Ah autumn. My dearest friend as far as seasons go. I miss her warm comfort and softness during the sharp heat of summer. When the temperature starts to chill the fudge out and the trees start to turn, my heart and my breath find a more manageable and kindly rhythm. The mulberry tree in my backyard turns a really interesting chartreuse yellowy green that looks strikingly perfect when falling on a rainy day. I know it's a bit ironic that a flower farmer would look so forward to fall, when all the pretty annuals start to die, but one can appreciate the product of the heat and still love when it goes. I also love the products of fall, they just don't make me any money but they do bring me life.
The real irony or tragedy, depending on how you look at it, is that fall hasn't really fully settled in and I'm already stressed out about spring. See, this coming spring will still be year one of Thistle Hill. I started all of this in April/May, so the official end of year one will be around my first harvest of spring flowers the first week of May (if all goes well).
I've learned recently (days ago) that I have to start the seeds NOW and overwinter them. In order to do all of that professionally, I need seed trays, and seed starting mix, and a greenhouse or grow lights, a high tunnel, soil tests .... deep breath. I don't have any of that stuff, I thought to myself in a shocking high-pitched thinking voice. And I only have a few hundred dollars to work with. How in the world am I going to pull this off?
I asked God for help and got to thinking. One of my favorite gifts that the Lord has given me is my creativity. And then he had me grow up poor, which made me resourceful. Creative and resourceful is what you need in moments like this, so after the panic wore off, I started thinking, I might actually be able to do this. I bought the seeds, the seed trays, and the seed starting mix. Then some creative ideas to have something LIKE a greenhouse and then something LIKE a high tunnel. Using, of course, a lot of things I already have, I think I might be able to do this without having to pull from my own pocket.
The idea that I've been ruminating on has been that in the absence of money, you pay with sweat. You pay with elbow grease. You pay with time. What you can't spend money on requires something much more valuable and irreplaceable than money, your time and your body. Nothing wrong with that. That kind of sweat equity, that kind of investment makes you appreciate what you're making that much more. Makes you really cherish it. So, I'm going to really REALLY cherish my spring flowers
This has been the first Saturday I've spent since April, not at the farm. It rained this morning, so I enjoyed some time relaxing with snacks and a show in my cozies with my puppy. It felt really good but also really foreign. I could only do it for so long before it began to feel wrong. I can't get away with not working, it doesn't suit me. The feeling of laziness led to de-boning a whole chicken, making chicken bone broth, making a chicken skin treat for my dog, baking some chicken, doing laundry, and here I am, writing a blog post, and I'll head over to the farm in a few minutes to cut some flowers for tomorrow. So much for a lazy day, maybe I'll try again soon.
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