The question I get asked more than anything else is what types of flowers do you grow? When I first started growing I would immediately launch into a long, enthusiastic list of all the flowers I grow, but soon realized that listing the names of the flowers I grow almost universally elicits a glazed over look in the listener. The reality is that even those of us who love flowers rarely learn the names of more than the most common blooms. Last season I grew more than 40 different plants and even though I spend so much of my time surrounded by flowers I meet new ones every single day. The world of flowers is a very humbling one. I love that they are constantly beckoning to us, inviting us to learn more about the plant world.

With the early bird signup for my weekly flower bouquets ending on March 31st this seems like the perfect time to introduce you to some of the beauties that those of you who are signed up for my weekly flower bouquets (aka Community Supported Agriculture or CSA shares) will be enjoying this summer. I am retiring some things that did not do so well last season, continuing to grow the blooms that have consistently been workhorses for me, and adding quite a number of flowers that I will be growing for the first time this season! I share the seasonal journey on my Facebook page and Instagram feed, so follow me there to see regular updates on what is happening on the farm this season.

Here are some of the flowers you can look forward to seeing in your CSA bouquets this season:

1. Zinnias.  Zinnias are one of my workhorses. They take a while to get going because they like it super hot, but once they get going they churn out bright, happy flowers week after week all summer long. Zinnias are cool in that the more you cut them the more they grow and bloom. The key to having constant supply is to make sure you give them good air circulation (I find they often get powdery mildew as the season goes on if there isn’t enough space between plants), feed them (I apply foliar fish fertilizer every couple of weeks all summer long to keep my plants strong) and finally cut, cut, cut. Even if you don’t need every stem, cutting deep and often will guarantee that fresh blooms keep coming. If do you do all of these things they will only start to slow when the weather cools off in the fall.

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2. Snaps (a.k.a. Snapdragons). Snaps are another workhorse for me. They get started in early to mid-July and then crank out consistently long-stemmed, bright towers of colour all summer long. Unlike the zinnias, most insects avoid them for some reason, so I rarely have leaf, bud or blossom damage, which is always a godsend. I have been told by more experienced growers that if you literally saw off your entire zinnia row once you have harvested they will grow back. Maybe it is the shortness of our season or maybe it is something I have yet to figure out but even though I cut these babies hard all season long I have yet to have a second crop from the same plant. Some growers pinch their snaps to encourage the growth of multiple stems instead of one larger, taller stem. I tend to pinch some and leave some so I have a variety of stem lengths and sizes to work with. The pinched flowers also tend to bloom slightly later so even though I have multiple successions to guarantee constant blooming all season I find pinching staggers bloom time too.

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3. Foxgloves. Also known as Digitalis because the bells can be fit over the ends of fingers like a thimble, I fell in love with foxgloves while interning at Field of Roses in New Zealand. They had lots of varieties that had re-seeded themselves and grown taller than me. I love how they are creamy and elegant on the outside but if you peek inside each of the “bells” hanging from the stem you enter a world of rich and vivid colour and texture. The leaves of the Foxglove are super soft and silky. I find that Foxgloves like consistent moisture and slightly cooler temps than we have had on Prince Edward Island the last couple of summers, so mine hung out for a good portion of the summer before finally shooting up and bursting into bloom in August. It was worth the wait as those who purchased some of these beauties from me at the farmers’ market can attest to. I’m looking forward to seeking out other varieties of these in the years to come. For an interesting read about the etymological origins of the name Foxglove, click here.

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4. Frosted Explosion. I simply love the name of this grass, and how perfectly it captures the way it literally explodes like a firework come summer. I plant and use a lot of this grass and it grows and grows and grows, all summer long. The focus in any bouquet is usually the flowers, but in its own way, Frosted Explosion is a showstopper for me, and I get lots of comments about it and how magical it looks in bouquets. You can see the dreamlike green spray from the Frosted Explosion in the arrangements below:

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5. Nigella. Also known as Love in a Mist, this flower comes in various shades of blue, pink, white and purple. The plant is very hardy, so if being direct seeded it can go in earlier than many of my other plants. It has lovely airy, star-shaped flowers but I find they shatter faster than I would like in bouquets so I mainly grow it for its seed pods, which are to die for, and add pops of colour and texture to late summer and fall bouquets that I couldn’t do without. There are a number of varieties. My favourite is Love-in-a-Mist Starry Night which is a combination of Delft Blue, Midnight and African Bride. Here is an up-close shot of a nigella seed pod, followed by a bouquet that has seed pods in it.

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6. Poppies. My relationship with poppies is an ever-evolving one, but the more I learn about these beauties the more I plant. Poppies are interesting in that they have to be harvested when they are just beginning to open and long before the flamboyant unfurled phase, which, if I am doing my job well, should happen after they get home with you in the vase. Another trick of making sure that poppies have a vase life is to singe the bottoms of the stems. I use a blow-torch, but for a smaller quantity a lighter will do the trick too. When I do this they can get a vase life of a full week before dropping their petals. I have tested out a few varieties. The ones that do best for me are Icelandic poppies, which look like whirling dervishes in arrangements. I also grow a Breadseed Rattle Poppy. It looses its petals too quickly to use in arrangements, but its enormous seed pod is a great addition to my late summer and fall bouquets.

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7. Ranunculus. I have been wanting to grow these for a while, and 2019 is my first foray into finally doing so. I have yet to find a Canadian source for Butterfly Ranunculus (my favourites, and one I will most definitely be adding to the mix at some point) but this season I am growing a few ranunculus that those signed up for my CSA are going to love. The multiple layers of fine petals in many ways remind me vaguely of small roses, and the variety of hues is truly breathtaking. This year I am growing Elegance in a range of colours including Salmone, Viola, Pastello, Bianco Sfumato and Bianco. Keep your fingers crossed for this new adventure! I cannot wait to share these with you once the weather warms! this is a photo of me holding some of Kori’s ranunculus this spring.

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8. Mums. When we hear the word Chrysanthemums in Atlantic Canada, most of us think of the humdrum bedding flowers we see in pots at Home Depot. This past fall and winter I have been volunteering at Dawn Creek Farm, owned by Kori Hargreaves. Kori is an heirloom Mum whisperer, and spending time with her has introduced me to Mums that I never could have imagined existed. I have been in search of a Canadian source for heirloom mums ever since and finally placed an order this week, so if things go well I will have a beautiful crop of fall heirloom mums to share with you this year. Below are two photos: one of me holding one of my favourite varieties (River City) at Kori’s farm and another of an arrangement I made with some of Kori’s mums.

