Patio Misadventures: Surviving Summer One Plant at a Time

Welcome back to the patio misadventures—where we don't exactly get it right every time.

It is officially the dead of summer, and if you've been following along for a while, you probably know summer has never really been my favorite season. Between Florida's humidity and temperatures that somehow feel hotter than the surface of the sun, my little apartment patio has definitely been putting both me and the plants to the test.

I also owe everyone a citrus update because it's been a while. Between surviving the weather and surviving my Business Statistics class for my master's degree (which, for someone who doesn't particularly enjoy math, has been... an adventure), my tiny orchard has been quietly changing.

Let's start with the newest additions.

First came a Barbados cherry tree that immediately decided life was too difficult and attempted to die approximately five different times after I brought it home. After plenty of patience—and maybe a little stubbornness from both of us—it has finally stabilized and, unlike the rest of us Floridians, absolutely loves this heat.

Next was another Cuban oregano because apparently one wasn't enough. If plants had personalities, Cuban oregano would absolutely be the golden retriever of the gardening world. Hot? Happy. Cold? Happy. Forgot to water it for a day? Still happy. It has quickly become one of my favorite herbs simply because it refuses to be dramatic.

Then... yes... I bought another citrus tree.

Meet the Kishu mandarin.

That officially brings my apartment patio orchard to five citrus trees, which sounds slightly ridiculous now that I've typed it out. But in my defense, they're all different.

I also added a Little Miss Figgy dwarf fig tree. Originally, I tucked it away in the shade thinking I was protecting it from the brutal Florida sun. After doing some research, I quickly discovered it was sitting there wondering why I was ruining its life. Apparently fig trees love sunshine, so I moved it to the hottest, brightest corner of the patio—the area where only the toughest plants survive—and it immediately rewarded me with healthy new growth.

Sometimes gardening is just apologizing to your plants and hoping they'll forgive you.

The citrus collection has also been... interesting.

The key lime has finally started blooming again, which feels like a huge win.

The calamondin—my "mystery kumquat"—continues happily producing fruit like a tiny overachiever.

Meanwhile, both lemon trees have absolutely nothing to show for themselves. They're clearly unimpressed with this weather and seem to have decided they simply won't be participating until temperatures return to something below "lava."

Honestly... same.

Outside of the orchard, the patio continues to be its own little science experiment.

The everbearing strawberry plant officially retired for the season after generously producing exactly three strawberries, which I celebrated like I'd harvested an entire field.

The squash plants, unfortunately, didn't survive. I planted them a little too late, and the Florida summer quickly reminded me who's really in charge around here. Gardening is full of trial and error, and sometimes the lesson is simply, "Maybe don't challenge July."

The tomato plant, however, has become even more interesting. Somewhere along the way it acquired a spinach roommate, and the two are peacefully sharing the same pot. I wish I could tell you that was intentional, but sometimes gardening means accepting that your plants have plans of their own.

And then...

I may have accidentally purchased what I'm calling the final boss of plants.

A vanilla orchid.

Vanilla is typically grown in Zone 10, while I'm over here attempting to convince it that my third-floor apartment patio in Zone 9 is close enough.

It only flowers for a few hours, the blooms have to be hand-pollinated because the specific bees that naturally pollinate vanilla don't live here, and if everything goes according to plan—which, let's be honest, is never guaranteed—it should only take about three to five years before I have my own vanilla beans.

Who doesn't love a challenge?

One of the biggest lessons I've learned this season is that the right soil really does make all the difference.

I've spent months experimenting with different blends, trying to understand what each plant actually wants instead of assuming one potting mix works for everything. Citrus taught me that lesson the hard way. Through plenty of trial and error, I landed on a blend of compost, worm castings, perlite, orchid bark, bone meal, and kelp meal—a mix I'm affectionately calling the Tiny Orchard Blend.

Every new leaf, every flower, and every tiny piece of fruit reminds me that healthy soil really is where healthy plants begin.

Of course, none of this would be complete without my gardening assistant, Stevie.

Every single morning she insists on doing her rounds, carefully inspecting every pot as if she's making sure nothing suspicious happened overnight. And the second the patio door opens? You better get out of the way. This tiny dog barrels outside with absolutely no regard for human ankles, furniture, or basic traffic laws. If you're standing between Stevie and her garden inspection, you're simply an obstacle to be overcome.

She takes her job very seriously.

More than anything, though, this little patio has become my refuge.

Some seasons of life feel incredibly heavy. Between work, grad school, grief, and trying to keep up with everyday life, it's easy to feel overwhelmed. But every evening I step outside, water the plants, look for new blooms, celebrate the tiniest victories, and spend a few quiet minutes in my tiny orchard.

The plants don't solve everything.

But they do remind me that growth is usually slow, setbacks are normal, and sometimes the things worth waiting for take years.

Hopefully... including vanilla.

Until next time,

Your not-so-green-thumb patio grower 🌱

P.S. If enough people are interested, maybe we'll have to add the Tiny Orchard Blend to the shop. Growing citrus isn't always easy, but you don't have to figure it out alone.