If 2025 taught me anything, it’s that nature has a wicked sense of humor. It’s the year my carefully pampered polytunnel tomatoes were outperformed by a 'wild' batch in tents out of bags, and my store-bought seeds refused to sprout while kitchen potato peelings thrived in the compost heap. It wasn't always pretty and the slugs certainly had their fill but it was a year of incredible growth, both for the plants and for me. Here is the unvarnished truth of my 2025 garden diary.
Season at a glance
- Hottest temp. recorded: 45°C at the base of tomato plants
- Biggest win: Peony roses flowering after root division
- Biggest lesson: Spacing is everything
- Pest control: Traditional & Kitchen-Based
Crop notes
Alliums
(Allium cepa (onion), Allium cepa var. aggregatum (shallot), Allium porrum (leek), Allium sativum (garlic), Allium schoenoprasum (chives))
This year's allium selection included grand plans for a steady supply of onions, shallots, leeks, garlic, and chives. Unfortunately, between March and July, there was surprisingly minimal growth across the board. By mid-summer, only a single row had successfully germinated and reached a height of over 10cm and if I am being completely honest, I am still not entirely sure which specific crop it was! I have a strong, sinking suspicion that in my zone to keep the bed tidy, I may have accidentally hoed up all the other emerging sprouts while weeding. It is a classic blunder and definitely a lesson learned for next year's planting.
Barley
(Hordeum vulgare)
This year’s barley was grown entirely "for science," using a batch of donated seed to run a three-part agricultural experiment across the garden. Batch one was an exercise in extreme shallow planting: I sowed the seeds on top of a cardboard box covered with just 5cm of garden soil, kept under glass. It looked fantastic initially, allowing me to move the whole thing out of the box like a literal living carpet! However, agricultural reality quickly set in. The shallow soil meant growth completely stalled at just 5 to 10cm, the leaves turned a sickly yellow, and while it miraculously managed to form grain, it produced a meager maximum of 10 kernels per stalk.
Batch two, on the other hand, was sprinkle-seeded directly in and around the active compost heaps. What a difference a nutrient-rich, deep environment makes! This second batch shot up to three times the height of the first, boasting vibrant, deep green leaves. Taking the lessons from both, I sowed a third and final batch later in the season. After harvesting the potatoes, I sprinkle-seeded the leftover barley directly onto the bare ground, covering it with a mix of soils and composts to grow purely as a green manure. It was a brilliant, practical way to use up the donated seed, protect the empty beds over the winter, and give back to the soil for 2026!
Basil
(Ocimum basilicum)
Much like the lettuce and the lavender, basil was another crop that simply refused to play along this season. Despite my efforts, I had absolutely zero success getting it to grow from seed this year. Whether it was the seeds themselves, the temperature, or just a stubborn streak of bad luck, not a single plant made it to the kitchen. It is always a bit disappointing to miss out on having fresh basil on hand for cooking, but chalking up a few total losses is just part of the reality of gardening. There is always next season to try again!
Beetroot
(Beta vulgaris)
This year’s beetroot journey started with seeds imported from Poland, but I quickly ran into a classic hurdle: sowing them much too close together in the polytunnel. After thinning the rows out on multiple occasions, I ended up with an indoor harvest that varied wildly in shape and size, ranging from pencil-thin roots to impressive, tennis ball-sized beets. On the bright side, pulling them up left the polytunnel’s soil wonderfully loosened and prepped for the next crop!
Refusing to let the thinnings go to waste, I transplanted a number of them outside, alongside some additional direct outdoor sowings that were successfully moved to their final spots in mid-July. These outdoor crops became a fantastic soil experiment. The initial transplants absolutely thrived in a mound of layered compostable materials topped with a final mulch of shop-bought compost. Meanwhile, the later batch finished their growth in a custom blend of one-third straw, one-third grass clippings, and one-third garden soil, kept well-watered through the summer heatwaves. Ultimately, the extra effort and outdoor space paid off beautifully. With increased spacing and these rich soil mixes, the roots had the room they needed to properly develop, completely outgrowing that first, cramped harvest from the polytunnel.