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9. Sweet Peas. I have had a long-standing love affair with sweet peas ever since Erin at Floret introduced me to them back in 2013. Having grown up in the Mediterranean, this was not a flower I had been familiar with until then, but now that I live in a climate that is conducive to growing this vine I have been growing an increasing number and variety every year. Last year we had a very cold spring so my sweet peas really struggled to get started. I had just barely started harvesting them when it got so hot that they basically stopped growing. They did very little for the remainder of the season, but then in September as the temperature cooled they started blooming again! I had never planned on offering fall sweet peas, but this year I have two sowings planned — one in the spring and a second in the late summer. Fingers crossed you will see sweet peas in your bouquets in September as well as in June!

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There are so many other flowers that will be blooming in the garden this year, but I will share more about them in future posts. If you have any questions about the plants I have mentioned above, about my CSA, market bouquets or individual arrangements please leave me a comment below this post or send me a private message. I hope some of you will join my CSA this summer by signing up for either five or ten weeks of fresh local flowers! You can do so in the online store. Remember: Early-bird prices end on March 31st!

I have been thinking a lot about community lately. As any small business owner knows, no small business ever succeeds without considerable community support. Since moving onto the property that I currently grown on at the Mount Continuing Care Community and starting to sell at the Charlottetown Farmers’ Market my community has grown considerably, and many of the interactions I have had with my community have moved me deeply, so I want to share twelve snapshots of my red roots community from this past season.

Snapshot 1:

Last season I had one customer who purchased her Community Supported Agriculture weekly bouquets long before anyone else. Rebecca ordered four weeks of spring flowers AND twelve weeks of my summer flowers and edible flowers. When you are just getting started with a business you hope for investments like these from close friends and family. But receiving this order from someone who had, until then, been a complete stranger to me gave me faith that I will some day achieve my goal of actually being able to support myself fully growing flowers. With my mother getting sick in the late summer and my having to shut my farm operation down sooner than expected, her twelve weeks of flowers were cut short. I offered to reimburse her for the weeks I would not be able to deliver flowers, but instead she opted to receive multiple bouquets for the weeks leading up to my departure. I have been sitting here in California this winter planning out my season ahead and wondering whether I will manage get signups for my weekly bouquets this season being on the opposite side of the continent. Then the other day I received Rebecca’s order for the 2019 season. Receiving that vote of confidence from her was just what I needed to kick off a new season.

Snapshot 2:

The first time I met Iris she was standing on the edge of my flower field quietly peering down at me from the road. I asked if she needed anything and she asked if it would be alright if she came and wandered among my flowers. Of course I said that would be fine, so down she came. She wandered quietly among the flowers while I worked without interrupting my flow, and it was kind of nice to have her quiet company in the garden for a while. After that first visit Iris came by a number of more times during the season for a quick chat and to see what was in bloom. After I left to come care for my mother in September Iris sent me a note asking if it would be alright if she went and picked some flowers. Again I agreed. A few days later I received an email with photos of what she had created from my garden. A couple of weeks later I got another message from her with more photos of her arrangements. Seeing that my flowers were being enjoyed and that all my hard work was bringing the people in my community joy was the perfect wrap up to the 2018 season.

Snapshot 3:

I received an instagram message from Alistair from Australia who was looking for flowers for his girlfriend. His mum had apparently met me while I was interning at Field of Roses in New Zealand. He and his girlfriend were on Prince Edward Island because she is an islander and they were visiting her family. He wanted to give her some locally grown flowers so his mum had suggested he look me up. When he contacted me I had just left for California, so I explained that I wasn’t able to make him a bouquet, but that if he wanted to he was more than welcome to go to the farm and harvest flowers and make his girlfriend a bouquet himself. It sounded like a lot of work, so I wasn’t sure if he would do it, but a few days later I received a message from him with the following photo. His girlfriend must have loved his creation because this sweet couple are now engaged. I love that my flowers got to play a small role in their love story!

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Snapshot 4:

In September I received a message from Justine. Justine works on a farm in Quebec, but was coming to Prince Edward Island at the end of September for a family reunion event, and was writing to see if she could purchase a couple of buckets of flowers from me that she could arrange herself. Again, I had already left, so was in no position to be harvesting flowers for her, but I let her know that if she wanted to harvest flowers herself for the event she was welcome to. A few weeks later I received the following photo and a thank-you note from her. I am really happy that these fall blooms got to be a part of this family celebration.

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Snapshot 5:

When I first started growing at the Mount I didn’t know any of my neighbours. Shortly after starting to plant the neighbour right across the street from the farm came over to introduce herself and ask me what I was growing. It turned out that her name was Michelle and we had a friend in common. Throughout the season Michelle would stop by to check in on me and see how it was going. A couple of times she ordered flowers from me. Once she could see I was running low on energy so she brought me out a much appreciated glass of homemade iced tea. One of the problems on my current piece of land is a lack of storage space. I mentioned this to Michelle in conversation one day, and she offered to have me put some of my farm equipment in her shed for the summer. In exchange I took flowers over to her place once a week for the remainder of the season. Michelle went out of her way to make me feel at home in the neighbourhood, and her friendly waves on her way in or out and kind gestures of friendship made me feel welcome in my community. Unfortunately I don’t have any photos of her holding my flowers. Will have to add that to my bucket list this season!

Snapshot 6:

One hot mid-summer afternoon while I was working in the garden I had the sense that someone was standing in the pathway between flower beds next to me. Looking up I found one of the builders from the construction site on the property where I am growing looking down at me. I asked him if he needed something, and he explained that he was wondering if I would make him a bouquet of flowers for his daughter. “Right now?” I asked. “Yes” he said. I asked him if his daughter had a colour preference. He said her favourite colours were pink and purple. After a little more discussion I discovered that his daughter was seven years old, and that he was on his way to pick her up from school. I made the bouquet in the field and took it over to him. He paid and then jumped in his truck and headed off to pick her up from school with his pink and purple bouquet. The sweetness of his gesture made my day.

