Dispatch from the Farm: Looking Back Before Summer Begins

It's been about a month since my last Dispatch from the Farm, and when I finally sat down to write tonight, I realized just how much life has happened in such a short time.

Mother's Day weekend kicked off one of the busiest and most rewarding seasons we've had yet. Even though the rain tried its best to keep people away, our little flower stand was filled with smiling faces, beautiful blooms, and local vendors who made the day feel like a celebration of our community. Standing there watching families choose flowers for the mothers, grandmothers, and special women in their lives reminded me why I started this farm in the first place.

Not long after, I took the afternoon to visit the lilac festival at the Harvard Arboretum. As flower growers, we spend so much time planting, weeding, harvesting, and planning the next season that we sometimes forget to simply stop and admire the beauty around us. Walking through those incredible collections of lilacs reminded me that flowers have a way of connecting generations. They inspire us, comfort us, and quietly remind us to slow down.

Then came one of the most meaningful moments of my life—my son's wedding.

I've designed flowers for many weddings over the years, but creating them for your own child was something entirely different. Every bouquet, every centerpiece, every stem carried a little more meaning. Watching him marry the love of his life, surrounded by flowers we created together as a family, is a memory I'll treasure forever.

Back on the farm, nature reminded me that it always has the final say.

Our peonies arrived with their usual breathtaking beauty, and just as quickly, they were gone. Their season is always brief, which somehow makes me appreciate them even more.

At the same time, we found ourselves battling aphids. They devastated our sweet peas—one of my favorite flowers to grow—and now we're keeping a close eye on the lilies as they begin to bloom. Farming has a way of keeping you humble. Just when you think you've figured things out, nature reminds you that every season brings new challenges and new lessons.

Despite those challenges, the field keeps moving forward.

More seeds are finding their way into the ground.

The stand continues to be stocked with fresh flowers.

Workshops are filling.

Weddings are being booked.

Prom season kept us busy, and now we're looking ahead to summer bouquets, when the field truly begins to shine.

During all of this I also received the quote for the barn I've dreamed about for so long.

I'll be honest—it was discouraging.

The vision is still there. I can picture exactly what that space would mean for this little farm and for all of you who visit. But seeing the cost on paper made me pause.

Then, a few nights ago, something unexpected happened.

I heard the familiar sound of the local air ambulance flying overhead.

For just a moment, I wasn't standing in the flower field anymore.

I was back in dispatch.

Three years ago I was answering emergency calls, listening carefully, helping people through some of the hardest moments they would ever experience. That career shaped who I am, and I'll always be grateful for it.

Today my days are filled with planting, harvesting, arranging bouquets, welcoming visitors to the stand, hosting workshops, and helping couples celebrate some of the happiest moments of their lives.

It's a different kind of service.

A different kind of purpose.

And one I'm incredibly grateful for.

Then I reminded myself of something.

This farm didn't begin with a barn.

It began with a pallet table on the side of the road.

Every raised bed.

Every flower row.

Every bouquet.

Every workshop.

Every wedding.

Every blog.

Every podcast.

Every customer who has stopped at the stand.

Every piece of this farm has been built with patience, one step at a time.

Maybe that's the lesson I needed this week.

Dreams don't have to happen all at once.

Sometimes they're built slowly, season by season, bloom by bloom.

This little farm has never just been about flowers.

It's about community.

It's about slowing down.

It's about finding beauty in ordinary days and celebrating life's biggest moments together.

Whether you've visited the stand once or you've been here since that little pallet table on the side of the road, thank you for being part of this story.

Your support, your kind words, your visits to the stand, your trust with weddings and workshops, your messages, and simply taking the time to read these words are all I need to keep planting, keep dreaming, and keep sharing this journey with you.

The barn will come when the time is right.

Until then, I'll keep planting.

I'll keep growing.

And I'll keep sharing the journey—one bloom, one season, and one story at a time.

Until next time… I'll see you in the field. 🌿