Sweet Pea Grower Stories

Real stories from gardeners growing sweet peas across North America.

Growing Sweet Peas Against the Odds

Ms. Small grew up visiting her grandmother's garden in the Appalachian foothills, where flowers filled both the fields and the yard around the family home.

Peonies flowered in spring, followed by old roses and months of fragrant garden phlox. Nearby, rows of zinnias, cosmos, and Queen Anne's lace provided armfuls of flowers for the house.

Today she gardens in Durham, North Carolina, where growing sweet peas can be a challenge. Hot weather often arrives early, and drought is never far away.

Even so, she sows sweet peas every autumn and celebrates every bloom that appears in spring.

This year, despite extreme drought and temperatures already reaching the 90s, Blue Vein, Nimbus, and High Scent rewarded her efforts with flowers.

"It is such a struggle to grow sweet peas in the South, but I still try every year."

~Ms. Small North Carolina

The Sweet Peas by the Chimney

Some of Wendy's earliest garden memories involve sweet peas growing at the base of her grandmother's chimney.

Each year they climbed the old bricks, looking effortless and carefree. As a child, Wendy assumed they simply appeared on their own. Only later did she come to appreciate the care and attention that must have gone into them.

Those days in the garden were shared with both her grandmother and great-grandmother. Even into her nineties, her great-grandmother could still be found helping in the garden.

Today, Wendy credits those women for her own love of flowers and gardening. The sweet peas that once climbed the chimney remain a connection to the generations that came before her.

"She would be proud to walk around and see that I too had a love of flowers like her and her mother."

— Wendy B.

The Sweet Peas That Saw Them Through

Thomas's family began growing sweet peas nearly a century ago.

In 1926, his father was working at a bank in Port Arthur, Texas. When the Great Depression arrived, bank employees endured repeated pay cuts, and many families struggled simply to keep their homes and put food on the table.

Fortunately, Thomas's father had a gift for growing plants. He rooted chrysanthemums and sold them through a neighbor who worked downtown. The extra income helped the family survive some of the hardest years.

Then one winter he decided to try something new: sweet peas.

The flowers thrived in the mild coastal climate, blooming abundantly through the winter months. Thomas's father began making small bouquets, which his neighbor sold just as quickly as she could take them to town.

The sweet peas helped provide a little extra income during those difficult years, and from that point on his father considered them his lucky flower.

For the next sixty winters, he grew sweet peas every year.

When Thomas's father passed away, Thomas continued the tradition. Today he still grows sweet peas each winter, and their fragrance carries him back to childhood memories of bouquets on his mother's kitchen table.

"He decided that they were his lucky plant and started growing them every year for the next 60 winters."

~Thomas, Texas Gulf Coast

The Scissors by the Fence

Growing up on the coast of Maine, Cherie's grandmother lived just a ten-minute walk away.

Every summer, sweet peas climbed a beautiful white fence in her yard. Cherie remembers their soft colors and fragrance, but most of all she remembers her grandmother's generosity.

Fresh bouquets were shared freely with friends and neighbors. A pair of scissors was left in a prominent spot so that people walking to and from the beach could stop and cut their own sweet peas to take home.

Today, Cherie still grows sweet peas every summer. Whenever they bloom, they bring back memories of her grandmother, the white fence, and the flowers that were always there waiting to be shared.

"She cut and gave away many bouquets, but also left a pair of scissors in a prominent spot so that friends and neighbors as they went to and from the beach could stop and cut themselves a bouquet."

~ Cherie H.,Maine

The Triangle Garden by the Shed

Sweet peas were Chris's first gardening experience.

As a child, his father gave him a small corner of the family garden and taught him the satisfaction of planting seeds, tending growing plants, and watching flowers appear. Among those early flowers were sweet peas.

For years afterward, Chris continued to grow sweet peas along a fence in his own garden. When he later downsized to a condominium, he missed them.

Then came an opportunity he had waited years for: a plot in a local community garden.

While researching heirloom sweet peas, Chris discovered Sweet Pea Gardens and placed an order on release day. Before long, sweet peas were climbing once again.

Their fragrance became part of his daily routine as he spent spring mornings preparing beds, planting vegetables, and caring for his garden.

The plot itself acquired a nickname. When fellow gardeners asked where he was located, Chris would simply reply, "The triangle garden by the shed."

The name stuck.

Today, visitors know him as "Triangle Garden Chris"—a community gardener with a fondness for heirloom sweet peas, a sense of whimsy, and a garden filled with flowers and vegetables.

"Their scent brought me particular joy as I got my daily morning workout this spring preparing beds and planting my vegetable garden."

~Chris L., "Triangle Garden Chris"

From "Never Again" to "Maybe We Need Another Trellis"

This was our first year growing sweet peas in southern Michigan.

At one point, we were sure we had lost them all. An unexpected cold snap turned the plants yellow overnight, and we thought they were finished. Somehow, they held on.

Then came an early warm spell that stunted their growth, and we began to wonder if we'd ever see a bloom.

After all of the setbacks and loss of hope, Charlie's Angel, King's Ransom, and Gilly Norah finally flowered—and they were spectacular. More beautiful and fragrant than we had imagined.

We went from saying, "Never again," to "Maybe we should add another trellis for more next year."

What an amazingly resilient, beautiful, and unbelievably scented flower.

~Anthony, Michigan (June 2026)

 

Sweet Peas, Strawberries & Memories of Nova Scotia

Some of my earliest garden memories are of my great-grandmother's sweet peas growing against the whitewashed wall of her farmhouse in Cheverie, Nova Scotia. Their fragrance and beauty stayed with me long after childhood.

Today, I garden in the San Juan Islands, a place that often reminds me of the farmlands and forests I knew growing up. Sweet peas are woven throughout an extensive maze of raised beds connected by trellises, where they mingle freely with peonies, clematis, strawberries, roses, dahlias, and alliums.

The garden itself exists because the island is mostly rock and heavy clay, making raised beds a necessity rather than a luxury. Over the years, the strawberries have escaped their designated beds and now seem determined to take over everything in sight. Friends, visitors, and jars of homemade jam are all beneficiaries of their enthusiasm.

One corner of the garden has become a particularly cheerful tangle of strawberries, peonies, alliums, emerging dahlias, and sweet peas. Despite the crowded conditions, the sweet peas push straight through the abundance, reaching for the sun and thriving among their companions.

I sometimes think my great-grandmother would smile at the sight of it all. Perhaps those sweet peas weaving through the strawberries are her way of sending a little hug—and a little laugh—across the generations.

"Sweet peas are an added bonus."

~Paula, San Juan Islands, Washington  (June 2026)

Saving Seed and Growing On

Sweet peas have a way of rewarding persistence.

Elizabeth gardens in Berkeley, California, overlooking San Francisco Bay. Despite challenges from deer, mice, and a growing season that seemed determined to move at its own pace, many of her sweet peas survived and flourished.

This year, Alisa and Gilly Norah are blooming beautifully alongside Nimbus plants grown from seed she saved from the previous season. Not content with a single crop, Elizabeth has already started a second sowing and hopes to enjoy sweet peas well into autumn.

One of the things I love most about her story is the continuity. Flowers grown from saved seed, blooming in the same garden year after year, each generation carrying something forward from the last.

Elizabeth also shared photographs of her sweet peas arranged in one of our vintage cigar press vases—a reminder that the journey doesn't end when the flowers are cut. The best blooms always find their way indoors.

"I'm looking forward to what next year's seeds bring."

~Elizabeth, Berkeley, California  (June 2026)