Snapshot 7:

This past fall I had to head to California to help support my mother who is battling pancreatic cancer before my season had ended. I left a field still blooming profusely, which was really, really hard to do after all the hard work I had put in to grow so many flowers. I know I made the right choice — family always comes first — but I didn’t have time to break down my field for the season before the snow arrived. After I got to California I started thinking about my field and the fact that I really didn’t want to leave all my netting and support rods up in the field all winter long — both because it would damage my equipment, but also because it would not be very aesthetically pleasing for my neighbours. So many people had already offered so much support to help me pack up my apartment in such a hurry that I felt terrible about having to ask for additional help, but I eventually decided to reach out anyway. I figured if it was too much to ask the person I asked could say no. The person I asked was my dear friend Stephen and he immediately agreed. He untangled all my netting from the remaining crop and rolled it up, painstakingly pulled all my support rods up out of the earth and transported all of my gear to his home where he and his wife have it stored safely for the winter. His willingness to help me in this way actually moved me to tears. When I say I couldn’t be farming without the support of my community, this is a perfect example of what I mean.

Snapshot 8:

I have one customer who I have nicknamed the Sweet Pea Lady. She has told me her name but I am terrible with names (I’m hoping that I see more of her this season so I can ask her again, and this time write it down!!). We had a very cold spring and a super late last frost, so my sweet peas, generally a late spring/early summer crop on PEI, only had a very short window to grow before the heat kicked in and growth slowed. After the initial very short burst of flowers I was no longer happy with the quality of the blooms because of the impact of the heat, so I stopped selling them at the Farmers’ Market. I did however pick one or two bunches per week to have on my table at the market for kids to smell. I always like to have something that children who visit my booth can smell. It gets them engaged with the natural world (something that is really important to me) and watching their faces light up when they inhale all that sweetness makes my day. The first week that I took my little jar of sweet peas that were only for display to the market I had a lovely woman come by the booth and bury her face in them. She emerged from the cloud of colour and sweetness glowing with delight and asked me how much I wanted for the sweet peas. I explained that they weren’t for sale, but after she explained that they reminded her of her mother I finally caved and sold them to her. The next week I brought two bunches: one for the kids to smell and one for her. She came most weeks all summer long. Every week I cautioned her that this would probably be the last week of sweet peas and every week she smiled at me and said “you said that last week.” Every week she came back, and perhaps because she did, every week when I checked the sweet peas there were always just enough still blooming through the hot, dry weather for two bunches for my table. One of the last weeks that I was at the market I asked her if she would let me take a photo of her with the sweet peas. She graciously obliged. Here is my Sweet Pea Lady. I’m really hoping to see her back at the booth this summer.

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Snapshot 9:

When I made the decision to pack up and come to California to help support my mother this past fall it meant leaving my farm, but it also meant leaving my part time English as a Second Language teaching job. A few days before I was due to leave, my boss Judy handed me a sheet of paper with a list of twenty flower bouquet orders on it. Out of a desire to be supportive of my having to give up my job and the accompanying salary my colleagues had all ordered bouquets to help me sell some of the flowers that were still in the field before I left. Their support and encouragement both before I left and while I have been on the west coast has been unwavering. I will never forget the surprise flower order that they placed, and the vote of confidence that they gave me.

Snapshot 10:

Operating a booth outside at the Charlottetown Farmers’ Market means having a tent to set my table up under. I managed to purchase a tent from my friends Lorna and Brian, but the tent is a heavy unfolding contraption that is impossible to set up alone. This past season my dear friend Claude offered to help me set up every week. I would pick her up on my way to the market, we would set up the tent together, and then she would do her weekly market shop. It only took a few minutes, but knowing that I had her support took a huge amount of stress off my shoulders every Saturday morning. Claude doesn’t have a car (or a driver’s license), so once she went home from the market with all of her groceries I did not expect her to return. But every week that I sold at the market this past season, without fail, Claude walked back to the market to help me break down my booth and pack it into the car. Sometimes she would even manage the booth for while I ran inside for a bite to eat. I’m not sure if she realizes what a life-saver she was, but I wouldn’t have gotten through my first market season without her. Here is Claude being the boss lady that she is at my flower booth last season:

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Snapshot 11:

Lorna and Brian had a permanent booth indoors at the Farmers’ Market until this past season. They farmed; they cooked; she wove; they pickled….they are exceptionally talented human beings. When I needed to buy a tent, I bought one from them. When I ran out of space to plant things at the farm Lorna took my extra seedlings and planted them at their farm. And when i needed somewhere to dry my flowers Lorna offered their barn. I had not managed to harvest all of the drying flowers before I left this past fall and so Lorna, in her endlessly generous way, offered to harvest what was left for me and add it to what was already drying in the barn. Lorna and Brian cheered me on through the season and were always available to offer suggestions or support. Their encouragement and support are another example of why I am farming today.

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Snapshot 12:

Because I headed to California in mid-September I had to stop selling at the Charlottetown Farmers’ Market before the season ended. My community knew why I was cutting the season short, and so my last Saturday at the market customers turned out in droves to purchase flowers. I had so many people come to buy flowers that Saturday in fact that I sold out before noon and spent the last two hours of the market sitting at an empty table awkwardly smiling at customers who I had nothing to sell to. Not that I’m complaining!

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Photo by Dave Alex

 

I have many more stories about the ways in which my community supported my fledgling flower farm this past season, but those will have to be shared in a future post. Suffice it to say that the reason why I named my farm Red Roots Flower Farm is because it wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for the unwavering support of my community. Do you have any stories about ways that Red Roots flowers have contributed something positive to your life this past season? I’d love to hear your story in the comments section below this post. Thanks so much for reading friends!

I won’t lie — it has been an incredibly challenging week on the farm. Just like every profession, there are times when the sun shines just enough and the rain falls in perfect amounts and the flowers look happy and healthy and I feel incredibly blessed to be doing something so beautiful with my life…..and then there are times when I find myself wondering if I am really cut out for this calling after all. This week I asked myself many times over if I am going to make it as a farmer. I still don’t have a definite answer.

This spring on Prince Edward Island has been very long and very cold. We had frost after what was supposed to be the last frost date, and after many days in the teens and 20s. The temperature has been up in the double digits and then plummeting down to almost freezing on and off for weeks. Those of you who have been following me on Facebook will have seen my dollar store plastic cup TLC strategy — going up the field in the evening and covering each sweet pea plant with a cup and burying it in soil, returning in the morning to pull the cups up again, and then back to the field in the evening to put all the sweet peas back under their little plastic domes. Miraculously, in total I only lost four plants. The others are all finally starting to climb their trellis, and I am really looking forward to being able to share some gorgeous sweet peas with you in the coming weeks.

