07/07/2025
The day began at 6:30 a.m., the morning cool and crisp, carrying that fleeting freshness only July can offer before the heat settles in. I rolled out of bed, pulled on a sweater, and reached for my bucket and pruners before heading out to the flower field. The rain and heat had worked their magic—nearly every sunflower had opened overnight. There were more blooms than I had bouquets going out that morning, and I wasn’t sure what I’d do with the overflow. Still, each stem needed harvesting.
I moved slowly through the rows, an hour behind schedule, letting my thoughts drift to each CSA member. I walked the field like a shopper in a quiet market, matching colors and textures, imagining what would bring each person the most delight. This kind of work—the creative, thoughtful kind—always slows me down. But these aren’t just flowers. They’re a prayer, a gesture. Each bouquet is hand-picked, intentionally chosen. A loved one somewhere is trusting me to deliver beauty and care, as if the gift came from their own hands.
