Spring keeps trying to arrive.
March came in cold — stubbornly so, the kind of cold that makes you second-guess every seed sitting on a windowsill. Then April showed up bone dry. Two unusual patterns back to back, which for our mighty Charleston flower farm means a slower start than I’d planned for. But on April 1st, the first flowers opened. Snapdragons, of course — they’re almost always the first to the party. Things are off to a quieter start than last year, but they’re off.
Winter at the farm (mostly indoors)
Most of winter’s work happens under grow lights, not under the sun. There’s a rhythm to it: seed, water, watch, repeat. Trays of seedlings on every flat surface in the house, and a daily routine of rotating them so they don’t reach too hard toward the window. It’s slow, quiet, hopeful work — and honestly some of my favorite weeks of the year.
The outside work still has to happen, though, and this year I had help. My two favorite helpers — ages 7 and 9 — spent chilly Saturdays laying woodchips on the walking paths and covering and uncovering the overwintering beds every time the forecast flipped (which it did, constantly). If you’ve never watched a seven-year-old wrestle a frost blanket in a stiff wind, I highly recommend it.
The cold took more than I’d hoped
Our losses over the winter were bigger than usual. The hard freezes got through more blankets than they should have, and I spent a stretch of late February walking the rows doing the math on what wouldn’t make it. Some perennials that have always come back didn’t this year. That part stings — there’s a real attachment that builds up to a plant that’s been with the farm for a couple of seasons.
So late March turned into a full sprint. Thousands of transplants going into the ground to make up the difference, and the irrigation system coming back online zone by zone. I don’t love the extra work, but I do love the chance to try new varieties I’ve had my eye on. Loss makes room, eventually.
Adjusting to the drought
The lack of rain has been its own puzzle. I’ve stretched our watering schedule in ways I wouldn’t normally, moved irrigation priority toward the beds blooming earliest, and layered on extra mulch to hold moisture where I could. None of these are dramatic fixes — just a lot of small adjustments that add up to plants hanging on. They’re not thriving the way they would in a normal April, but they’re here, and that’s what matters right now.
The weeds, meanwhile, are unfazed. Completely, infuriatingly fine. Apparently nothing slows them down — not the cold, not the drought, not a nine-year-old armed with a hoe. A universal constant, it turns out.
First flowers out the door
This is my favorite week of the year, every year. The first donations of the season are heading out.
Barefoot Flower Farm is providing all of the flower arrangements for a charity event at Ronald McDonald House — a place where a vase on the table isn’t decoration, it’s a small, deliberate reminder that someone is thinking of you. And starting next week, our weekly deliveries to Postpartum Support Charleston pick back up. Those bouquets travel home with new mothers walking through one of the most tender and hardest seasons of their lives. Knowing a few of those flowers started as seeds on my kitchen counter in January still catches me off guard a little.
The season’s finally open. Slower than usual, but open. More updates soon — there’s a lot more where this came from.