Due to the crazy weather and heavy rains I had to delay tilling the field later than usual this year too. I finally got my first babies transplanted on June 18th. The rest of the crop went in between the 19th and 25th. This week we have had a lot of heat followed by lots of rain, and my zinnias and now many other flowers on the field have started getting attacked by what looks like earwigs. This afternoon I went around the field setting homemade earwig traps — jars filled with vegetable oil and soy sauce. Apparently earwigs are nocturnal, which would be why I have not seen any of them on my plants when I am in the field. They have been shredding my seedlings, which has been very hard to watch. Initially not being sure what was causing the damage, I sprayed my plants with fish fertilizer to help strengthen them, and tried a number of other home remedies. Unfortunately nothing has worked so far, so when it was suggested to me that it might be earwigs I decided to set some traps and see if I make any progress. I will go back tomorrow to see what I catch. I have always believed that if things are in balance insects will get what they need without wiping out what I need….but having invested significant time and energy in adding compost to my plot this spring and planting a cover crop in the fall that I tilled into the soil this spring, this week I have begun to wonder if my theory about balance was simply wrong.

Today I woke up to a torrential downpour. In general I love a heavy rainfall — both because I find it incredibly peaceful, but also because it gives me a reason to slow down and get caught up on computer work or even reading whatever my current novel is (at the moment ‘The Weight of Ink’). But today as I lay in bed looking out at the wind throwing the branches of the trees this way and that what I was thinking of was my flowers and how much stress they have been subjected to over the last couple of weeks. The more stress they have the more susceptible they are to being attacked by insects. Insects seem to just know which ones are most weakened by the weather conditions and choose those ones to feed upon.

After setting the earwig traps at the farm today I took a walk around, checking each row to see how each variety is doing. Some are doing really well — thriving really, while others have sustained a lot of insect damage — so much that I’m not sure they will recover from it. This is the first year I have had so much insect damage on so many plants. As I was walking back to my car I noticed that the two (still far too short to be blooming, but nevertheless healthy) poppies that I had noticed just starting to crack through their skins yesterday had burst open. Up close they were short-stemmed but in truth also absolutely perfect. I have them in a vase next to my computer as a type this. They make me smile every time I look up.

My farming mentor told me that you have to take time to look up when you farm. You have to find the miracles in the every day experiences on the land, and that if you don’t, you have no business farming. Some days I have to admit that I forget his advice. I am soaked and cold, or tired, or in a rush to get something done so I can get to my other job, but then a yellow-centred white poppy stops me in my path and reminds me to find the signs of hope and beauty. Today it was the poppies. A few days ago it was a robin on a power line chirping down at me as if in conversation. Farming has a way of doing this. It extends constant invitations to connect if we pay close enough attention. Have you had an invitation like this recently? I would love to hear about it in the comments section below. Have a beautiful Canada Day weekend, friends!

This month I have been ordering and beginning to receive boxes and envelopes stuffed with seeds. Seed ordering is both an exciting and overwhelming process. Exciting because I get to spend time browsing photographs of hundreds of different varieties of flowers choosing what I want to grow in the coming year, and overwhelming because there are so many gorgeous flowers out there and my farm is so humble in size that I am going to have to select just a few of these beauties to nurture and share with my customers in the coming season.

I live in Charlottetown, which is the capital of Prince Edward Island. I have often joked that perhaps I should re-name my farm Rootless Flower Farm because thus far it has not been in the same location for more than one season. The year I began growing flowers I planted everything at a community garden in Charlottetown where I had six beds. The next season I expanded to half an acre on the organic farm of some close friends in Springfield, PEI. I decided to look for opportunities to move my farming operation back into Charlottetown in 2017 because as long as I am living in town I did not like the amount of time and energy I was spending getting out to my flowers. Since most of my customers are in Charlottetown, basing my operation in town made much more sense. Through the grapevine I heard that there might be an opportunity to grow my flowers at the Mount Continuing Care Community. The Mount used to be a convent, and sits on a beautiful piece of undeveloped land right in the centre of Charlottetown. It was purchased by pharmacist and businessman Paul Jenkins a number of years ago and has been turned into a community for the elderly with the Sisters residing on the top floor.

Although the area I decided to begin planting on used to be the Sisters’ vegetable garden, it had since grassed over, so my first task was to find a creative solution to growing a small quantity of flowers while at the same time killing the grass so that I could expand production in 2018. My solution was to truck topsoil in and build my first two beds up on top of the grass. I lay enough cardboard down on the grass for two 60 foot long by 4 foot wide beds, piled the soil on top of the cardboard, added compost and a few other additions that were lacking, and then rolled my landscaping fabric out over the top to suppress weeds. I wasn’t sure if this plan was going work, but I took a leap of faith. Overall my leap worked out much better than I had hoped. Despite the super dry summer I produced a small but healthy crop of flowers in 2017 and hosted my first floral design workshop for the residents at the Mount, which was a fun and joy-filled event that I cannot wait to repeat many times over in 2018. I ploughed up the remaining area and planted my first ever cover crop of oats and field peas, which miraculously grew and thrived before dying with the frost, leaving me with a lovely ground cover for winter.

In the spring of 2018 I plan to plough up the area where the cover crop is, roll out my landscaping fabric and plant this year’s flowers. But for now I am ordering seeds, in awe of the potential within each tiny little vessel. I am feeling a mixture of unbridled joy at the beauty that lies ahead along with an equal amount of fear. Owning your own business takes a lot of courage. Running a farming business requires courage and more optimism than is probably healthy for one individual. I am not at the stage in my business where I am able to support myself solely on what I make from my flowers. I have two other jobs that take up a considerable amount of my time and energy right now. Since I am not willing to allow this to prevent me from pursuing my passion to the best of my ability, this means that my flowers fill my early mornings, evenings and weekends, and even so I often wish I could give them more undivided time and attention.

I love living on Prince Edward Island. I love the full-on intensity of the summers and how the island landscape swells with the bounty of the land and sea as well as people from all over the world who pour onto our red shores to savour the distinctive beauty this island has to offer. I love the crisp falls and the flaming collage of the foliage. I even love the cold, snowy winters, and how the weather put us in our place in the natural order of things, insisting that we slow down, reflect, and take time to connect with each other over strong cups of tea around the wood stove before we hurtle into another cold, muddy spring that is instantly forgotten when everything bursts into fullness again come summer. People often ask me why I stay here since I do not have family in the area. My immediate reaction is that I cannot imagine attempting to farm anywhere else. Farming requires a super supportive community — one where people surround you with encouragement and hold you to your commitment when the going gets tough. It also requires an investment in staying put and building life-long relationships with people and a life-long commitment to the land. I have both of these things with this place and people, so in all truth I only feel able to contemplate farming because I am here.

