The Beauty of the Quiet Season...

This season was beautiful. It was also messy. Emotional. Hard. Hope-filled. A year that asked me to dig a little deeper than I ever expected.

The summer was hot — the kind of heat that tests every ounce of patience in the field. And life outside the farm wasn’t easy either. I faced heartbreak this year — saying goodbye to a close friend far too soon. That loss shook me, and made the quiet moments on the farm feel even quieter.

But here’s what I learned:

Even in grief, you showed up. With kindness. With check-ins. With small gestures that whispered, “You’re not alone.” That is something I will never forget.

And through it all — the joyful highs and the gut-punch lows — this community kept this little dream growing.

You came to the stand on scorching summer days. You chose bouquets for celebration and for comfort. You filled workshops with laughter, creativity, and connection.

Some seasons also ask us to grow quietly — without applause, without recognition — and still keep showing up with love. This was one of those seasons. And still… you showed up.

And we still share one more special workshop — at the cozy Westminster Café. Its owner, a dear friend, opened her doors so this community could continue to gather even as the cold rolled in. That generosity means more to me than words can hold.

Because in all of these moments, I remembered this truth:

The heart of this farm doesn’t beat for attention —it beats because of community.

Tulip subscriptions — sold out

A stand that continues to grow in offerings and charm

Flowers woven into life’s most meaningful moments

Subscriptions blooming into 2026

Workshops overflowing with joy and connection

But the moment that stays with me most wasn’t a milestone.

It was a quiet afternoon the other day — a snowy walk through the sleeping flower field with my husband.

We wandered the resting rows, remembering every bloom that once filled them. The silence felt like a deep breath… but the farm wasn’t still at all.

There were fresh animal prints crossing the field — gentle reminders that life moves quietly beneath the surface.

Nature reminding us that this place is still full of wonder.

And then — because my heart needed a spark of joy — I grabbed the sled and went flying down the hill, laughing as he cheered me on. He is the steady rock of this farm — behind every late night, every muddy boot, every bloom.

The field may look empty now…but I know better. It’s resting. Healing. Dreaming of color.

And in my own way…so am I.

As the year winds down, I’m finishing the last wreaths and centerpieces — the final creations that will bring beauty into your homes and holiday gatherings. One more workshop to bring us together… and then a short winter pause to rest, to plan, to exhale.

I’ll meet you again after the New Year.

Until then, this is what I’m holding close:

There is beauty even in the quiet seasons —and flowers always find their way back.

Wishing you peace, joy, and the warmest Happy Holidaysfrom our little farm to your home.

With love & gratitude,

Kelly