Hi! I'm Logan and I'm glad you're here. I'm a Marine Corps veteran, married to an equipment operator husband. Never in a million years did we think we'd be flower farmers, or even living in NH! But because of one special lady and God's provision, here we am, somehow figuring it out
In 2018, my husband and I decided to pack up everything we had (and our two goats, haha!) and move to New Hampshire from Southern Pennsylvania. Kinda crazy how that all fell together, but that's a story for another day. We moved in Memorial Day weekend 2018 and after helping us move, Diane was out tilling up the yard and planting over a dozen flats of plants. It was like 1200 little bitty plants that she got in the ground in just a few days. Pretty amazing! Our plan was that she'd get them planted and I'd just water when they needed it and she would be moved in when they'd be ready to harvest. Well, life didn't work out that way so I was out cutting her flowers, bunching them up and selling them in mason jars at our first little stand at the end of our driveway. I remember telling people that they were my mother in law's flowers and I was just growing them for her until she moves up from Maryland. I'd tell people not to judge my arranging skills because she was the real artist and I really had no idea what I was doing!
The flower farming thing was all her, It was her passion, her love of the outdoors, her art. She always talked about when she got to New Hampshire, how we'd have a flower farm and do farmers market and weddings... and I was always quick to correct her. I'd tell her that this was her thing, I'd help her when I could but I had my own life and priorities that needed my full attention and I didn't want her to count on me and be left hanging.
The next summer, mom was able to move in, but she was having a hard time getting around so my husband tilled the garden beds and I put the plants in. I got about half of them in (over a couple week period) and tapped out. I was tired, sore, frustrated and stressed out. I felt like i was failing in all areas because I was trying to do too much. This wasn't "my thing" after all. I did what I could, and mom was more than grateful, but it was nowhere near what she had done in the past. I was just trying to grow for her to enjoy, to feel some sense of normalcy even when her health was failing. I hoped that the flowers would draw her outside and that she'd get healing from them. Id cut some flowers and make up a couple arrangements to stick out on the roadside when I could, but that was it.
That winter, something changed. I started reading all the books that I could get my hands on. Going through all the magazines and seed catalogs, highlighting, circling, passing them back and forth to mom for her approval. She had so much knowledge and I couldn't get enough of it. She ordered a bunch of seeds, gladiola bulbs and dahlia tubers. I researched and drew up the plans for the perfect greenhouse. We were ready! March 2020, we put together our first greenhouse and I started tons of seeds. I could fit 25 flats, and I did just that, with more on the floor of the greenhouse. Everyday I'd get such joy out of walking out in the cold and quiet of the morning (remember, I have 2 little boys so there's not much quiet in my life. I treasure those moments.) I'd check to see what new tiny seedlings sprouted. I'd take pictures and show them to Diane, because I knew she'd understand my excitement. It was so incredible to watch seeds swell up and unfold. To see this beautiful green little sprout grow from a teeny tiny brown speck. It was like Christmas morning everyday. I'd go to sleep anxious to see what was going to pop up overnight. I can't really explain it. I've grown things from seed in the past, marigolds as a kid, dirtball grass heads with my kids and it just never hit me like it did in the greenhouse. It was almost like I was getting a tiny little glimpse of watching God bring things to life. Watching Him create. Like I was the assistant, who would run to get clean water for the artist's paint brush, just watching in awe of His handiwork. We had plenty of losses, plenty of times I'd get caught up in life, forgetting to water at night, or missing a morning watering, and things would shrivel up and die. We had certain plants that I just didn't have any luck with growing at all. We had some go crazy in the greenhouse and I couldn't get them in the ground soon enough. Plenty of losses that first real year, and plenty of successes too. Let me tell you, there has been a LOT of trial and error. Growing in the sandy soil we have here is WAY different than the clay mom was used to back home. It was a rollercoaster, for sure. But when I was able to go out and cut buckets and buckets of the most beautiful flowers, amazed every single time at I was able to have a hand in helping them grow, it was worth it. That summer, I was able to learn so much from mom. To soak in things that you can only learn from experience. I'd run inside, covered in dirt to ask her what she thought about this or that, where something should be planted, how tall something would grow. Normally, she'd be sitting at the kitchen table with her coffee, looking out our big kitchen window or reading her Epoch Times newspaper and she'd always just know.
The season ended mid-September with our first frost. Luckily, I was able to go out and harvest all the flowers that I could. I cut bunches and bunches of sunflowers, amaranth, ageratum, celosia, all flowers that dry really well, and hung them up on our mantle. I have a picture of it on instagram somewhere. When life slows down for a minute, I hope to get into making some dried flower wreaths and decor but for now I'll just enjoy them hanging in our family room.
Being able to learn from her, I fell in love with the whole process. From scouring the seed catalogs, picking out colors and textures that would compliment each other. To making sure we planned for plenty "thrillers, fillers and spillers" in our arrangements. To walking around the yard, face a foot away from the dirt, looking for the first tiny green sprouts of spring. To checking our row of peonies daily, counting how many shoots are popping through the mulch and reporting the count back to mom, as she was the only one who would share my enthusiasm day after day. To starting thousands of little seedlings, tending to them day after day. To constantly having dirt stained hands and fingernails from March to September. To feeling exhausted but accomplished after a long hot day in the field. To being able to make the perfect bouquets for a special event. To having customers turn into cherished friends, all from the beauty of flowers. (Lynn, Jennifer, Grace and Mr. Warren, I'm talking about YOU!) I fell in love with flower farming, and I fell hard.
Diane passed away that next month, in October 2020. It came on fast and was really unexpected but luckily, we were all able to be there with her in the hospital room for her last moments. After she had gone, my husband turned and said to me, "I hope you still grow some flowers next year." I responded, "I hadn't even questioned it, of course I'm going to!" It was never a thought not to continue mom's dream. She had big plans to start a flower farm here in New Hampshire, to grow fresh-as-you-can-get flowers for our friends and neighbors in the community, to have our flowers available for sale in our favorite local coffee shops and boutiques, to be able to work with brides to create their dream wedding through flowers and more! So much of that has already happened, and I'll continue to work to make her dream come alive more and more.
We've got big plans for our little flower farm, so stay tuned for our 2021 season and beyond! We thank you for your support and helping bring our vision to life. We are forever grateful!