As I open one package of seeds after another and start lining everything up for the summer ahead, I feel excitement for all the beauty and joy that I will get to share with you this season. I am excited to share the journey with you. If you continue to read my blog you can look forward to learning about seeds, soil and rain, and nurturing, patience, colour, texture, connection, sweetness and abundance. Whether you join me by purchasing a CSA membership this spring or summer; by sending an individual bouquet to someone in need of love or healing; by picking up some of my flower greeting cards, or simply by following me on instagram or Facebook and reading my blog, I hope you will follow along this season. I love farming because it is a constant learning process, and one that is a never-ending source of humility and patience. It is also a reminder of the essential connection between each of us and everything around us from the tiniest seed to the people in our lives. I hope to use this blog as a place where I can share the learning that I am immersed in with you, and that you can ask questions, share insights and ideas, and hopefully learn new things about flowers, farming, the land and my humble efforts to build a business!

Here’s to a new year, friends! And to growing and learning together. I look forward to sharing the 2018 season with you!

For the past couple of weeks I have had a simple piece of yarn tied around my wrist. To most people it no doubt just looks like a ratty grey string. But when I look down at it I am reminded of my strength. The other day at yoga I was doing a pose that involves balancing on one leg. As I teetered there with my arms outstretched attempting to find my balance my teacher reminded the class that just as focusing the eyes on something steady in front of us helps us find steadiness in our physical balance, noticing when we are feeling unsteady internally and finding something that IS steady in our lives to focus on can bring strength and balance during times when we feel overwhelmed or uncertain about what comes next.

The past two years have felt a bit like someone is attacking me with a machete. If the losses had been physical it would have been a bit like watching as a number of what I have until now considered essential body parts were hacked away one by one. First my father passed away very unexpectedly after a brief and very aggressive battle with heart cancer. Three weeks after he passed away my best childhood friend from back home in Cyprus lost her battle to cancer, leaving her two sons with no mother. During this time I also met the man I thought was the love of my life and married him, surrounded by my friends and family, only to have him decide that I was not the love of his life after all less than a year later. After every loss I noticed myself desperately trying to adapt to losing someone I loved so deeply that it felt like a little part of myself had just died too. And while they say that trials and loss make us stronger, the immensity of the losses that I have experienced over the last two years has been so tremendous, with so little time between them for healing or processing the grief, that I started noticing an increasing sense of losing balance and pulling further and further from my centre with each wave of loss.

I have just returned from four months in New Zealand. I spent the year after all of these losses just trying to stay afloat. By the end of the year I felt so emotionally and physically exhausted that I knew that I was not going to be able to keep going without taking some time out from my normal day-to-day schedule to do something to re-fill my tank. I have always dreamt of visiting New Zealand, and for the last couple of years I have been following fellow flower farmers at Field of Roses on Instagram and wishing that there were a way that I could go learn about growing roses with them. I wrote to the owners, Zoe and Sue, and, surprisingly to me at the time, they said “yes–come ahead.” Since New Zealand is so far away from PEI, I decided that if I was going to take the time to visit I might as well take advantage of the fact that I was going to be there during what would no-doubt be a rather brutal winter on PEI and spend a few months exploring after my internship.

I will write more about my time at Field of Roses and in New Zealand in at least one if not a series of separate blog posts as it was such a transformational learning experience on so many fronts that it deserves more attention than I can give to it here without turning this post into a book. But I noticed that apart from learning about how to cultivate roses and exploring one of the most powerful countries I have ever visited, there were a few essential things that I learned about balance on this trip that I thought might resonate with others.

Back to balancing on one leg. If you had asked me what balance looks like a year ago I would have talked about what stability looked like to me on the surface: Owning my own house; a car to get me from place to place reliably; with any luck, maybe some land. About having a partner to share this journey with and possibly the bounty of giving birth to and raising children. Stable income. A combination of physical and intellectual work. All of these things can be a reflection of balance–don’t get me wrong. But my trip to New Zealand taught me that real balance happens at a much deeper level.

Shortly after I arrived in New Zealand they had a magnitude 7.8 earthquake off the east coast of Kaikoura in the South Island that ruptured 21 faults — possibly the most number of faults ever ruptured in an earthquake according to recent reports by seismologists. The earthquake was so powerful that it actually created new land areas that had been beneath the sea before they were thrust upwards during the quake. Earthquakes are nothing new to New Zealand obviously. Christchurch is still in the process of re-building after their devastating 2011 earthquake. Having grown up in Cyprus and lived for periods in California I am used to the idea of regular quakes, but being in New Zealand made me reflect more deeply on the role they play in disturbing and creating balance.

Photo by Iain McGregor

The effect of the Kaikoura earthquake was tremendous. There was widespread infrastructure damage–the coastal highway that is usually the main thoroughfare for traffic traveling south along New Zealand’s South Island was so badly damaged that anyone wanting to travel south had to take a detour through the heart of the centre of the island–a beautiful, but nevertheless more circuitous route. Communities along the north eastern coast of New Zealand are sustained by tourism, so the challenge of accessing them easily had a severe financial impact for those living there. Out of interest in what was happening beneath my feet while I was there, I often visited the website Geonet, which shows all the earthquakes happening in New Zealand every day. Today alone there have been eleven. Most of these are very mild — likely barely felt by the population. But I began to get the sense that that the ground I was hiking on was constantly shifting and moving beneath me as opposed to being an immobile source of balance and stability. If you speak with the residents of Christchurch many of them will tell you that they used to live in a great city, and that some day it may be great again. Walking around the city in 2017 and seeing construction site after constriction site; derelict and abandoned buildings and road works everywhere I looked, it is easy to understand why the residents would be feeling frustrated and even a little discouraged. When I first arrived in the city to visit my friend Pascale, whose family lost their home twice in 2011 due to quake damage, she was telling me that often she will leave home to run an errand along a particular street in the morning, but when she goes to use the same route in the afternoon it is under construction. There were a number of times when we were out that I noticed her hesitating before deciding which direction we needed to head in. When I asked her about this she explained that the last time she was on that particular street half of the buildings that I was seeing had not been there. With so much of the city being new and unfamiliar to those who have lived there their whole lives I was thinking how disorienting it must be to feel so uncertain about where you are. When you base your whole sense of direction on landmarks and they are suddenly all gone, how do you orient yourself in space?

