Backyard Garden Planning: What I’m Growing for Profit vs. Passion
I made the ultimate mistake as a grower.
The taboo topic.
The garden sin.
The soil-shaking, seed-shaming secret.
I didn’t start my garden based on what I like to eat.
I started it based on what I thought would make money.
A vibrant yellow zucchini blossom opens wide beneath the morning light, surrounded by oversized green leaves with visible texture and slight pest nibbling at the edges. The flower emerges from rich, dark soil in a home garden bed, signaling the beginning of fruit development on a healthy zucchini plant.
Now hear me out.
Yes, I love vegetables. Raw, steamed, fried, roasted—you name it. I used to work in kitchens back in college, so I’ll eat pretty much anything from the dirt to the dinner plate.
So in theory, any “cash crop” would still end up on mine.
But I didn’t build my garden with the mindset of feeding my family. Not at first. That’s a beautiful bonus, don’t get me wrong, but the main goal was to learn the ins and outs of the crops that would eventually put some money in my pocket.
I wanted to practice growing crops that mattered in the market garden world.
What Even Is a Cash Crop?
In short: crops you grow to sell.
In market gardening, cash crops are usually quick-turnover vegetables, fruits, or flowers sold directly to customers (farmers markets or CSAs) or wholesale to restaurants.
Before I ever touched a shovel, I was learning.
One video that shaped my garden layout came from the Market Gardener Institute—thanks, Jean-Martin Fortier.
It was titled:
“15 MOST PROFITABLE Crops for Small Farms & Market Gardens.”
The list?
Lettuce
Peppers
Tomatoes
Spinach
Beets
Radishes
Arugula
Carrots
Hakurei Turnips
Green Beans
Cucumbers
Garlic
Cherry Tomatoes
Salad Mix
Armed with that knowledge, I built out my entire garden plan around those crops.
But Here’s the Trade-Off...
Some of those vegetables? I don’t even like.
Take beets, for example.
Never cared for them. Still don’t. But once I saw them on that list? I marched right over to Botanical Interests and ordered “Golden Boy Beet” seeds.
It’s a give-and-take kind of decision:
I’m giving up valuable bed space now to gain experience and knowledge that can fill my pockets later.
And honestly, I’m cool with that. But I’ll also say this—
If you’re starting a garden for fun, for healing, or to cut down your grocery bill?
Grow what you eat.
There’s no joy in letting your hard-earned harvest rot in the crisper drawer.
Before I could figure out what to plant, I had to figure out why I was planting anything at all. It wasn’t just about saving money or filling up garden beds—it was about reclaiming a sense of purpose, reconnecting with the land, and learning how to provide for myself in a real, tangible way.
If you're new here or just joining the journey, I broke all of that down in my first blog post: “So I’m Starting an Urban Farm in My Backyard”. That’s where the seed was planted—literally and figuratively.
Highlights from My Garden This Year
Lettuce
Young heads of Buttercrunch and Red Ruby lettuce grow alongside white onion sprouts in a bed layered with leaf mulch. The staggered sizes of the lettuce hint at ongoing succession planting—an intentional strategy to ensure continuous harvests. This close-up captures both the vibrant color and practical technique behind a healthy, no-till backyard garden.
This is a beginner-friendly MVP.
Most varieties hit maturity in 40–60 days, so it’s great for fast harvests and learning cycles.
I used lettuce to teach myself succession planting—the art of planting new crops at staggered intervals to ensure a constant harvest.
It always felt confusing to me, so I picked a crop that grows quickly and forgives mistakes.
My rhythm:
First tray in early February
Second tray two weeks later
Third tray two weeks after that
Still learning. Still growing. But now I’m seeing how succession planting works in real life.
Peppers
I grew peppers last year, so this crop wasn’t brand new—but this year I went in.
Bell
Cayenne
Poblano
Habanero
Thai Dragon Chili
Shishito
Banana
Each variety brings something unique. Some for salsa, some for drying, some for heat therapy.
But beyond flavor, I wanted to see how my pepper maintenance knowledge holds up in the field.
Snap Peas
This year’s winner.
Zach’s Favorite Vegetable Award: Snap Peas.
They’re sweet, crunchy, and easy to snack on while walking the garden. I grew the Dwarf Gray Sugar Pea—compact, with beautiful flowers before fruiting.
I chose them because they’re simple to trellis (a big planning concern for me), and they’ve given me my favorite garden moment so far:
Walking outside, grabbing a pod off the vine, and crunching it while the sun rises.
Problems in the Plot
Carrots
The first carrot I ever grew was by accident. No lie.
It was October, I was cleaning up the garden, and for months I thought it was a pepper plant. Something told me to rip it out—and boom. Three healthy carrots.
This year, I had to prove it wasn’t beginner’s luck.
The issue? Spacing.
Carrot greens bursting through the mulch in a backyard no-till garden bed—lush, but packed too tightly. This photo highlights one of the most common beginner mistakes: poor spacing. While the foliage looks healthy, the overcrowding could impact root development and yield. A real-time lesson in planting with intention.
I may have gotten a little carried away with my carrots.
Right now, I’ve got six different varieties growing side-by-side in the same bed:
Imperator 58 (68–75 days)
Rainbow Blend (60–80 days)
Tendersweet (75 days)
Royal Chantenay (70 days)
Bambino (60 days)
Scarlet Nantes (65 days)
All of them are technically spaced 9 inches apart…but you wouldn’t know that from the photo.
What happened?
Let’s call it a case of overenthusiastic direct sowing. I broadcast more seeds than I should have and put off thinning until way too late.
Thinning: is the process of gently removing extra seedlings to give the healthiest plants enough space to grow properly.
No one likes playing garden grim reaper, but it’s necessary.
I’ve tried thinning them back, but I’m not confident I’ll get a full harvest this summer. Thinking I’ll try again in the fall with better planning.
Garlic
I planted mine in February. Thought it would be fine.
But nature had other plans.
This spring was soaked. Pittsburgh got hit with nonstop rain, and garlic doesn’t love wet feet. I started seeing:
Yellowing
Soft stems
Droopiness
Tried to let them push through… but they were done. I pulled them and replaced the bed with nasturtium and marigolds—a soft little funeral for my garlic dreams. 🕯️
So... What Are You Growing?
At the time I’m writing this, there’s still enough season left for a solid fall harvest.
So I’ll ask you this:
What’s your ‘ride or die’ veggie?
The one you always make room for?
The one you’ll fight a squirrel over?
Drop it in the comments. Who knows—maybe it’ll end up in one of my beds next.
