I’m not what you’d call a “plant person,” alright? I mean, I like the idea of plants. I like dirt, in theory. I like sitting outside with coffee, staring at the ground, wishing it would just fill itself in. But I don’t know what I’m doing. And my backyard knows that. Deeply. Personally.
So when I decided, on a random Tuesday (might’ve been May? Could’ve been June…), that I wanted to cover the dry, cracked, emotionally barren stretch of soil next to my fence, I had zero plan. Just vibes. And like, a Pinterest board. That I hadn’t updated since 2017.
I googled something like “plants that don’t need much from me,” and that turned into this rabbit hole of ground cover options. Some with names that sounded like indie bands. Some I thought were fake. But I went to the nursery anyway, poked at a few little pots, mumbled something about “full sun,” and somehow ended up with a cardboard tray full of what turned out to be—miraculously—survivors.
I can’t tell you what order I planted these in, or even where exactly. But here’s what I remember about the ones that didn’t give up on me.
Sedum — Honestly? I Ignored It and It Got Prettier
The only reason I bought sedum is because the plant tag said “drought-tolerant,” and I was like, me too, bestie. It’s one of those succulents with fat, juicy little leaves that seem like they could survive a minor apocalypse. I planted some near a sun-blasted corner where grass had given up entirely. Came back a week later and it looked… happy?
It started green, then slowly turned red. Or maybe burgundy? I don’t know color names. But it looked alive. Better than me in August, anyway.
Creeping Thyme — I Stepped On It, It Smelled Nice, We Forgave Each Other
I put this in because someone said it smells good if you walk on it. Which feels like a weird pitch, but it stuck. The flowers are these small purple things that sort of show up whenever they feel like it—no schedule. And when you brush past it or accidentally trample it with flip-flops? Boom. Instant herbal face mist.
Also, the deer in my neighborhood (freelancers, mostly) walk right by it. No interest.
Want to try this for your whole yard? Find out if replacing your lawn grass with creeping thyme is the right move for you.
Blue Star Creeper — Seemed Fragile, Turned Into a Landlord
I didn’t trust it at first. It was too cute. Like a fairy might use it as a rug. But then it spread—fast. It just kept going, like it had a mortgage to pay. Little blue flowers. Looks soft. But it definitely tried to evict a chunk of nearby grass, which was honestly fine. The grass wasn’t doing its job anyway.
It likes sun but doesn’t get pouty in shade either. And yeah, it wants some water. Nothing dramatic.
Dwarf Crested Iris — Tiny Drama Queen, But It Works
This one’s… dainty? That’s not a word I use often. It bloomed for like four minutes in spring, these delicate purple things that looked expensive somehow. But the leaves are sturdy. Didn’t fry in the heat, even when I forgot to water during that one week I got obsessed with rewatching The Sopranos.
It looks like the kind of plant that should be fussy, but it isn’t. No deer damage either, which at this point feels like a miracle.
Corsican Mint — I Thought It Died. It Didn’t. Smells Fancy.
This one confused me. It’s short. Like really short. Like “I stepped on it and panicked” short. But it bounced back. Smells minty when you rub the leaves, kind of like gum but earthier. Needs water, for sure. If your soil dries out completely, it might ghost you for a bit. But then after it rains? Boom. Back like nothing happened.
Creeping Jenny — I Mean, She’s Just Showing Off
Okay. I bought this plant for the name alone. Creeping Jenny?? Sounds like a villain in a low-budget horror movie. But wow—Jenny thrives in sun. She’s bright green, borderline fluorescent in good light. Kind of vines out, no real direction, just goes where she pleases. Which I relate to.
She survived a dry spell that turned my hose brittle, so, she’s tougher than she looks. Might take over your mulch, though. She’s not subtle.
Ice Plant — Makes No Sense, I Love It Anyway
This one’s wild. Looks like little green pickles growing out of the dirt, and then—suddenly—fireworks. Pink, purple, sometimes white. The flowers are ridiculous. It’s like a Lisa Frank notebook exploded in the yard. It barely needs water. I honestly forgot about it for a month and it looked better when I came back.
Woolly Thyme — Texturally Confusing, But In a Good Way
This stuff is like if a plant and a bath mat had a baby. Soft, kind of fuzzy, and it doesn’t care if the sun is trying to kill it. I put it near the edge of the patio, and it just kind of hangs there. Doesn’t do much. Doesn’t ask for much. Honestly, I respect the lack of ambition.
Golden Creeping Jenny — Like Jenny, But on Caffeine
So apparently there are two Jennys. This one is bright. Yellow-gold leaves that kind of hurt your eyes if you stare at them too long. But in a fun way? She fades a little in the shade—goes more lime than gold—but still hangs in there. She wants water, ideally, but I forgot for five days during a heatwave and she held the line.
Veronica — Honestly I Forgot I Planted It Until It Bloomed
This one didn’t make much of a first impression. Just sat there. But then one morning—boom—blue flowers. And then again a month later, pink ones? Maybe I got two varieties. I don’t know. Either way, it’s one of those plants that minds its business and still pulls its weight. My kind of guest.
Quick Note Before You Shove These In the Dirt
Don’t do what I did and crowd everything like you’re planting a panic salad. Most of these want a little space—like 12 to 18 inches between them. I didn’t know that. I had to dig up two plants later because they were choking each other out like siblings on a road trip.
Also, make sure your soil isn’t swampy. Drainage matters. I had one patch that turned into mud soup and nothing lasted there except maybe a frog.
That’s It. That’s the Garden.
I didn’t plan this well. I didn’t label anything. I don’t remember which pot came from where. But somehow, the yard looks less sad now. Still a little messy. Still has weeds. But there are green things holding the ground together, and some color, and I can sit out there without feeling like the land is personally rejecting me.
If you’re tired of dead grass and you don’t want to fuss, maybe start with a Jenny. Or thyme. Or honestly whatever catches your eye at the nursery when you’re half-asleep and holding an iced coffee.