Photo from GNS Science

My friend Pascale told me that before the Christchurch earthquake the residents were far more insular. They were less connected to their neighbours and communities and more inward-looking. The scale of the destruction caused by the 2011 quake meant that there really was nothing stable to rely on. In her neighbourhood liquefaction had even turned the streets viscous. Pascale and her family turned to the only thing that was stable — relationships with those around them — helping their neighbours and connecting to their community in any way they could. She explained to me that although the emotional impact of losing their homes is still very real for many residents, the shift in consciousness that has taken place as a direct result of having experienced so much physical loss has transformed the city into a place that is far more community-minded. Neighbours now know and support each other. I got the sense that this deep sense of mutual support and collective action may not have developed had it not been a necessity.

I am noticing that I am gradually becoming aware of what my time in New Zealand taught me since I got back to North America and embarked on the personal challenge of figuring out what comes next in my own life. Knowing that the transition back into life in North America might not be entirely smooth, my first port of call upon returning was Salt Spring Island in British Columbia.

If you have been following my adventures for a while you will know that my dear friends Ahava and Gregory live on Butterstone Farm, a sweet little farm nestled into the side of a mountain off of a dirt road among the clouds on Salt Spring Island. This visit was a special one because Ahava was celebrating her fiftieth birthday. It is hard to believe that Ahava is fifty. She looks not a day over thirty five and has far less white hair on her head than I do at thirty eight. Ahava has redefined many things for me from friendship to what love looks like to the many different ways that we take care of ourselves. This year she also redefined what fifty can look and feel like for me. I have never seen anyone so excited about turning fifty! A couple of days after arriving from Auckland her husband Gregory wisely escaped to the mainland leaving Ahava and I and 16 of her close female friends to honour and celebrate the beginning of this next chapter of her life.

The party was held in Ahava’s yoga and writing studio which stands separate from the house next to a creek and surrounded by gardens. The space has a wood floor that is perfect for dancing, and during the day is flooded with silvery light. On this particular evening the sun was setting as the guests began to arrive. The guests were women that Ahava had met all over North America through her many creative initiatives. They were all ages and came from all walks of life. Some she had danced with. Some she had written with. Some had met her at a performance that she had given. Others had worked with her on choreographing movement pieces. Her oldest friend present was a woman that she had originally moved to British Columbia with many years ago when she was first striking out on her own.

I had been a little bit uncertain about how the evening was going to go since I had not met many of these women. Ahava had asked each of us to come planning to share a little bit about how we had met her and something that we had done together that had impacted our lives in some way. While I thought this all sounded wonderful in theory I was also a little bit uncomfortable with the idea — wasn’t it going to be awkward both for her and for us to sit in a room of people and listen to everyone share what they appreciate about her?

After everyone had arrived we all settled in a circle on the studio floor. Someone pulled out a ball of yarn and Ahava explained that the person with the ball would share how they met her and share something that they had shared together or that she had brought into their life that was meaningful. When that person was done they would hold onto the end of the ball of yarn and toss the ball itself on to someone else in the circle, allowing the yarn to unfurl the distance from one person to the next, effectively weaving a slowly-spun relationship web as the ball was passed from one woman to the next.

Despite the fact that I did not know any of the women in the room when I walked in, from the minute people started sharing it was as if our common bond with Ahava made us all old friends almost instantaneously. I had assumed that that the exercise would yield many new gems about Ahava, but in truth I learned a lot of very intimate things about each and every woman present because as they shared how they had met Ahava or how she had touched their lives they also shared what they did for a living; where they came from; what their passions were; who they had loved; stories of children and parents; work and struggle; triumphs and losses.

We laughed and cried. We sang. We danced. We made collages. We stayed up talking until the wee hours of the morning. And before everyone left we cut our yarn web up and each of us tied a piece of it around our wrist. To remind us of the power of sisterhood. Of friendship. Of the strength that we have access to when we draw on our collective wisdom, determination, focus, creativity, passion, joy, grace and faith.

Right now I am staying at my mother’s house in California preparing to return to Prince Edward Island despite having no sense of where I am going to live or how I am going to support myself once I get there. I have been saying a lot of prayers about it all as well as working very hard at searching for for more stable work to help me re-gain my footing. This past week I received an email from a dear friend letting me know that if I do want to return to PEI she and her husband would love to have me as their guest for the month of April. The kindness of the invitation and the knowledge that she could tell I needed something stable from which to take my first steps out into the world as a single woman again brought tears of gratitude to my eyes. A few days ago another friend sent me a job application. On Monday another friend sent another job listing that matches up perfectly with my skill set.

When I first got back my mother was dealing with having had her home broken into and her jewellery stolen. Fortunately she was not home at the time, and was not injured, but the experience really shook her up. It is very violating to not feel safe in your home. I was relieved to hear that a number of her friends had stepped up and helped reassure and support her through that first week of living alone after the break-in until I arrived.

Last week one of my mother’s close friends fell and broke her foot. Yesterday mom and I headed over to cheer her up with a ridiculous get-well card and a box of Ginger Elizabeth chocolates. She is waiting for a ramp to be built so that she can get out of her house, and is house-bound until that happens. While we were there we helped her to feed her cats since bending over is challenging with only one functional leg.

When my yoga teacher asked us to notice what we are focused on when we feel unsteady I found myself gazing down at the reminder around my wrist, a smile playing on my lips. Circumstances will vary during our lives and across the globe. Sometimes we may lack external stability. Sometimes we may have lost that internal balance. But it does seem that one thing that is universal no matter what we are experiencing in our lives or where we are located on the planet is the common spiritual journey we’re all on together. We have each other. I can think of no greater source of strength and balance than this. And in truth, it leaves me wondering if without a constant and deep awareness of our common connection to draw upon, true balance is even possible?

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All images in this blog post belong to Christin Geall of Cultivated by Christin. They have been used with her permission. 

