It’s been a slow start to the season here on the farm just outside of Toronto in Port Perry, Ontario. The weather is still cool and a little unpredictable, which has kept things feeling behind—but also steady. I’ve learned over the years that nothing really moves on my timeline out here, and this year is no different.
Inside, things are already in motion. Statice, strawflower, and globe amaranth are all growing under lights, along with billy buttons that always take their time but are worth the wait. I’ve also direct sown globe thistle this season, which I’m excited to see establish once the soil fully warms up.
Outside, it still feels early. The beds are quiet, but weeds are already making their appearance, which always feels like the unofficial “start” of the growing season. Even so, I’ve spotted my first pollinators moving through the farm, which is always a small but meaningful sign that things are waking up.
This year also looks different personally. I’m balancing motherhood with a newborn and a toddler, and most days the garden time comes in small pockets—usually during naps or quiet moments when my husband can help. It’s not the uninterrupted kind of farming I used to know, but there’s something grounding about still finding those moments outside, even if they’re short.
Despite the slower pace, I’ve already had early inquiries for dried flowers—from workshop hosts, florists, crafters, and even a chef—which honestly caught me a bit off guard this early in the season. I’ve had to turn some of them down simply because I’m out of stock right now. It’s a good reminder of how seasonal and limited locally grown dried flowers really are, and how timing matters when you’re working directly with a farm.
There’s a lot coming this season, but for now it’s still in that quiet, in-between stage—watching things grow slowly, making plans, and trying to keep up with both the garden and home life as they unfold side by side.
