April at Hickman Hollow Farms
April was supposed to be the month everything really started to shine.
After the momentum we had in March, I was picturing soft spring rain, steady growth, and the kind of days where everything just works.
Instead, April had a different plan for us on the farm.
April Showers Bring May Flowers
Remember how I said in March I was looking forward to those April showers?
Well, color me disappointed.
April was dry. Really dry.
So dry, in fact, that our state issued a burn ban. And with no irrigation system in place yet, that left us with one option.
Manual watering.
Every row. Every bed. Every plant. Every day.
With a single, very humble sprinkler.
I found myself dragging that thing from one spot to the next, moving it every hour. I know my surrounding neighbors must have gotten quite the giggle watching me try to water the entire field with just a single sprinkler. There were days when it felt like all I did was move water across that field, trying to keep everything alive while watching the sky refuse to cooperate.
It was exhausting, mentally and physically, putting that much effort into keeping things alive while knowing how much easier it could be with just a little rain or, even better, the remaining parts of our irrigation system to come in so we could get it installed.
So yes, I am officially praying for two things to happen going into May.
Rain. And irrigation.
Some of our irrigation has arrived. In fact, if you walk through the fields now, you will find drip tape down many of the rows. The problem is…they aren’t hooked up to anything. Not very helpful. But it is coming!
A Surprise We Didn’t See Coming
I really thought March was the end of my ranunculus.
The heat has started creeping up in Florence, and everything I know about these drama queens told me that their time was up. I had already started mentally preparing to say goodbye to them for the season.
But to my complete surprise, they kept blooming.
Not just a few scattered flowers either. Every time I walked out to check on them, I found myself snipping a few more and making bouquets with every stem that appeared.
They held on almost all the way to the end of the month before the leaves finally started to fade back, but truth be told, even today, as I write this (the first week of May), there are still quite a few blooms shooting up as a last farewell.
In a month where we were dragging sprinklers across dry ground and praying for rain, those ranunculus just kept quietly doing what they were created to do, and it made me so happy.
But I will admit, I am looking forward to getting out there and digging up the corms to save for next year, so that I can get a new crop in the bed for the rest of the summer.
When the Gladiolus Took Over
During the first week of April, the gladiolus arrived.
And when I say arrived…I mean they arrived.
Boxes of bulbs showed up, and I had one of those moments where you look at what you ordered and think, “I’m sorry, how many did I think I needed?”
About 2,500.
Yes. Two thousand five hundred gladiolus bulbs.
And somehow, all of them needed to make their way into the ground.
We planted them across three beds, and let me just say…that was no small task. There were definitely moments where I questioned my decision-making skills as I stood there with bulb after bulb still waiting their turn.
But once we got into a rhythm, it became one of those projects where you just keep going.
One row at a time.
One handful at a time.
In total, we planted around 20 different varieties, which means when they bloom, it is going to be a full mix of colors, shapes, and heights dancing across those beds.
And the best part? They’ll come back next year. I love perennials.
By the end of April, we already had plenty of green leaves poking up out of the ground, so it won’t be long until the colorful blooms of gladiolus arrive.
Filling the Fields
If April had a theme beyond watering, it was this.
Plant everything.
It felt like every tray we started back in the winter was suddenly ready all at once. What had been tiny seedlings under grow lights were now strong enough to face the field, and one by one, they made their way into the ground.
Eucalyptus.
Celosia.
Zinnias.
Gomphrena.
Echinops.
Calendula.
Dusty Miller.
Sweet Annie.
And of course, all of those dahlia seedlings, each one still a complete mystery waiting to bloom.
We also direct-seeded large sections of the field. Strawflower, cosmos, and yes…more zinnias. Apparently, I believe there is no such thing as too many zinnias. And just for good measure, we reserved a couple of beds for some wildflower mixes, because why not!
And then there were the peonies. Big old hefty peony roots that were just beautiful.
We planted six full rows of peony roots this month, including Coral Charm, Bowl of Cream, Sarah Bernhardt, and Red Sarah Bernhardt. These are the kind of plants that take patience and time. The kind you plant now, knowing the real reward comes in the years ahead.
But here’s the part that has my heart fluttering. After planting, by the end of the month, they are already forming flower buds.
Now, I’ve been told you’re supposed to remove those buds the first year to help the plant establish strong roots.
And I understand that. I really do.
But before I go out there and…well…decapitate these beautiful little buds, I’m considering letting just a single bud bloom on each plant. Because I have to be honest, it feels a little heartbreaking to not let even one or two bloom. But I promise to do some thorough research before deciding for sure.
We’ll see. But I am so happy to report that at this point, the fields are no longer empty rows of dirt. They are, instead, full of possibility.
The First Zinnia
Somewhere in the middle of all the planting and watering and trying to keep everything alive, something small but really special happened.
Our first zinnia bloomed.
It might not seem like a big deal, but it was.
That first bloom felt like a little confirmation that everything we’ve been doing is working. That the seeds we started back in January, the trays under grow lights, the transplanting, the watering…it’s all leading somewhere.
And now?
They’re starting to show up more and more.
Every few days I walk the rows and spot another one, bright and bold like it’s announcing that the season has officially begun.
I can’t wait to see what those rows look like in a few more weeks.
A Quiet Moment in the Potting Shed
My potting shed has slowly taken on a life of its own this month.