As you know if you read my last blog post, I left Prince Edward Island on May 18th for British Columbia. First stop was in Victoria, on Vancouver Island. A few months ago I came across a flower farmer/designer whose design work I love more and more every day. Her name is Christin Geall and her company is Cultivated by Christin. In one sentence, according to her website, Christin owns an urban flower farm and design studio in Victoria BC, and writes a literary gardening column. But it was clear to me from reading the about section of her website that there was a lot more to Christin’s story…

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Christin’s love for growing and tending plants began almost thirty years ago when she was a teen in Toronto. She apprenticed to herbalist Heidi Schmidt on the island of Martha’s Vineyard growing medicinal and culinary herbs and flowers, make teas and tinctures, and developing a nursery, as well as educating others about the healing power of plants. Christin completed a double major in Environmental Studies & Anthropology at the University of Victoria, studied ecofeminism at Schumacher College in England with Vandana Shiva, and ethnobotany with Dr. Nancy Turner in Victoria and Dr. Richard Ford in New Mexico. She also became the editor for her university’s environmental magazine. 

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At twenty-four, with a small inheritance left to her by her mother, Christin planted her first garden of her own on an acre land on a remote island on British Columbia’s coast. When she wasn’t growing, harvesting and selling the fruits of her labours she took time to travel and intern in other parts of the world. One of her internships was at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, in England. 

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After having a child and taking her first creative nonfiction class, Christin got involved in green politics and took on the editorship of a museum’s magazine. Over the course of the following ten years she got her MFA in creative nonfiction, traveled extensively, and gained spent time learning and gaining experience working with plants and in gardens wherever she went.

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Now married and back in her old stomping ground, Christin launched Cultivated by Christin in 2015 after studying floral design with Floret in Washington and Zita Elze in London. Her goal is to bring together her main loves: plants, flowers, writing and environmentalism. She also teaches two courses at her alma mater: creative nonfiction and environmental writing. 

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I reached out to Christin and arranged to visit her mini farm in Victoria the day I landed! My dear friend Ahava actually picked me up from the airport, we threw my suitcase in the back end of her station wagon and headed straight to Christin’s farm. Those of you who are familiar with Victoria will know that her neighbourhood — Oak Bay — is a maze of beautiful older houses surrounded by lush, well-tended gardens. The perfect spot for someone with a green thumb and experience with landscaping. Not being familiar with the city at all, I had no idea what to expect. Needless to say, although Christin had told me that she had an “urban” farm, I was not expecting it to be right in the middle of such a gorgeous residential neighbourhood. By the time we pulled up outside her house I was already in awe from having watched house after house slide past the window — a steady, uninterrupted flow of the type of home you see in home and garden magazines — each framed by enormous bushes and shrubs covered in blossoms and flowering vines climbing walls, spilling over fences, winding around chimneys and arching elegantly over doorways.  

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Christin’s home and business is located on a corner property. Her farm is quite literally the garden that surrounds her house. My first impression of Christin was that she is a no-nonsense, highly creative and incredibly astute business woman. It also immediately became clear that she does not shy away from hard work. She met us in the garden in her work clothes, and invited us to take a stroll around the farm with her. She has taken what, admittedly, is a relatively large yard, and utilized every square inch to create her little urban farm. Her garden is surrounded by high bushes that give it a private, secret garden feel. She has landscaped it to maximize space while at the same time creating a visually beautiful space to inhabit and work in. In the middle of the garden, in between raised flower beds she has built a trellis. She is patiently training vines to wind their way up the supporting posts to create a green canopy of shade beneath which she plans to host floral workshops. Her design space is a renovated garage — a work bench set up along one wall and a photo shoot backdrop set up in the corner. As she showed us around she described the vision that she is slowly implementing on her property over time. I could clearly envision what it will look like in a year or two. I cannot wait to see how her vision materializes.

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With the international flower movement being led by so many creative women I love seeing how different floral business owners are building their businesses to better fit their busy lives as mothers, wives, sisters, daughters and entrepreneurs. It is interesting to notice how this generation of female flower farmers and designers — for whom family is a priority — are shattering the traditional notions of what a business looks like. While recent trends in agriculture have been towards larger acreage planted with one or two main crops, so many of the women I have been meeting through my floral work are working with extremely small plots of land, planting a wide variety of plants, and finding creative ways to maximize their income by developing diverse income streams. Instead of farming in a rural area and having to ship flowers into the city, Christin has decided to grow in the heart of the neighbourhood that she is serving. Her neighbours are her target market. By building her farm within the community that is home she is able to take advantage of her location by inviting florists and customers to come to her instead of having to invest time and money in transportation and delivery. 

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My visit to Christin’s was too short. She was preparing for a trip to the Chelsea Flower Show (you can read about her experience here) and needed to pack, and Ahava and I had a ferry to catch. Her vision and enthusiasm was so infectious that all I really wanted to do was pull on my rubber boots and help her. I also really wanted to have the chance to watch her design because I am a big fan of her romantic aesthetic. Her floral arrangements use foliage to add a weightless, graceful flow to her designs. I am not entirely sure how she does it, but the light always seems to be dancing lightly through the petals. Whether using vibrant hues or a paler pastel palette, her bouquets combine a diversity of texture and shape that I love. They make me feel as though I have stepped back in time into a historical fiction novel taking place in Europe in the mid 1800s to early 1900s. At the same time there is a timelessness to her work that defies any attempt to place it within a particular era.

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I left Christin’s reluctantly, with a silent promise to myself to return at some point. I hope to have the opportunity to work on something with her in the future. In the meantime I continue to follow her on instagram and be inspired by her columns and blog posts. If you live in Victoria I highly recommend ordering flowers from her for your next special event. Or just treating yourself to a garden bouquet. If you are a florist this is one woman you need to add to your speed dial. You won’t regret it! Thanks so much for welcoming me to your farm Christin! I hope this second season is a terrific one for you! I look forward to watching your vision unfold, and very much hope that we find an opportunity for creative collaboration in the future!

I am in Sacramento, California, and it is currently 39 degrees celsius outside. Don’t ask me what that is in Fahrenheit. I don’t do conversions. The important thing is that it is hot as hell. Fry an egg on the asphalt hot. Yesterday I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a sweater and boots, and today the paper thin sundress and sandals feel like too much.

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If you read my first blog post you will know that I have just begun what I hope will be a year-long flower journey. What that means in human speak is that I am taking time away from my own flower farming this season to learn from my fellow flower farmers and designers around the world. When I am not on round the world journeys, I call Prince Edward Island home. If you do not know where that is, you are not alone. It is actually Canada’s smallest province, and I am always surprised at how many Canadians have no idea where it is. It is a small island located off the east coast of Canada in what we call Atlantic Canada. Geographically it is just off the coast from New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. North of Maine.

