While the Season Begins to Turn

From the Gardener’s Journal
The Gardener’s Letter No. 02

Dearest friend of the Hollow,

There is something very strange happening in the flower fields right now.

If you stand at the end of some of our beds, you will see tired plants that have spent the better part of a South Carolina summer baking in the sun. There are faded blooms, unruly pasture grass, and more than a few plants that look like they would appreciate a long vacation.

But look a little closer.

There are tiny green zinnia heads poking through the soil.

The sunflowers are stretching themselves toward the sky.

The new cosmos have already reached about two feet tall and are covered in the prettiest dark green foliage.

And the dahlias, who apparently just needed a minute to gather themselves, are putting on new buds.

September has arrived at Hickman Hollow, and somehow the fields are ending and beginning at exactly the same time.

I suppose I should be used to this by now.

The longer I live here, the more I am convinced the Hollow keeps a calendar of its own.

I make plans. I sow seeds. I write dates on little plant markers and faithfully count backward from frost.

The Hollow mostly ignores me.

Then, just when I am convinced something has gone terribly wrong, a bed that looked half asleep a week ago pushes out new growth.

I like to think this is the Keeper's way of reminding the Gardener which one of us is actually in charge around here.

I am still not entirely sure who appointed the Keeper.

I have my suspicions.

The Fields Are Waking Up Again

A few weeks ago, I was looking around the flower field, wondering whether anything was ever going to look lush again.

August was rough.

Heat, dry weather, exhausted plants, weeds, grass. Everything seemed tired, including the Gardener.

Now there are little signs everywhere that the farm is getting its second wind.

Our succession zinnias are emerging. The cosmos are growing beautifully. Sunflowers are getting taller every day. The dahlias are filling themselves with buds, and some of our hardworking fillers like gaura, cinnamon basil, and verbena seem perfectly content to keep going.

There is something incredibly satisfying about seeing those new plants growing beside beds that are already finished.

It is also a good reminder of why succession planting matters so much on a flower farm.

Instead of planting every seed at the beginning of the season and hoping the flowers somehow carry us until frost, we plant some varieties in rounds. As one planting begins to fade, another is waiting behind it.

At least that is the Gardener's plan.

The Keeper, the weather, and approximately seven million grasshoppers are apparently permitted to make amendments.

But when it works, the flower field gets more than one grand entrance.

And right now, the next act is quietly getting ready backstage.

Meanwhile, the Seed Room Is Glowing Again

Seed sowing started this week.

Which means grow lights are once again illuminating tiny trays of what currently looks like dirt, but what I insist everyone believe will eventually become flowers.

There is something wonderfully strange about sowing the future while standing in the middle of the present.

Outside, summer flowers are finishing.

In another field, fall flowers are beginning.

Inside, I am already tending plants for what comes after that.

Perhaps that is part of being the Gardener.

You are almost never tending only the season you are standing in.

One hand is gathering what is ready today while the other is quietly planting something for a season you cannot see yet.

There Is a Field Under That Tarp

Another big project happened this week, although from the field it probably looks like we simply covered a large section of perfectly good land in black plastic.

We silage-tarped the back field.

And I am ridiculously excited about it.

That field will become our specialty crop field next year.

Unlike the U-Pick field, this area will primarily be a production space. We plan to grow specialty cut flowers and herbs there for our retail bouquets beginning in early spring, as well as flowers and herbs for local florists and restaurants.

Right now, however, it looks considerably less romantic.

It is a field covered in tarp.

The funny thing about living here is that I am beginning to see places not only for what they are, but for what they seem determined to become.

The herb garden did this.

The flower field did it.

The orchard did it.

Now the back field has apparently joined in.

Maybe the Keeper knows what it will look like already.

The Gardener, unfortunately, still has to do all the work.

Silage tarping is one of those farming practices that does not make particularly glamorous photographs, but it can save an enormous amount of work later. By blocking sunlight for several weeks, the tarp suppresses existing vegetation underneath it. When we remove it, we should have a much cleaner surface to begin preparing beds.

So while that giant black tarp may not look like much right now, I look at it and see rows of flowers.

Buckets headed to florists, herbs going into kitchens, and bouquets sitting on restaurant tables somewhere in Florence.

Sometimes growing something begins long before there is anything beautiful to see.

Then again, the flower field was much the same before we planted it.

If you happen to know a local restaurant that would love fresh flowers delivered weekly next year, you are more than welcome to whisper our name in their direction. I know we would appreciate it.

Apparently Chickens Have Opinions About Zinnias

I have discovered another use for the flower field.

Chicken snacks.

