you want to record that there isn’t a page for, I want to know.
It is my intent that the planners and journals will be updated and given a new cover annually so that they are as useful as possible, and so that you can tell one year’s workbook from another.
Since I am no more fond of planned obsolescence than I am of subscriptions, all of my planners and journals are undated. That means that if you find one buried in the back of your bookshelf ten years from now, you can dust it off and put it to immediate use.
I hope you will find great value in the gardening workbooks I've created. If you'd like to join my email list to be notified when a new workbook or journal is available, please sign up here:

As a bonus, you'll be able to download 6 free seed inventory worksheets (because I discovered that the first edition of the garden planners didn't have enough of those pages for many users).
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