Bell Pepper
(Capsicum annuum)
This year's bell pepper crop began as a bit of a frugal gardening experiment, as I primarily grew them from seeds extracted directly from store-bought peppers. Unfortunately, this turned out to be one of the season's biggest challenges. The seedlings I planted out in the polytunnel met a swift and mysterious end, having been completely devoured by an unknown pest before they even had a chance to establish themselves. I had hoped for better luck with the remaining batch kept safely indoors, but those simply gave up the ghost, stalling out and refusing to grow past a height of roughly 10cm. Whether it was the genetics of the store-bought seeds or just a tricky growing season, it seems bell peppers will require a completely different strategy next year!
Brassicas
(Brassica oleracea (cabbage), Brassica oleracea var. botrytis (cauliflower), and Brassica oleracea var. italica (broccoli))
This year's attempt at growing cabbage, cauliflower, and broccoli was definitely a learning experience. While the plants successfully grew to a lush, leafy stage, they unfortunately never formed any actual heads. To make matters more challenging, these crops proved to be incredibly prone to slug damage throughout the season, turning the leaves into a bit of a buffet. However, every garden setback is just a lesson for next year! After discussing the lack of heads with both a commercial farmer and a fellow hobbyist gardener, I received the exact same valuable piece of advice from both: in the future, I need to transplant my brassica seedlings much deeper into the ground to give them the proper support and anchoring they need to develop fully.
Calendula
(Calendula officinalis)
Also known as pot marigold, the calendula was a fantastic, easy-going addition to the garden this year. It absolutely thrived in full sun, flowering profusely and requiring very little effort to maintain while providing a wonderful pop of vibrant colour. However, much like the columbine, it wasn't completely without its pest challenges; I noticed it can be quite prone to aphid (Aphidoidea) infestations right at the peak of its flowering stage. Despite the unwanted visitors, it is a remarkably generous plant. The unique, claw-like seed heads are incredibly easy to spot and collect, so I have already gathered plenty for next year's sowings and pruned the existing plants back to prepare them for the season ahead.
Carrot
(Daucus carota)
This year’s carrot crop featured a mix of varied varieties sown directly into the polytunnel, and it provided another classic lesson in the importance of spacing. Much like my early beetroot attempts, I fell into the trap of seeding them far too close together. The result was a bed full of incredibly rich, lush green foliage that looked deceptively successful from the surface. However, beneath the soil, the crowded conditions meant the roots simply didn't have the space to swell, leaving me with a harvest of tiny carrots no longer than 5cm! While the harvest itself was definitely on the miniature side, there was a great silver lining to the experiment: pulling up all those little roots left the polytunnel soil wonderfully loosened, aerated, and perfectly prepped for whatever I decide to plant there next.
Columbine
(Aquilegia vulgaris)
This resident columbine has been established on the property for a number of years now, and to be perfectly honest, it has proven to be quite intrusive. Thanks to its incredibly deep roots and enthusiastic self-seeding habits, it takes a concerted effort to keep it in check. Beyond its aggressive spread, it practically acts as a luxury hotel for garden pests. It actively attracts aphids (Aphidoidea) throughout its flowering stages, and as the season turns, earwigs (Forficula auricularia) happily move into the empty seed pods to seek shelter for the autumn and winter. It is safe to say this is one plant that provides more pest-control headaches than actual benefits!
Crocosmia (Montbretia)
(Crocosmia spp.)
