Garden diary

From lawn to kitchen garden: our first year

By Sarah · October 2026

Last year, at our old house, I tried to grow tomatoes in a grow bag. The garden barely saw the sun, and nothing grew. Not a single tomato.

We moved into our new house at the end of last year, and this year I finally had room to have a proper go. I loved the idea of growing my own veg. So here's how our first year went: what grew, what didn't, and what the rabbits had for dinner.

I can tell you the date of almost every step, but only because I took photos. Without them, most of it would already be filed under "sometime in the spring".

An open lawn at sunset, with a clump of daffodils and old trees along the far hedge — Our new garden, 21 March: this lawn became the veg garden

February to April: a lawn and a plan

We started on the garden in February. At that point the patch that's now the veg garden was just lawn, an old hedge and a clump of daffodils.

On 17 April my partner drew the plan. Nothing fancy, just pencil on paper: beds here, greenhouse there, paths in between, and north, south, east and west written round the edges.

You might also spot a hot tub on it. That was me. I sneaked it onto his drawing when he wasn't looking. It's always been a dream of mine, and it's right at the bottom of the priority list, but the electrics for it are in now, so I'm calling that progress.

A hand-drawn pencil plan of the garden, showing beds, the greenhouse, paths and a compass — The plan, 17 April (hot tub added by me, without permission)

April and May: building it

On 16 April a small digger arrived, the ground was dug, and the base for the greenhouse went down. By 19 April all three raised beds were in, sitting proudly on soil that had been lawn a week earlier. Those beds were the bit I was most excited about.

The greenhouse went up on 25 and 26 April, and the gravel paths went down on 2 May. Suddenly it looked like a garden rather than a building site. By mid-May the first plants were in, and the waiting began.

A small yellow digger on the lawn, in front of a tall hedge — The digger arrives, 16 April

A rectangle of compacted gravel cut into the lawn, with a plate compactor beside it — The base for the greenhouse, 16 April

Three new wooden raised beds on freshly dug soil, with a hedge behind — The three raised beds, 19 April

A new green-framed greenhouse with staging inside, on bare ground — The greenhouse goes up, 26 April

A gravel path leading across the lawn to the finished greenhouse, with a wooden bench beside it — Gravel paths down, 2 May

Greenhouse staging covered in young plants in pots and trays — Filling the greenhouse, early May

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Summer: the tomato bed

Into one bed went six tomato plants, two pepper plants, four basil plants, four marigolds and a cosmos. In hindsight, that's a lot of guests for one bed. The tomatoes intertwined and went completely wild.

But the tomatoes! We had loads, for several weeks in late summer, and one or two were proper whoppers. Plenty went into a fresh tomato sauce for pasta, with basil from the same bed.

A raised bed crammed with tangled tomato plants and marigolds — A lot of guests for one bed, end of June

A vine of small red tomatoes beside one very large tomato and a red chilli on a kitchen worktop — One of the whoppers, end of July

A handful of fresh basil leaves on a wooden chopping board, with sliced tomato beside it — Basil from the tomato bed

A pan of homemade tomato sauce on the hob beside a pan of pasta — Fresh tomato sauce for pasta

Raised beds overflowing with tomato plants and sunflowers, the greenhouse behind — Full, 10 July

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The great chilli glut

I grew 28 chilli and pepper plants, which, it turns out, is a lot of chillies. Hundreds of them.

Some I froze whole. Some I roasted in the oven and ground into chilli flakes. The rest went into ice cube trays with oil and sliced garlic, ready to drop straight into a pan. The beetroot got blanched and frozen too.

Rows of young chilli and pepper plants in pots on greenhouse staging — Chilli and pepper plants, May

A chopping board piled with red and yellow chillies, with ice cube trays behind — The first chilli harvest

An ice cube tray filled with chopped chillies and slices of garlic in oil — Chillies, oil and sliced garlic, ready for the freezer

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What didn't work (and who ate what)

Not everything went to plan, and honestly, this is the most useful bit to share.

The strawberries. They had their own bed. Before we went on holiday we set up a shiny new irrigation system, and forgot to connect the strawberries to it. They didn't look great when we got back. Then voles moved in, and I think they finished off what was left. At one point there was even a molehill in the middle of it.

The rabbits. I planted my beans too close to the ground, and the rabbits ate them. Then they ate the carrots. Then, for pudding, the delphiniums in the back border.

The voles, again. They weren't content with the strawberries. They got into the tomato beds too. I've now ordered chicken wire to go in the bottom of the beds before next year.

The rest. My mint grown from seed gave up. The cucumbers gave us two small ones in May, which became a bowl of raita, and then gave up too. I sowed the rocket and lettuce so close together that they never really got going. The Brussels sprouts and purple sprouting broccoli were eaten alive by cabbage white butterflies (well, their caterpillars), so I put netting over them. They're still growing, and I'm hopeful.

A mound of fresh soil in the middle of a strawberry bed — The molehill in the strawberry bed

A young rabbit sitting on a driveway beside a garden border — One of the culprits

A bowl of raita made with chopped cucumber and yoghurt, sprinkled with spice — Our entire cucumber harvest, as raita

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Now: getting ready for winter

The parsnips are still growing, and garlic is next on my list. In the new bed around the apple tree we've planted spring bulbs, and the alliums are still waiting their turn.

I'm also doing everything I can to keep my asparagus alive over winter. Next year it moves into the tomato bed, which will be its forever home. Hopefully with fewer housemates.

A newly made circular bed of dark mulch around the trunk of an old apple tree — The new bed around the apple tree, 3 October

A feathery asparagus plant in a pot — Asparagus, being kept alive over winter

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What I'd tell myself in February

Plant fewer. Six tomato plants (plus friends) in one bed, and all those chilli plants, were both far too many. Half would have been plenty.
Give seeds room. Sow rocket and lettuce further apart than feels sensible.
Plan for rabbits. Anything near ground level is on the menu: beans, carrots, even flowers.
Put chicken wire in the bottom of raised beds. Before you fill them, not after the voles have found them.
Check every bed is on the watering before you go away. Especially the one you added last.
Don't just take photos. Write notes too. My photos told me when things happened. They didn't tell me what worked, what didn't, or what I'd do differently, and that's exactly what you need when next year comes round.

Why I wish I'd written it all down

That last one is the reason I'm making Remera, a garden journal app for the moments worth remembering. This year I had the photos but hardly any notes, so putting this post together meant scrolling back through my camera roll and trying to remember. Remera keeps what happened in your garden, when it happened and the photos that go with it, all in one place, so next spring you can look back at exactly where you were this time last year.

Next spring I'll be looking back at this one, probably wincing at the tomato bed. I'll be keeping a garden diary here every month from now on, starting with November.

Remera is coming in 2027.

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Sarah