March at Hickman Hollow Farms
March…When Everything Woke Up at Once
March did not ask for permission before it showed up. It decided to just chaotically put itself in our laps.
It started slow, almost like it was easing us in after February and teasing us with spring weather. Cool mornings, steady routines, and just enough work to feel like we were making progress without being overwhelmed.
And then…the warm weather came.
About halfway through the month, it was like someone flipped a switch and everything started happening at once.
The fields began to wake up. Seedlings were ready, whether we were ready or not. Crates of tubers and roots, bags of bulbs and corms, and, of course, seed, showed up faster than we could open them and get them planted. The days got longer, the weather got warmer, and suddenly the farm was no longer quiet.
March did not feel like a slow transition into spring.
It felt like spring arrived all at once, and expected our 50+ year old bodies to keep up.
Ok, so let’s dig into it.
Tulips: Lessons Learned (and a Win!)
Our tulip experiment officially wrapped up this month, and I have to say, I’m calling it a success. Not a perfect success. But a real one.
We learned how to force tulips to bloom when we want them to, which still makes me feel a little like a magician. There is something deeply satisfying about pulling flowers out of a cooler a couple of weeks after harvest and watching them come to life right on schedule.
We also learned that tulips are a bit more high-maintenance than I originally gave them credit for.
They are thirsty.
Much thirstier than I expected.
Keeping them properly hydrated made a noticeable difference in their quality, and that is definitely a lesson I will carry forward into next season. In addition to being thirsty, I think they were also quite hungry. I only fertilized twice, and I’m not so sure that wasn’t a mistake. But, it was a checklist item for us to research further.
We also tested how long they could hold in the cooler after harvest. Two weeks gave us excellent quality in blooms and leaves. Three weeks was still acceptable, but not exactly perfect. But anything beyond that…well, let’s just say they started looking like they had been through something.
4 weeks post harvest and all shriveled up
Three weeks seems to be their absolute limit before they turn into what I lovingly call “zombie tulips.” Still standing, but not quite thriving.
The tulip blooms were actually still quite nice in this zombie stage, but the leaves were so badly shriveled that no amount of water could bring them back.
We even conducted a 4-week experiment, and it was quite the sight walking in and seeing that cup on my kitchen table those few days. The blooms weren’t terrible, but those leaves…no amount of water could restore them from their shriveled-up state.
All in all, this experiment gave us confidence. Confidence that we can grow, store, and time tulips intentionally, which opens up a lot of possibilities for future seasons.
Daffodils Steal the Show
While the tulips were teaching us lessons and helping me to add notes in my research notebook for the season, the daffodils quietly stepped into the farm and showed off.
And wow…did they show off.
The daffodils were absolutely beautiful this month. Bright, cheerful, and completely unfazed by the rising South Carolina temperatures. While other flowers start to struggle when the heat creeps in, these just kept going like they had something to prove.
I originally had no intentions of growing daffodils in the flower field. We are building a permaculture orchard in one of the other small fields, and I thought they would be great to come up between the trees in the spring. I only ordered a small selection of bulbs to plant in my orchard, but after seeing them this year, I’m already getting my order in for a couple thousand bulbs in the flower field for fall planting.
One of the things I love most about daffodils is that they give and keep on giving. Unlike tulips, which we pull at the bulb and treat more like an annual, daffodils settle in. They bloom, fade back, and then return again the following spring.
There is something comforting about that kind of reliability.
In fact, the wheels are already spinning with ideas for a Daffodil Day on the farm next spring, with beds full and ready for picking. If that sounds like something you would love, make sure you are on our mailing list so you do not miss it.
Because if this year is any indication, it is going to be beautiful.
Ranunculus: A Lesson in Letting Go
If you followed along with us this month, then you already know…
Ranunculus and I have a bit of a complicated relationship right now.
We knew going into this season that we planted them later than ideal. We got them into the ground in mid-January, which in our climate was already pushing it. But we had the corms, and we decided to go for it anyway.
Sometimes you just have to try.
And they did grow. They bloomed and gave us the most beautiful display of color that was very much appreciated in this early spring.
But the South Carolina heat came in quickly, and those beautiful blooms did not last long. Watching them flop over almost as soon as they opened was a little heartbreaking, not going to lie.
And yet…I still love them.
Even knowing they struggled, I found myself gathering what blooms I could, making a few small bouquets, and already thinking ahead to next year.
There is something about ranunculus that keeps pulling me back into photos, research, and other farmers growing them. It’s all so beautiful and quite challenging. They are not the easiest thing to grow.
Here is the thing, though. Even though I didn’t end up with much worthy of a customer bouquet, this was not a failure. This was a lesson.
And if all goes well, those corms multiply underground, getting ready for a much better season next year when we plant them in November like we should have from the start.
Sometimes farming is about adjusting expectations and choosing to see the long game.
And I am definitely playing the long game with ranunculus.
Planting Season in Full Swing
If I had to describe March in one word, it would be this.
Planting.
So. Much. Planting.
What started as trays of seedlings under grow lights quickly turned into full days out in the flower field. Snapdragons went in. Yarrow was transplanted. Lily bulbs were planted. Beds started filling in faster than we could step back and admire them.
We were all out there prepping beds, digging trenches, and adding amendments to the soil, all with the hope of beautiful blooms.
And then came the big project.
Dahlias.
Crates and crates of dahlia tubers arrived, plus boxes from individual growers, and it was quite magical to see all these ugly tubers in front of me, knowing what they would turn into.
What followed was three to four solid days of planting. Row after row, tuber after tuber, until we lost count somewhere just over a thousand.
Yes, over one thousand dahlias…so far. That doesn’t even count the trays of dahlia cuttings that I have been taking all winter long. Those will be in the ground soon enough as well.
Don’t get me wrong, there were definitely moments where I questioned my life choices. This flower farm is a solo family business, no helpers, no employees. It’s hard right now.
But I also know what is coming.
By mid to late summer, those fields are going to be filled with color. Layers of blooms, every shape and shade, all moving in the breeze.
And that thought made every sore muscle worth it.
I even managed to recruit Saige to come help with planting, which made those long days a little more special. There is something really sweet about working side by side that creates memories you do not forget.
We also planted out six rows of peonies, each 50 feet long, with varieties like Sarah Bernhardt, Red Sarah Bernhardt, Bowl of Cream, and Coral Magic. Those are an investment in patience, but one I am very excited about.
A Farm That’s Coming to Life
March was busy. Really busy. But it was the kind of busy that feels good.
The kind where you look around and start to see green where there used to be bare ground. The kind where your days are full, your body is tired, and your heart is completely in it.
Our family spent a lot of time together this month. Planning. Planting. Dreaming. Adjusting.
This farm is no longer just an idea. It is becoming something real.
And as we step into April, we are ready for what comes next.
Rain.
Growth.
Color.
We are looking forward to those April showers, knowing they will bring everything we planted to life in ways we are just starting to imagine.
One month at a time, this place is becoming exactly what we hoped it would be.
And we are so grateful to be right here in the middle of it.