Crocosmia, also commonly known as montbretia, is the ultimate "plant and forget" perennial in the garden. It is incredibly easy to maintain and happily thrives in a wide variety of soils. The standard varieties put on a beautiful display of orange flowers, while the striking Crocosmia 'Lucifer' blooms in a brilliant, fiery red. However, this hardiness comes with a caveat: it can quickly become invasive thanks to its rapidly multiplying, bulb-like underground rhizomes (often called corms). If you want to propagate them or just keep their spread in check, you can easily dig up and split these little root "conkers," or simply harvest the seeds. After the vibrant floral display finishes, the plant and foliage naturally die back. I usually just cut it all down to tidy up for the winter, knowing it will reliably shoot right back up the following year. Just a quick word of caution for those with pets or curious little ones: the safety of this plant is questionable, as ingesting it can cause gastrointestinal upset.
Dill
(Anethum graveolens)
This season's dill featured two different seed varieties imported all the way from Poland. Instead of planting it as a primary crop destined for the kitchen, I scattered the seeds throughout the polytunnel specifically to serve as a natural insect repellent. It has successfully grown in minimal quantities—perhaps not enough for a massive culinary harvest, but perfectly sufficient for its intended companion-planting role. It is always great when a plant can do the hard work of pest control for you!
European Gooseberry
(Ribes uva-crispa)
This year's European gooseberry addition came all the way from a commercial supplier in Poland. If you have been staring at them wondering if they are doing anything at all, rest assured—this is a very normal part of the process! Since being placed in the ground, these cuttings haven't put on any noticeable top growth, and they certainly haven't produced any flowers or fruit. However, fruiting shrubs often follow the classic "sleep, creep, leap" rule. In their first year, they are likely just "sleeping" above ground while spending all of their energy establishing a robust root system below the soil. Adapting to a new climate and putting down anchors takes a lot of effort. While it might look like nothing is happening, setting that strong underground foundation now is exactly what they need to produce a successful harvest in the years to come.
French Bean
(Phaseolus vulgaris)
This year’s French beans required a healthy dose of persistence, demanding multiple sowings both inside and outside the polytunnel. The outdoor crops met a rather swift and tragic end, entirely consumed by hungry garden pests—I strongly suspect the local slug population enjoyed a very satisfying bean buffet! Thankfully, the batches kept safely inside the polytunnel fared much better, though they certainly took their time getting established. After a noticeably slow and stubborn start, they finally caught their stride, rewarding my patience with an absolute explosion of rapid, healthy growth in early July.
Gherkin
(Cucumis anguria)
This year's gherkin crop, grown from seeds imported from Poland, required a bit of patience at the start. For the first few weeks, the growth was incredibly slow, making me wonder if they were going to do much at all! However, once the plants finally reached their flowering stage, they underwent a rapid and impressive development. Because I wanted to guarantee a good harvest, I decided to intervene a little. Recognising the female flowers closer to the ground—which you can spot by the tiny, unfertilised fruit sitting right behind the petals—I carefully pollinated them by hand. As the vines grew taller, I stepped back and left the upper flowers to the bees and natural pollinators. Speaking of growing taller, my absolute favorite success with this crop was my trellising solution: I let the gherkin vines climb straight up the sturdy stalks of my sunflowers! It was a fantastic use of companion planting and vertical space, acting as a brilliant living trellis.
Lavender
(Lavandula spp.)
Growing lavender from seed is notoriously challenging, and my 2025 season certainly proved that rule. Despite sowing seeds on multiple occasions and hoping for the best, the results were decidedly tragic. Out of all those attempts, only a single brave plant managed to germinate and claw its way up to a promising height of about 15cm. Sadly, just as I was starting to get my hopes up, it abruptly gave up the ghost and died. Lavender seedlings are incredibly finicky, slow-growing, and highly susceptible to even the slightest overwatering or damp conditions. While it was a valiant effort, next year I might just save myself the heartbreak and buy a few established nursery plants instead!
Lemon Balm
(Melissa officinalis)
Lemon balm proved to be an absolute powerhouse in the garden this year. It is incredibly versatile when it comes to propagation—while it grows readily from seed, I found you can just as easily split an established root ball or take a few cuttings to effortlessly multiply your stock. It is also remarkably unfussy about its real estate, happily settling down and growing well in just about any soil type I offered it. The biggest takeaway from this season, however, was how much it absolutely loves a good haircut! I quickly noticed that the more frequently I pruned it back, the more energy was directed into promoting new growth.
