First off, if you’ve been following along so far, thank you for being here! I’m a bit behind on updates after being ill for a week+. (‘tis the season.) On the bright side, January is over (that always feels like the longest month, for me), the days are getting longer, and it feels like spring isn’t too far off.

We’re now in week six: the grow calendar is complete, the last of our seeds (started later) have been ordered, and roughly 2,400 lisianthus and 1,000 eucalyptus are growing well in our basement grow room. The lisianthus have only just put on a second set of leaves and are still teeny tiny, so those won’t be potted up for another month or so. The eucalyptus, which I seeded heavily because I wasn’t sure of germination rates (having purchased them in 2022), will need to be transplanted soon. (Some cells have as many as 10 tiny seedlings growing in them!) Safe to say, I will definitely have extra seedlings to sell this spring.

In the midst of seed starting and planning for the season ahead, there is plenty of “rumination” happening at this time of year. I tend to spend a lot of time thinking about what worked and what didn’t, and often it’s what didn’t work that gets me most excited, because I know there is opportunity to improve something. I’ve been thinking a lot about this past season. Due to some health issues, I was forced to slow down. I harvested as little as possible (about twice a week), and discovered that not much happened as a result. I cut flowers when I needed to, not when I thought I needed to (which, in previous years, sometimes meant every day). I did a few rounds of low-stress deadheading and weeding every week. I didn’t feel the need to cut every flower out in the garden and dry it or press it or worry about selling it. The plants didn’t go to seed and, in fact, they flourished, and so did the bee population. There were more bees here this past summer than any other, which was really wonderful to see (and hear).

Despite the physical constraints of the summer, I have to admit - it was the most enjoyable season yet. I took on less subscribers than in previous years (at least for the summer; spring had a record high of almost 60 subscribers!), I harvested less and MOST IMPORTANTLY - I grew less varieties. Yes! Less varieties. This was key. And leads me to the next topic:

Less is more - in flower farming, too

All the flower farming advice out there tells us to start small, grow a few “easy” varieties. (If I had taken that advice I’d have been in real trouble that first year; my zinnias were awful!) Whether it’s my “go big or go home” mentality or the fact that I started a physically-demanding business at the age of 40, I didn’t take that advice. I wanted to know, sooner rather than later, what grew well in our environment, and what was worth the time, labour and cost. If you peruse the Johnny’s Selected Seed flower section and choose a random plant there’s a good chance I’ve tried it. Was it overwhelming, the first few years? Absolutely. What have I learned? I’ve learned that I don’t need to grow ALL the flowers and, in fact, they’re not all worthy of the hype (or the additional cost).

My biggest takeway from 2024 was that simple bouquets, with (ideally) less than five ingredients are far more impressive than the ones packed full of everything from the garden. (Guilty)

The best critique I’ve ever received? That my bouquets were a bit of a “mess.” Ouch. I can’t lie: that one stung, but after the initial hurt I realized the person was absolutely right. I had equated quality with quantity. This was a mistake. More of anything is not usually a good thing, but because I was growing so much variety, I felt the pressing need to use as much of it as possible, to ensure the customer saw the value in the product. More was better, wasn’t it? Turns out, not so much.

That one critique of my bouquets is perhaps the best advice (intended or not) that I could have ever received. It set me on a path that was much more linear in nature. I didn’t have to go off the beaten path to be original. I could stop complicating the process, approach flower farming with a more well-intentioned (but simple) plan, and still have room for creativity. Simplicity had become a guiding force in my personal ife, but I’d forgotten those principles in my own business.

In 2024, bouquet making became an enjoyable thing rather than a stressful thing, because the process was suddenly made simpler. Less varieties meant less stress, less time harvesting, and more focus on a simpler palette/design. The pressure was off. The ingredients were plentiful, but limited in variety. Bouquets came together in record time, and they are my favourites of the past five seasons. That’s not to say there’s not room for improvement (I’m still working on my design skills!), but simplifying the process has changed the way I look at flower farming, going forward.

Flower farming (and farming in general) is tough work - there’s no arguing that. It takes resilience, grit and a ton of hard work. It also takes a willingness to admit when things aren’t working, and an open mind in finding other ways to approach the process. Most importantly, it takes endless amounts of hope that everything will eventually work out. (And it always does, one way or another.)

Here’s to making life simpler, in every way possible.

Liisa