Looking back on 2022, my first season growing cut flowers, I can hardly wrap my head around it. When I take a quiet moment to reflect on everything that has happened this past year and think about all the new opportunities and boundless blessings, I have a hard time believing any of it really happened. Especially when I look out the window now and see a flat blanket of snow where tens of thousands of flowers were blooming just a couple months ago. Last year, if you were to tell me that this was even an option for my life, I probably would have laughed! But it turned out that growing a field of flowers is an unearthed passion. And it’s the beginning of this new part of my story.
It’s not that I have a hard time believing everything that came with this past year is because I didn’t work for it. I did. I worked like I never have before. And I have years of really hard work under my belt. I worked physically until my body felt like it was going to break. I worked mentally trying to plan crops I was unfamiliar with while shouldering the doubt of success in blindly trusting what I had read or heard. My spirit was worked into the ground (literally) falling in love with what I was doing and trying to juggle the acceptance that I was less present to my loved ones.
But no matter how much I pushed myself, and how hard I worked, I always had more left to give. I know that this year was just the start of it all. And that every day after this will require more and more from me. That’s the beautiful thing about finding something you love like this. The more you put into it, the more you get back, and the more you have left to give again. The hardest part is finding room in a busy life to know what you want to pour yourself into.
I don’t have good advice in finding that room. For me, it was almost an accident. I’m sure that years from now I’ll look back and everything will align and make perfect sense. Maybe then, I’ll have some sort of profound piece of wisdom. But right now, all I have is a picture I took when John and I were looking at this property for the first time with a caption that reads
“I spy with my little eye …. A beautiful place to plant a flower garden, just beyond the trees.”
We hadn’t made an offer on the house or even reached out to the realtor yet. My heart wasn’t thrown into a whirlwind of dreams for flowers, it was just a small thought looking out over a grassy opening surrounded by aspens and mountains.
While we were going through the buying process of our home and having our offer denied with one acceptance and two backups in front of ours, I was still playing with the idea of moving up North and I looking into opening a florist’s shop. The area has so many beautiful places for wedding and celebrations, but very few floral options. Without any experience in floral design, I thought that no matter where we lived I could still grow some of my own flowers to save some money and learn design before making a big investment in a business. The thought of a flower farm was still nowhere to be found on my radar.
My mother-in-law told me about Floret’s online workshop and after looking into it and missing the scholarship application period I was on the fence because of the financial investment. By some miracle, the three offers on our house backed out and we closed on our new home. A couple weeks later when enrollment opened up, I bit the bullet and signed up! It turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.
When classes finally started in January I was, and still am, working full-time as an event planner and operations manager for a sizable chamber of commerce outside of Spokane. It was a bit to juggle, but I took the classes on weekends and worked on the farm planning during the evenings. It was only two weeks into the workshop that I knew flower farming was my calling.
Once the workshop concluded, those hours were replaced, and increased, with sowing seeds. When propagation was well underway John helped me with the endless weeks of field prep. After the irrigation and fabric were down, I spent hours every day moving trays outside and then back inside to harden them off before planting out. I propagated all of my seeds in a spare bedroom. It wasn’t until everything was in the ground that there was a little time to breathe before the first wave of sweet peas exploded. After that, there were flowers to harvest every day through the end of the season.
It was magic.
Every morning before work I would walk through the rows of flowers, learning our pollinator’s schedules and finding patience in nature’s pace. We had a freak winter storm in the middle of July that took out almost a quarter of the flower crop, but the ones that survived caught up as soon as the weather turned. Almost everything catches up in nature if you let it.
These past twelve months feel like a blur, but there were moments before bed and in the early morning where I would slow myself down and read. Sometimes I’d come across a quote that I’d fall in love with and I’d tuck it away in my phone. These were some of my favorites.
“Belonging so fully to yourself that you’re willing to stand alone is a wilderness – an untamed, unpredictable place of solitude and searching. It is a place as dangerous as it is breathtaking, a place as sought after as it is feared. The wilderness can often feel unholy because we can’t control it, or what people think about our choice to of whether to venture into that vastness or not. But it turns out to be the place of true belonging, and it’s the bravest and most sacred place you will ever stand.” ~ Brené Brown
“I promise if you keep searching for everything beautiful in this world you will eventually become. ” ~ Tyler Kent White
“People who live their creative passion live in the uncertainty of the outcome of what they create. And they’re fulfilled by the mere act of producing something despite that uncertainty.” ~ Ana Degenaar
Here are some highlights from this past year that have felt like victories. No matter how subtle and in no particular order.
Sharing my rows of flowers with some of my beloved friends who lost their daughter this spring. If all I ever get from growing flowers is the chance for them to see Fallon Rowe in the blooms, I’ll grow flowers forever.
Breaking ground for North Star. A lot of the physical breaking of the ground was thanks to John. And the tiller attachment we picked up for the tractor! I planned on tilling by hand which would have been near impossible with our clay soil and the huge land area.
Providing floral pieces for a friend’s wedding! I’ve never been so nervous in my life.
Finding the courage to follow a dream no matter how loud the roar of self-doubt was most days.
Donating field bouquets to our local elementary to celebrate teachers during their first week of school
Sharing fresh bouquets of flowers with my family.
Learning to pivot when there’s a killing winter storm in summer, a herd of cows in the field, or fungus spreading through crops. There’s very little to control in nature. Accepting that there’s nothing to fight and knowing when to shift and move forward was a hard lesson.
Finding my floral design style. Inspired by nature, embracing wild imperfection, and dancing with twinkly bits.
Taking a sustainable approach to growing. North Star is not certified organic, but I took the time to educate myself on soil fertility. No creepy chemicals or toxic flowers here!
Discovering a new connection with my mom and grandma through growing.
Successfully growing dahlias that had good tuber production.
Accepting that I had to learn the hard way how important it is to be on top of dahlia tubers. After digging up tubers, I left them to freeze in our mudroom. The few that survived freezing, I left out to shrivel and dry in 20% humidity while we renovated the kitchen.
Finding something I love that improves my physical health.
Almost learning when to ask for help. This is a toughie for me, but I’m getting better at saying yes when real help is offered. Mostly from John, but it’s a start.
Reconnecting with nature.
Growing viable, healthy, and sustainable flowers on a third acre. The rows we lost in the winter storm were planted over with six different varieties of sunflowers. But I was actually able to grow the flowers.
I dream of next season – of a future overflowing with flowers. I see the years filled with more enchantment and meaning as they fly by. And I imagine new plans to cultivate more beauty and search for ways I can share this magic with others.
Here’s to 2023, filled with wilderness and celebration.