Lettuce
(Lactuca sativa)
If there was an award for the most stubborn crop of the season, the lettuce would win it hands down. I tried absolutely everything to coax these seeds into life. Using the same batch of seed, I sowed them on multiple occasions and tested practically every environment available: outside in the elements, safely inside, under protective cover, directly onto bare ground, and even nestled into premium shop-bought compost. Despite all of these exhaustive efforts, the final germination rate was a flat, unyielding 0%. Not a single sprout appeared! Sometimes in gardening, you just have to accept that it isn't your technique that is at fault. I can confidently assume this was simply a case of out-of-date or expired seed. It is a frustrating but inevitable part of growing your own food, and a very stark reminder to always check the dates on those packets before planning a crop!
Lovage
(Levisticum officinale)
I started this year's lovage from seed indoors before deciding to experiment a bit by transplanting the seedlings into multiple locations across the garden. The great news is that this robust herb proved to be wonderfully unfussy—it seemed perfectly happy to establish itself and grow in just about any soil type I put it in! However, while the soil didn't seem to matter much, the lighting made a massive difference in the plant's life cycle. While all the transplanted lovage survived and put on leafy growth, only the plant specifically positioned in full sun actually managed to flower and successfully go to seed. It was a fantastic natural experiment right in the garden, showing exactly what this plant needs if you want to harvest seeds for the following year.
Pea
(Pisum sativum)
This year's pea crop consisted of two separate sowings, neither of which quite went to plan. For the first attempt, I relied on a stash of old seeds, which resulted in a disappointing—though perhaps unsurprising—germination rate of exactly 0%. Hoping for better luck with the second batch, I decided to try direct-seeding them right in alongside the potatoes. While they did actually manage to sprout this time around, the plants suffered from incredibly slow development and showed only minimal growth throughout the rest of the season. It seems 2025 just wasn't the year for peas.
Peony Roses
(Paeonia spp.)
Early in the year, I took the plunge and split up the roots of the peony roses. Given how notoriously dramatic peonies can be after being disturbed, I had absolutely zero expectations of seeing any flowers this season. For a while, the plants seemed to confirm my suspicions; their foliage growth stubbornly halted at around 30cm, leaving them looking quite bare with only a small handful of leaves. But then came the biggest, most delightful surprise of the season! Despite their incredibly sparse appearance, every single one of those newly transplanted roots successfully managed to produce a bloom. While the flowers themselves only lasted for a few fleeting days, the fact that they flowered at all after such a heavy division was a massive, unexpected victory for the garden.
Poppies
(Papaver spp.)
Poppies were another wildcard in the garden this past season. Hoping for a vibrant, effortless display, I sowed multiple varieties across a range of different soils and experimented with both sunny and shady locations. Unfortunately, they just weren't having it, and I saw very minimal success when it came to actual germination. But a gardener's optimism is hard to squash! Instead of giving up on them, I took it as a challenge. I have spent time collecting several different seed varieties from multiple sources—including foraging a few wild ones—to build up an absolute arsenal for 2026. Hopefully, next year's scatter will finally bring the colorful, papery blooms I was aiming for.
Potato
(Solanum tuberosum)
This year’s potato patch was a massive experiment in "no-dig" gardening. I planted a mix of shop-bought spuds and three specific varieties of seed potatoes (Caruso, Mozart and... ?) directly onto cardboard, opting to heavily mulch them with grass clippings and straw instead of traditionally hilling them with soil. The harvest itself was quite modest—yielding a lovely, individual-sized batch of baby potatoes rather than a commercial-scale crop. However, the experiment was a massive success in a completely different way! The sheer weight of the mulch and the cardboard completely killed off all the underlying grass and weeds without me having to do any exhausting physical prep work beforehand.
