Planning Your 2025 Garden: Choosing Climate-Resilient Plants

Dear friend,

I hope this letter finds you settled in front of a warm fire or maybe just resting with a cup of tea by the window, watching the frosty winter sunlight find its way across the hills. Even though January in the Blue Ridge Mountains can feel like the quietest month—what with the gray skies and the bare trees—I’ve always found there’s a special energy this time of year. It’s as if the land’s resting heart is still beating, softly but steadily, beneath the surface. And like that hidden pulse, I can’t help but feel the growing anticipation for spring stirring within me.

But this isn’t just any old winter. Now that we’re looking ahead to the 2025 gardening season, a few extra concerns poke their heads up alongside the usual excitement of planning out what grows where. We’ve all noticed the weather shifting over the past few years—longer dry spells, more intense summer heat, and sudden heavy downpours that can wash away seeds if they’re not snug in place. So, I figure it’s wise we talk about climate-resilient plants and a bit of forward-thinking. All that really means is finding plants that can handle the shifting moods of Mother Nature and still bless us with flowers, fruits, or good, sturdy foliage, season after season.

The patterns that my grandfather relied upon have taken on a different shape. Springs come earlier or later, summers pack more scorching days in a row, and rains sometimes show up in punishing sheets or not at all. It’s not that the mountains have lost their magic—that is something they’ll never lose—but the rhythms are shifting. And so must our gardens.

When folks talk about “climate-resilient” plants, I think of it simply as choosing those that don’t protest too much when nature’s mood swings from dry to wet, or hot to cold, faster than usual. You’ll want to keep your eye on plants that can withstand brief spells of drought or those that don’t shrivel up at the first sign of a muggy August afternoon. For our area in the Blue Ridge, that’s often plants that are native or at least well-acquainted with the region’s temperament. If a flower or vegetable already knows the local soil and typical rainfall—give or take the new normal—then it’s likely to thrive with less fuss.

I remember standing on my porch one hot summer evening watching the leaves droop on certain plants in the yard. Oddly enough, the mountain laurels stood unbothered, their glossy leaves still as stoic and green as ever. Meanwhile, the big-leafed hydrangeas looked downright pitiful. That’s when I realized the difference between a plant that’s truly built for our climate and one that might need more pampering in these changing conditions. The mountain laurels, being native to our region, were better equipped to handle the hot stretch. And so I began to see that part of choosing climate-resilient plants means recognizing that local species have had centuries—if not millennia—to figure out how to handle these hills and hollers.

Of course, I’m not saying you should ditch your beloved heirloom tomato varieties or those bright zinnias you love so much. Goodness knows I couldn’t part with my Cherokee Purple tomatoes either. Rather, in planning your 2025 garden, try to think in layers. Maybe start with a backbone of strong, regionally adapted perennials—things like Echinacea (coneflowers) or Rudbeckia (Black-eyed Susans), both of which can tolerate a bit of dryness and still soldier on. Then, fill in the gaps with the annuals and vegetables you can’t live without. That way, if the weather does something surprising, you won’t lose the entire look or productivity of your space.

Another trick I’ve learned is to pay more attention to microclimates in the garden. The front yard might get blasted by the sun all day, while the backyard lingers in partial shade. The low spot near the creek might stay cooler and moister, whereas the hillside is prone to drying out. If you start to think of each of these little pockets as their own environment, you can match each area with plants that fit just right. Through some trial and error, I discovered that a clients southwestern corner, shielded by a small shed, actually supports basil better than the main herb bed. Why? Because that particular corner soaks up heat during the day and stays a little warmer at night, which basil loves. Meanwhile, the row of hostas thrives in a bed that hardly gets any direct sun and remains a tad damp. By dividing your garden into these sections, you can create a patchwork of plants that are right at home where they’re placed.

There’s also something to be said for adopting practices that make your soil heartier and better able to ride out the weather extremes. Compost, my dear friend, is magic for that. If your soil’s rich in organic matter, it’ll drain more easily in downpours and hold onto moisture better in times of drought. 

Mulch helps in the winter by maintaining a more constant soil temperature, and in the summer by slowing evaporation. If you’re planning for 2025, you might consider how you’ll replenish mulch each season and which types of mulch are readily available in your area. All the best planning in the world won’t do you much good if your plants are left to bake in the sun unprotected, or if the soil runs away in a torrent of rain. A good mulch layer is like a warm quilt for your garden bed.

Now, I suspect you might be curious about some specific climate-resilient plants worth considering. I’m especially partial to old-fashioned favorites that have proven themselves again and again. Take the daylily, for instance. There’s a reason you see them so often along roadsides and abandoned homesteads—they can handle full sun, soggy days, and just about everything in between. Baptisia (false indigo) is another hardy soul, with elegant spires of blueish-purple flowers and lovely seed pods that rattle in the breeze. For shrubs, consider native beauties like the oakleaf hydrangea or ninebark, which can handle a range of conditions and still shine.

As for vegetables, keep an eye out for open-pollinated or heirloom varieties that have thrived in the Southeast for generations. Many seed companies now include notes about drought tolerance or heat tolerance. If you’re new to starting from seed, read those descriptions carefully. You might come across a tomato variety that your neighbor swears by or that’s been grown for decades in a nearby holler. That local lineage can pay dividends when it comes to resilience.

But, don’t let all these considerations overshadow the joy of garden planning. When I sit down with my seed catalogs in the dead of winter, I feel like a child with a brand-new coloring book. The possibilities seem endless, and the biggest question is: how wild can my imagination run? A big part of planning is just letting yourself dream—of the bright snapdragons that might greet you by the door, or the sweet, sun-warmed strawberries you’ll snack on come June. If you keep climate resilience in mind as a guidepost rather than a rigid rule, you’ll find it can actually open up more options. Once you tune in to what the land wants to grow, you may find yourself discovering new flowers, herbs, or vegetable varieties you’d never even considered.

And let’s not forget the magic word: experimentation. Every single growing space is unique, even if your neighbor is only a few feet away. Don’t be afraid to try something new. If it flops, well, that’s just part of gardening. If it thrives, you can tuck that knowledge away and build on it next year. In the end, choosing climate-resilient plants isn’t about playing it safe or restricting yourself. It’s about meeting the land halfway and welcoming a little adventure into your garden.

I hope this letter lights a little spark in your winter dreaming for 2025. May you find the climate-resilient plants that call your place home, and may you discover new wonders while you’re at it.

Until next time, take good care of yourself, and maybe treat the birds to an extra feeder or suet cake. The garden might be quiet, but there’s still so much life out there, watching and waiting for spring.

Yours in winter warmth,
Logan