Where to start? Exactly.

When I’m planning a project epic in scale – and every project tends to be some degree of epic in my mind – the starting line is daunting. Thoughts and ideas are battling it out; the lineup changes every other day. For me and my mental mess, the best way to start is to trick myself into making decisions. 

Have you ever been faced with two options, only to flip a coin? Heads is the latte and tails the mocha. You flip. It lands on tails, and suddenly the rules change to two out of three. You want the latte. You wanted the latte all along, and you just tricked yourself into making that decision. Really, it works.

Step One: Gather the things that make you go “hmmm” 
Inspiration can come from anywhere: books, magazines, garden tours, catalogs, Pinterest. If a vignette makes you stop, take note. It doesn’t have to be garden specific; the colors, textures, and tone of your personal style will resonate throughout your life, from your shoes to your art and definitely your garden.

Going old school inspiration with a glue stick

I’ve set up a 1326 Project Pinterest board and am pinning away. I also am a big fan of collages. Pinning and tearing and pinning and tearing and gluing. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as I like it. Projects, blooms, colors, the serious and the not so serious.

Step Two: Connect the dots
With the swipe of a glue stick and click of a shutter or mouse, you may not realize it, but you’re making decisions. Look for reoccurring thoughts and themes. Are there any flowers or colors that keep reappearing? Bam! You just tricked yourself into knowing exactly what you want. Sneaky. 

It's early to make any definite conclusions, but thus far, I’ve noticed two things. One, I have a weakness for overly frilly roses and peonies. Two, I’m drawn to the organized, clean look of raised bed vegetable gardens. It’s like a fancy formal garden without having to shape evergreens or stop for high tea.

Yes, everything outside is snow/ice/slush covered, but there are seven weeks until spring, plenty of time to start starting.

The Project

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’ve never had a proper garden before. In fact, the few houseplants I own live despite any care I manage to give them. To said houseplants: I’m sorry, really I am. It’s just, like I said, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t even know what you are – besides green and sometimes crunchy. Please don’t scoff at the idea of my writing a gardening blog.

This story – the 1326 story – begins several months ago, the night before a job interview. I was out with girlfriends, sipping on nerve-calming cocktails, trying to name all the flowering shrubs I could.

“Roses, right? And lilacs. Are peonies shrubs? No? Really, are you sure? Okay, uh, hydrangeas. I read about them on the dude’s blog.”

The interview was for Spring Meadow Nursery, home of Proven Winners shrubs, and “the dude” was Tim Wood, my now boss. In this version of the tale, he found my gardening incompetency absolutely endearing and said, “Don’t worry, Shannon. We can teach you the plant stuff.” So, I got the job, and during the first week, I confirmed all suspicions about peonies. They are not shrubs.

The "Before" shot. Be gone, ugly shrubs!

Shortly after the job came the house. Set in the idyllic lakeside town of Grand Haven, Michigan is our 100 year old home - the perfect spot for my boyfriend, dog and me to settle down. It's charming, has a vintage kitchen sink that I fell in love with right away... and features the most horendous, monster green blobs eating the whole front yard.

Okay, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I have to do something. {Nay-saying houseplants wail in the background} I can’t just stand around and let ugly evergreens have the run of our yard, not when I work in the gardening industry, not when I have access to amazing gardening minds at least five days a week. Our house is better than that. We're better than that. So I pouted and pitched (did I mention it was a marketing job?) and got everyone to agree to help with the project, The 1326 Project. I'll plan and plant, water and wait, documenting every step - and misstep - along the way.