That being said, I walked away with a crucial note for the future: just piling organic matter on top isn't quite enough for a bumper crop. The roots couldn't break through the cardboard or the hard ground underneath, which severely limited their growing space. Potatoes really require loose soil and room to develop tubers below the seed, alongside the hilling above it. Oh, and in a classic twist of gardening irony, while my carefully managed potato bed yielded a small harvest, rogue potato foliage has happily started sprouting up all over the compost heaps just from discarded kitchen peelings!
Radish
(Raphanus sativus)
Radishes are usually touted as a quick and easy win in the garden, but this year's polytunnel crop decided to rush through its lifecycle a bit too eagerly. Instead of focusing their energy on plumping up into crisp, round harvests, the plants bolted—going straight to seed before the roots could properly develop. The few radishes I did manage to pull from the soil were decidedly misshapen and varied wildly in size. It is a classic sign that the enclosed environment of the polytunnel might have just been a little too warm for this cool-weather crop, triggering their natural instinct to flower and reproduce as quickly as possible!
Spider Plant
(Chlorophytum comosum)
My spider plant started the year indoors, but it was suffering from noticeably stunted growth. Suspecting it might need a refresh, I decided to repot it into a larger container using store-bought compost. Sure enough, pulling it from its old pot revealed an incredibly extensive, tightly wound root network—it was completely rootbound! Once freed from its cramped conditions and moved out into the warm, humid environment of the polytunnel, the plant absolutely thrived. It bounced back beautifully, eventually flowering and producing a flush of new shoots (or "spiderettes") that I have already collected and rooted to create new plants. In fact, it loved its polytunnel summer holiday so much that it quickly outgrew its upgraded container and required a second repotting just to keep up with its massive root development!
Strawberry
(Fragaria x ananassa)
My strawberry patch began this year with bare roots gathered from various sources, which I planted directly into the ground inside the polytunnel. Unfortunately, they didn't get off to the most vigorous start. Their growth seemingly stalled right after planting, and as a result, I didn't see a single flower or piece of fruit form this entire season. However, I didn't give up on them! I decided to top-dress the bed with a thick mulch layer of shop-bought compost, and it turned out to be exactly what they needed. The mother plants finally woke up, putting on a fantastic display of healthy, lush foliage. Better yet, they began sending out numerous creeping shoots, or runners. While I didn't get to harvest any actual strawberries this year, my harvest ended up being new plants! I spent the latter half of the season collecting these shoots and potting them up individually, setting the stage for a much larger, and hopefully much more fruitful, strawberry patch next year.
Sunflower
(Helianthus annuus)
This year’s sunflowers had a rather dramatic season. After a particularly windy Scottish spell, a loose polytunnel cover ended up repeatedly bashing the plants, leaving many of their thick stems snapped and broken. Instead of pulling them up and admitting defeat, I decided to leave the damaged stalks right where they were to serve as sturdy, living trellises for the climbing gherkins I mentioned earlier. To my absolute amazement, these resilient plants didn't just act as passive support poles. Despite the severe structural damage, several of them rallied, continuing to grow up to 6 feet in height and even rewarding me with a few small, cheerful flower heads by the end of the season. It was a perfect lesson in making the best of a bad situation and letting nature adapt!
Tomato
(Solanum lycopersicum)
This year’s tomato crop was a tale of two completely different growing methods—and a fantastic masterclass in why spacing matters. Inside the polytunnel, I grew multiple varieties but fell into the classic trap of planting them far too close together, which immediately stunted their growth. Making the tough call to pull up several plants to free up space was exactly what the remaining ones needed; they quickly rewarded the extra airflow and root room with a surge of new growth and multiple flowers. I heavily pruned a selection of these polytunnel plants, leaving only one or two suckers to develop into full cordons. A quick note on those trimmings: I threw them all straight into the compost, but because tomato stems root so incredibly easily, I have to keep a close eye on the pile to make sure I don't accidentally grow a compost-bin tomato jungle!