Between trays of seedlings under grow lights and the constant in-and-out of working on the farm, it has also become home to quite a few bees.
They mostly keep to themselves.
I keep to mine.
We have an understanding.
But one visiting bee caught my attention.
This small bee made its way into my Dusty Miller seedlings and just…stayed. At first, I thought it had come in for a quick rest. It sat there so still, letting me get close enough to take a few pictures, gently waving a tiny foot every time I checked on it.
It stayed there for two days.
And then I realized.
It wasn’t just resting.
It had chosen that spot for its final moments.
I know it’s just a tiny bee, and these things happen, but it felt incredibly humbling. Out of all the places it could have gone, it ended up there, nestled in a tray of seedlings, surrounded by new life just beginning.
It was sad.
But it was also meaningful.
And it was also a reminder of the rhythm of life.
The Reality of “I’ll Just Post This Later”
I’ve come to a realization this month.
I am not as good at social media as I thought I would be. Which is a little crazy, since for years I ran a marketing agency that was known for social media.
I go into each week with the best intentions. I tell myself I’m going to document everything. Capture the progress. Share the behind-the-scenes.
And then I get out into the field.
And I forget.
Completely.
So if anyone would like to follow me around with a camera while I work, acting like my own paparazzi, I wouldn’t say no.
Designing a Space to Slow Down
Somewhere between watering rows and planting what feels like thousands of plants, I started thinking about something besides flowers.
An herb garden.
Not just a place to grow herbs, but a place to really experience them.
I don't want rows of herbs tucked away somewhere that only serve a purpose in the kitchen or that just line up alongside the flowers (although that would be beautiful). I want something for everyone to be able to come and visit. Something that feels intentional, yet natural. A place for workshops, for photos, for fresh picking, or just a place where someone can walk through and just...breathe.
And let’s be honest, a place for me to do the same when I'm not farming.
This is where things got interesting, and I'm sure my next sentence is going to ruffle some chicken feathers.
I've been using AI to help me design it.
I know AI can be a bit controversial, and I completely understand why. But for me, it has become a tool that has become a critical part of my brainstorming process. Not something that replaces the work, but something that helps me think through it. Between farming, family, and everything else life throws at us, there are days when my brain just feels full. This has been a way to sit down, slow my thoughts, and brainstorm ideas I might not have had the space to explore otherwise.
I've been using it to play with layouts, test different plant combinations, and imagine how the space could feel before I ever pick up a shovel. Not to take away from the hands-on work, but to support it.
To dream a little more clearly.
Just because I'm sure some may want to see what I've come up with, alongside the help of AI, I will share some of what was generated, showing different areas and ideas for the herb garden. Some are more structured, some a little more wild, and in various locations, but each one helps me visualize what it could become.
Source Images of our property now:
What AI generated for me based on my various prompts:
Don’t get me wrong, AI isn’t perfect. If you look closely, you will see the fence line really confused it, and it struggled with keeping it on the outside of the potting shed. But still, the concept was there, and the idea I conveyed through my prompts was definitely obvious.
But you can see the three locations I am considering. First, there is inside the fence line of my backyard, which is where the potting shed is. The second option is outside the fence (and my backyard). And third, near the barn, which is where the entrance to the farm store will be, and is currently my preference.
Beyond location and design, the question I have is what herbs should be included?
The kitchen classics, of course. Basil, rosemary, thyme, lavender, and mint. But also things that bring texture, height, and movement, like passion flower or star jasmine. Things that make the space feel layered, alive, and full of life at every level.
We're also planning to include herbs that support natural wellness and herbal living. Things like echinacea, lemon balm, chamomile, holy basil, and other plants that can be used for teas, tinctures, and simple home remedies.
This part is especially important to us because Jamie has been creating handcrafted teas for years using organic herbs he buys, and now he can use the herbs grown right here on the farm. There is something really special about being able to walk outside, harvest what you need, and turn it into something that nourishes your body.
I want our herb garden to reflect all of this, and I hope it will draw our own community to come to the farm to learn, pick, taste, and walk away with a deeper appreciation for what these plants can offer beyond kitchen spices. And maybe even breathe in the scent of herbs on a warm day, and feel like they've stepped into something slower and calmer.
Truthfully, it might end up being one of my favorite spaces on the farm. Just don't tell the flowers that. I will be sure to keep everyone updated as the months go on.
Ready to Welcome You
This month also marked a big step forward for us in a different way.
We officially became part of the South Carolina Agritourism Association.
And with that came something that felt surprisingly meaningful.
Our agritourism liability sign.
It is now hanging at the entrance to the farm, and while it may seem like a small thing, it represents something much bigger.
It means we are ready. Ready to welcome visitors and share this beautiful space starting this summer.
Be sure to look for us in the 2026 agritourism directory alongside other farms across the state.
Looking Ahead
April wasn’t easy.
But it was good.
It was the kind of month that reminds you this work isn’t always going to be simple or comfortable. Sometimes it’s dry. Sometimes it’s exhausting. Sometimes it asks more of you than you expected to give.
But even in that, things are growing.
Seeds are sprouting. Fields are filling. Blooms are beginning.
And so are we.
We’re heading into May hopeful, praying for rain, and trusting that everything we’ve planted will begin to show us just what it’s capable of.
One month at a time.
