I’m Usually Hiding From You at This Time Each Season

We’ve hidden from you every spring for seven years. Not this time.

Some seasons come fast. We’ve lost team members to moves and to life changes, people we leaned on more than we probably realized, and then hired and trained new part-timers to fill the gap. Watching them learn this place, ask good questions, and show up with real energy has been one of the better parts of an otherwise chaotic start to the season.

What we also do, somewhat impulsively, very characteristically, is keep adding things: a second Saturday market, the Spring Flower Club, the grocery program, the farm stand. Which means the spring verb list is especially relentless: harvest, bunch, deliver, plant, seed, weed, water, monitor, compost, dig, rake, till. Repeat.

We’re already a little tired.

Spring is always our hardest season, and it always reminds us why. There are always small things: a few crates of tulips that didn’t make it, a row of strawflower lost to a frost we forgot to cover for, weeds that got ahead of us in a few areas we thought we had under control. Planning supply and successions feels like an exercise in trying to control the weather.

But we always tell people that one of the hardest things about farming is that your mistakes have already been made months ago. The fixing comes next year. You can learn and change, but the cycle of learning and changing is just so much slower in farming than in any other business we can imagine.

It’s deeply annoying and also, somehow, deeply healing. You learn to let go of what you can’t touch anymore. You get very honest about what was in your control and what wasn’t.

We’ve hidden during this window before, gone a little quiet, kept things tidy on the outside, because it’s never easy to say we’re mid-season and still finding our footing.

But the flowers right now are genuinely spectacular. The variety coming out of the field is some of the most interesting we’ve grown. Strange to be surrounded by all of it and still feel this tired. That’s spring. That’s always spring.

We’re learning, slowly, to keep showing up. If this business is going to really work, for us and for you, we have to stay present even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. Because the thing that makes these flowers different from the ones at the grocery store isn’t just where they were grown.

It’s that there are real people behind them, people who are tired and still here, still at the market on Saturday, still growing something worth showing up for.