The real surprise of the season, however, was my "wild batch."
- The setup: Grown entirely outside in their own individual protective "tents"- chicken fence covered with a clear plastic bag over the top.
- The method: Absolutely zero pruning. I just let them do their thing.
- The result: They completely outgrew their enclosures and ended up producing a significantly higher quantity of fruit than the carefully managed polytunnel plants!
Whether this massive difference in yield was down to the lack of pruning or the completely different soil compositions between the inside and outside beds is an experiment to continue next season. Finally, because I am committed to using zero chemical pesticides in the garden, the final harvest was a very honest 50/50 split: half beautiful, usable produce for the kitchen, and half rejects that became a feast for the local pests. That is just the true, unvarnished reality of natural ways of growing!
Polytunnel Climate & Environment
This year's temperature monitoring revealed a crucial piece of the puzzle regarding the polytunnel's microclimate. At the peak of the season, the thermometer placed right at the base of the tomato crops recorded a staggering maximum temperature of 45°C. This extreme heat easily explains some of the challenges faced indoors this year! Temperatures that high can easily cause cool-weather crops like radishes to panic and prematurely bolt to seed, and it can cause severe stress, flower drop, and stunted growth in tomatoes. While the temperature was somewhat watched, humidity levels were not monitored this time around. Tracking both heat and humidity—and perhaps increasing ventilation—will definitely be a priority for 2026 to help prevent the polytunnel from turning into quite such an extreme sauna during the peak of summer.
Watering Techniques & Heatwave Management
With polytunnel temperatures hitting a blistering 45°C this year, irrigation had to become a highly adaptable, multi-layered strategy rather than just a simple daily chore. My watering approach evolved drastically depending on the plant's life stage and the severity of the summer heatwaves:
- The gentle start: For delicate seeds and newly sprouted seedlings, I relied strictly on mist watering. This gentle approach ensured the soil surface stayed consistently moist without washing away tiny seeds or battering fragile new stems.
- The heatwave defense: As the plants matured and the intense heatwaves rolled in, the strategy had to escalate. I employed a mix of misting the foliage to provide immediate surface cooling, alongside heavier overhead showering to knock off pests and refresh the leaves.
- Deep hydration: When the heat was at its absolute peak, surface watering simply wasn't enough. I resorted to heavily drenching—and sometimes borderline "drowning"—the soils. This was essential to ensure the moisture actually penetrated deeply enough to reach the lowest root zones before evaporating in the baking heat.
Kitchen-Based Pest Control and fertilisation
In line with my commitment to a zero-chemical garden, this season was defined by "home-brewed" solutions. I relied heavily on manual applications and natural repellents to manage both the 45°C heat stress and the persistent pest pressure.
- Fermented garlic foliar spray: To create a potent natural repellent, I fermented 55g of chopped garlic in 25L of water outdoors. This base was applied once a month using a hand-pump pressure sprayer during the leafy stages of growth (strictly before flowering). I found a dilution of 250ml of garlic base to 2.25L of water (making a 2.5L total mix) provided a strong enough scent to deter many flying and crawling pests.
- Liquid seaweed root drench: For a nutrient boost, I filled a 25L tub with uncompressed fresh seaweed and topped it with water, allowing it to break down into a dark, mineral-rich tonic. This was applied as a root drench, diluted at a ratio of 1 part seaweed liquid to 5 parts water.
- The spice barrier: To combat the slugs and soil-borne pests, I turned to the kitchen pantry. Before the plants reached their flowering stage, I dusted the foliage directly with chili powder. I also created a "ring of fire" and protection around the base of the plants by sprinkling a mix of chili powder, cinnamon, and garlic powder. This multi-scent barrier was a key part of my strategy to keep the more sensitive crops from being completely devoured.
Content has been drafted by a human and rewritten by AI. E&OE.