Our chickens are growing unbelievably fast, and I have started bringing them some of the flowers and seed heads that I pull from the field. The truth is, you may catch me feeding them entire bouquets because I believe they deserve the prettiest of snacks.

They are enthusiastic participants in this arrangement.

Sunflowers are especially popular. But I recently learned they also seem quite happy with faded zinnias.

I find this strangely satisfying.

A flower can begin as a tiny seed, grow into something beautiful enough for someone to carry home in a bouquet, feed pollinators while it blooms, produce seed, and then eventually become something the chickens scratch through and enjoy.

Not everything on a farm needs to end when its prettiest days are over.

Sometimes it simply becomes useful in a different way.

I suspect the Keeper approves, but I am fairly certain the chickens are considerably less philosophical about it.

Something Is Happening in the Farm Store

There are no exciting new products to announce in the Farm Store this week.

There is, however, quite a bit happening inside it.

We are preparing to install more shelves and spruce everything up for fall.

And I am finally getting my flower cloud. Well, I am designing it and planning it this week.

If you have never seen one, imagine bundles of flowers hanging upside down overhead to dry, slowly becoming this wonderfully wild ceiling of stems, petals, and color.

I have wanted one for a while.

Partly because drying flowers is useful.

Mostly because I think it is going to be gorgeous.

I have a feeling the Farm Store will become one of those places in the Hollow that develops a personality of its own.

Right now it is still deciding what it wants to be. Shelves are moving. Flowers will soon be hanging overhead. Fall things will begin appearing.

And somehow Christmas is already sneaking toward the door.

I have not invited it in yet.

One More Weekend at Half Price

The Gardener has been watching the flower fields very closely lately.

Possibly too closely.

Every morning brings another inspection of the tiny zinnias, the stretching sunflowers, the growing cosmos, and all those new dahlia buds. I am quite certain staring at them does not make them bloom any faster, but that has not stopped me from trying.

The fall flowers are coming.

They are just not quite here yet.

So, for one more weekend, Saturday, September 12, our U Picks will be 50 percent off.

Our regular $20 picking option will be $10, and our regular $40 option will be $20.

I want to be completely honest about what you will find when you arrive. The fields are between flushes right now. There are still flowers to pick, especially some of our hardworking fillers and smaller flowers, but there is not the abundance you may have seen earlier in the summer.

Think of this weekend as a bit of a treasure hunt through the Hollow.

There will be weeds. There will be pasture grass. There will be tired summer plants standing beside brand new ones. You may have to wander a little farther and look a little closer. But if you look at the photo above, there are still beautiful bouquets to be made.

But sometimes that makes finding the perfect flower even sweeter.

Meanwhile, all around you, the next round is growing.

Perhaps the Keeper understands patience better than the Gardener does.

So come wander the fields with us one more weekend at half price. Pick the treasures you find, peek at everything growing for fall, and enjoy this funny little in-between season with us.

The Hollow is not finished blooming yet.

Six Weeks

Here is the part I have been trying not to think about.

If everything follows the schedule Mother Nature has loosely agreed to, we probably have about six weeks left in our first U Pick season.

Six weeks.

All winter I dreamed about opening this farm.

I imagined people walking through the rows with jars and buckets. I wondered whether anyone would actually come.

Then you did.

You came on Saturdays. You came on hot weekday mornings. You brought children and mothers and friends. You walked through our imperfect fields and somehow saw the same beauty in them that we do.

And somewhere along the way, something happened that I was not expecting.

I started recognizing people. I started remembering your favorite flowers. I started looking forward to seeing familiar cars pull into the farm. You stopped feeling quite so much like visitors and guests. You became our friends of the Hollow.

Now fall flowers are coming, and I am genuinely excited about them.

But every new bud is also quietly counting down our season.

And I am already trying to come up with excuses to get everyone back here during winter.

Fortunately, I may have found one.

I Probably Should Not Tell You This Yet

Something new is being planned for October.

It involves a gathering at the farm.

There will be people who bake things. People who grow things. People who crochet, pour, stitch, arrange, carve, preserve, craft, and make things with their own hands.

But this will not exactly be a market.

There will be a table. There will be swapping.

And if everything comes together the way I am imagining it, everyone may go home with a collection of handmade things created by their neighbors.

That is all the Gardener is authorized to share.

Unfortunately, there are very few secrets in the Hollow.

The Wrens see to that.

A Note from the Wrens

The Gardener has been talking an awful lot about October lately.

Something about a table, a group of makers, and everyone bringing enough handmade things to share.

The Keeper says patience.

The Gardener says she is working on it.

We prefer gossip.

More soon.

Until we meet again.