making a golden flower crown

There was this little magical moment not so long ago. I was wandering through the forest with the big girls, taking photos for my blog and their Instagrams, when Miss Pepper rode her bike down to see what we were up to. The light through the trees was golden, the air was still and sparkly, and we laughed, told stories and joked around with each other as the sun slowly set on the day.

And after a while, when we were finished taking photos, we looked over to see Pepper picking a small posy of little yellow flowers from the forest floor.

I've been thinking a lot about growing flowers lately. While I start the first module of my flower farming course, while I wander through the rows of flowers we planted in the garden, while I spend time each day investigating the progress of every variety, while I cut big bunches for the house and for friends and family, while I water, and deadhead, and stake, and tie, and watch.

Why do I want to grow flowers? What sort of flowers do I want to grow? How big an area do I want to devote to flowers? What will I do with all the flowers?

So far I haven't been able to quantify or clarify my answers. Growing flowers doesn't seem to make sense in my head. But my heart is another story entirely.

Growing flowers and slowly becoming a flower farmer is about a feeling. It's about beauty and luxury and treats and colours. It's about slowing our world down for a little while and getting caught up in the moment. It's about each emerging stem and leaf and petal. It's about falling in love with growing all over again.

I have a residual fear left over from our big farming days of putting a price tag on something I love, and turning it into a business. The spreadsheets and the invoicing and the price tags and the competition, still fill me with dread. And while I do want to take responsibility for my seed buying obsession and for all the time it takes us to grow them, I need to find a way to stay pure and true to the love of it, while slowly working out a way to help them pay for themselves and for us.

So I'm allowing myself to take baby steps, to take several weeks to complete the first week's module. Because I want this part of my farming journey to stay simple and filled with heart.

I want to lose myself in the moment of watching my smallest picking stalky green stems from the forest floor. I want to hear her talk about the ooze that comes from those stalks and sticks tacky to her fingers. I want to take hold of each blossom she passes me and braid them into a crown. I want to sit there for a moment longer. Just because. Just because I don't want this precious time to end.

And as I braid the little yellow flowers, I want to admire my hands that have their own strength and memory from years of hair and garlic braiding. I want to immerse myself in the joy and chatter going on around me as my girls wait. I want to feel totally unselfconscious as they take my camera and turn it on me. I want to watch the late afternoon sunlight stream in from behind them as they take turns trying the crown on after I've finished it. Posing and laughing, feeling the glow of the warm summer's night.

I truly believe that flowers must be filled with magic, and I love the dream of growing many and spreading that magic around, I just have to find a way to hold onto it while letting a little bit of real life in. I hope it's possible. I really hope I can balance it.

Do you have any thoughts about merging dreams with reality?

Do you think it's possible to hold onto the love and magic of a thing while also getting it to pay its own way?

Would you buy flowers from a farm gate stall? A market stall? A supermarket? A florist?

Wishing you all a magical weekend.

Love Kate x