From "Artistically Challenged" to Backyard Oasis: My Weekend Garden Overhaul

I am sitting on my back porch with a fresh cup of coffee, a slightly sunburned nose, and a pair of gardening gloves that have seen far better days. If you caught my full dispatch from the 2026 PGA Championship, you know that while Aaron Rai was busy conquering the monster greens of Aronimink, I took a little sanity break at Longwood Gardens for their Festival of Fountains.

Big mistake. Huge.

Walking through those pristine, peak-bloom Pennsylvania displays gave me a massive case of garden envy. I used to think my flowerbeds at home looked beautifully "rugged." But standing next to a perfectly manicured topiary, I had a sudden moment of clarity: my backyard wasn't rugged. It was just artistically challenged.

So, naturally, I came home with a packet of seeds, a trunk full of mulch, and a level of ambition that far outpaced my actual horticultural skill. Here is the diary of my chaotic weekend attempt to bring a bit of that Longwood magic to our backyard.

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Phase 1: The Vision (and the Facebook Rabbit Hole)

Every great project starts with research, which for me means pouring a second cup of coffee and falling down a Facebook rabbit hole. I spent Friday night looking at pictures of English cottage gardens, reading up on soil pH levels, and occasionally getting distracted by the latest British royal family gossip. (Seriously, did you see what they wore to that garden party?)

By midnight, I had a master plan. I was going to transform our backyard into a lush, vibrant oasis. I envisioned lavender, hostas, hydrangeas, climbing roses, and perhaps a small, elegant water feature. I was channeling my inner foreign service diplomat—strategic, organized, and ready to conquer the terrain.

Phase 2: Enter the "Heavy Lifting" Consultant

On Saturday morning, I marched out to the yard to survey the land. My husband Mark—who has bravely navigated 102 countries with me and survived everything from chaotic foreign airports to my driving—took one look at my sketch and raised an eyebrow.

Mark is uber-handy and possesses the kind of broad-shouldered pragmatism required to keep my grand ideas grounded in reality.

Denise: "Mark, I think we should build a stone retaining wall right here to frame the hostas." Mark: "Denise, that's where the lawnmower turns around. And those aren't hostas, those are weeds."

Undeterred, I appointed him the Chief Engineering Officer of the project. I handle the creative vision; he handles the shovel. It’s the secret to a happy marriage, truly.

Phase 3: The Reality Check

Let’s just say that planting a garden is a lot like my golf game: it requires an immense amount of humility, and nothing is ever given.

I started digging what I thought would be a simple border for a new bed of lavender. Two inches down, I hit a rock the size of a Thanksgiving turkey. Then another. Apparently, the soil in Northbridge is roughly 80% granite. By hour three, I was covered in dirt, my knees were aching, and my grand fountain display looked more like a minor archaeological excavation.

Much like when I'm standing in a deep bunker at Shining Rock and wondering how on earth I'm going to get out, I had to stop and laugh at myself. My golf game is relatably tragic, and as it turns out, my landscaping style is "enthusiastic amateur with a touch of chaos."

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The Finished Product (For Now)

We didn't quite achieve the grand scale of Longwood Gardens. There are no synchronized water fountains dancing to classical music in my backyard. Yet.

But by Monday evening, after a lot of sweat, dodging rain, a few minor arguments over mulch distribution, and some serious teamwork, we had a beautifully put together bed filled cheerful pastel blooms, a neat row of perennial lavender, a few bird feeders and those climbing roses that Mark expertly hung along our fence. It's a great start. And it smells amazing!

Golf and gardening really do speak the same language. Both teach you discipline, both demand that you accept the occasional bad bounce, and both give you a grand adventure right in your own backyard.

Now that the yard is tamed, I am officially trading my gardening gloves back for my golf visor. You can expect to see me out practicing at the Shining Rock range all week long, trying to work out the kinks in my swing before the summer season kicks into high gear.

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How are your green thumbs holding up this May? Do you have any foolproof tips for keeping hydrangeas alive, or a favorite local nursery I should check out? Let me know in the comments below!