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I moved to Prince Edward Island in 2004 to do my Master’s degree in Island Studies. Usually when I tell people that I have a Master’s degree in Island Studies they stare at me blankly. There are lots of cool things you can study about islands. I chose to focus my graduate studies research on sustainable agriculture and fisheries on islands. In other words I got to study and interview some of the most incredible island farmers and fishers about their farming and fishing practices. Islands are fascinating places. Many of the things that happen on islands happens on larger land masses as well, but on islands the effects of many decisions are more immediately felt because they are so small, and resources are much more limited. The interconnectedness between systems is also more clearly visible on islands than it is in larger places. They also have extremely fascinating cultures, language particularities, and usually have a rich history because many islands have been conquered by one power after another in their lifetime.

When I was a child my family moved to the Mediterranean island of Cyprus from the United States. We stayed for 16 years, so I call Cyprus home. My father’s ancestors are from the Italian island of Sicily. I have been fascinated by islands since I was a child, and the more I study them and explore them the more interesting I find them.

But back to the flowers! I graduated with my Master’s degree in 2008. I had not intended on remaining on Prince Edward Island, but in the process of interviewing farmers I realized that farmers are inspiring, empowered and incredibly creative problem solvers. My friendships with the farmers I interviewed led me to get a job with Raymond Loo, an organic farmer on Prince Edward Island who was actively farming and re-shaping the industry by finding and developing new markets for organic produce. I worked with Raymond for two years growing fruit and veggies, and helping him to develop his marketing strategy. Between 2008 and 2014 I had many different farming experiences on a diversity of farms — mostly growing food. In 2014 while surfing the internet I came across something I had never heard of before: flower farming. The website I landed on that day turned out to be none other than Erin Benzakein of Floret Flower Farm. Fascinated by the idea of growing flowers as a cash crop, I started following her blog. Shortly after that I heard that Erin was hosting a flower workshop in Philadelphia with her colleague and fellow flower lover Jennie Love of Love ‘n’ Fresh Flowers. Knowing almost nothing about growing flowers, I registered for the workshop, and dove in at the deep end, immersing myself in the world of flowers surrounded by a crew of experienced growers and designers.

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I had no idea when I decided to register for that initial workshop what I was getting myself into, but I do believe in following my intuition, and that was what it was telling me to do, so I went for it. I was in WAY over my head that weekend. As we toured Jennie Love’s fields and she shared about all the different varieties and growing methods I tried to say as little as possible because I was utterly lost, and didn’t want anyone else to know just how little I knew about flowers.

Fortunately feeling lost did not prevent me from realizing that I LOVED what I was experiencing and the company of the community of (in this case) female farmers and designers that are leading the re-birth of the American local flower industry.

I returned to Prince Edward Island that fall, ordered way too many seeds that winter, and planted 25 trays of seeds that I germinated in my attic that spring. I rented six garden plots in a new community garden that was being developed that year, transplanted all of my babies out into my plots, and learned a tonne about growing flowers. I also started a small CSA with a handful of customers that I supplied with fresh local mixed bouquets and edible flowers for the season.

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In 2015 I decided I wanted to scale up, so I gave my farm a name — Red Roots Flower Farm (inspired by the red soil of Prince Edward Island), registered my business, and rented about 1/2 acre of land from friends that own an organic farm. With help from my friends, I ploughed up eleven 300 foot long, 4-foot wide beds, and covered half of them in landscaping fabric that I burned holes in to suppress the weeds. My second season was more successful than I had bargained for. I succeeded in producing a massive quantity of flowers. Too massive. I ran my CSA for the second season in a row, had a growing number of individual bouquet orders, dried hundreds of stems that I used to host a successful dry flower wreath-making workshop this past winter, and made flower confetti for weddings, but I still had a lot of flowers that I just didn’t have the time to sell. Lesson learned. Just because I can grow 1/2 acre doesn’t mean I should. I expect I will grow 1/2 acre again some day, but next season I will scale back to 1/4 acre — at least until I have field help. Doing all the field work and the marketing and deliveries on my own was a little bit too much to keep up with and succeed on all fronts. You have to make choices when you are working alone.

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After a number of unexpected personal losses in the fall and winter of 2015, I decided that I needed to refuel, and that I was also at the point where I could really benefit from learning with and from some other flower farmers and designers. Taking time away from my own venture felt scary, but I realized that the further I got with my own business the harder it would be to take time away to work with others, so I decided to take the risk and commit to one full year of learning with and from others before I take my next step.

I packed up my belongings and put them in storage, got rid of most of my furniture, and kicked off my year of learning May 18th. This blog will be where I share with you what I am learning along the way. If you have any questions for me or any of the farmers or designers I am visiting, please let me know, and I will make sure to get answers!

So far I have visited three farms. I stopped at Cultivated by Christin in Victoria, BC. On Salt Spring Island I visited the lovely Molly at Bullock Lake Farm. And this past weekend I spent three days immersed in flower growing, designing, marketing and networking at a Floret Workshop in Washington with the woman who inspired this crazy journey — Erin.

In my next blog post I will share my experiences at Cultivated by Christin and Bullock Lake Farm. The post after that will be all about my magical weekend at Floret Flower Farm. I have just landed in Sacramento, California, where I am visiting my mom and hope to connect with a number of growers and designers. In July I am planning to head to Michigan to spend a few months learning from Jennifer at Bloom Floral Design. And in November I am very excited to be heading to New Zealand to be immersed in the world of Roses with Zoe at Field of Roses on the North Island.

I am calling this blog ‘Where the Flowers Are’ because I have realized this year that home is where my heart is, and my heart keeps leading me to flower fields. If you are interested in flowers, travel, tea, culture, colour, texture, adventure and pursuing dreams, and want to follow along this year, this is where you can do it. I invite you to join me on my flower learning trail, ask questions about methods, varieties, the places I am visiting, and anything else you are curious about along the way. I am aiming for three blog posts a week. You can support me by keeping me accountable. If I start slipping with blog posts I give you permission to give me hell!

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Join me for my next Where the Flowers Are post on Thursday. You can also find me on instagram at @flowerconnection or search the hashtag #wheretheflowersare See you Thursday!