I have been wracking my brain about blog topics for months, literally months. Mostly I have been too knee deep in flowers to have much energy for anything else but when I have stopped to consider what to write about next, my mind swirls. On occasion, a good “mind swirl” gets me pumped up with ideas but this writers block has been more embedded.

I’ve been reading more and more about marketing strategy and getting more “reach,” creating “funnels,” getting “leads,” and clearly a lot of this shit works. If it didn’t work, we wouldn’t have an entire industry devoted to it. But sometimes it just feels so cringe worthy. Yes, there must be a business and marketing strategy for sales and exposure for our business, but how do we do this in a way that feels authentic?

The same resources that give you the inside scoop about marketing strategy will tell you to connect with your customers in a more personal way. “Tell them your story, take them on a journey” .. yada, yada, yada. Ok fine, but then that feels contrived too. Now I am manufacturing “authenticity” as a marketing tool? But is that authentic? what does that even mean? and how much of myself do I share before I have given away too much personal information? Made myself too exposed? created an expectation that every thought is subject to public review and comment. Is that what we’re supposed to be doing?

Honestly it just feels like more snake oil sometimes. Because here is the thing, we’ve been sold the idea that “reality” television is real, and it’s not. Do we really believe that the Kardashians are being “real” with a film crew in their homes on scheduled days and times (after their “glam squad” has been over to make them look flawless for the cameras)? We seem to have accepted the “reality” of "non-reality.” It gives me feelings of complete disdain for the manipulation of it, while I make sure I don’t miss an episode. See the dilemma there? I want our life to transcend into higher ordered thinking and feeling but I can’t give up the Bravo network. I bet some of you are laughing at this irony too.

I have a lot of strong opinions about a lot of topics, but generally I don’t think there is anything revolutionary about my thoughts or opinions. In fact, sometimes the wisdom of just being quiet seems to be the best way to inner peace, yet I can’t help myself from wanting to connect to other humans and dive into messy topics. In fact, I find one of the more excruciating experiences to be “the dinner party.” Unless I am sure that the guest list includes interesting humans that enjoy a deep dive into politics AND religion, I am generally looking for an excuse to skip it. Small talk in a big room of people is excruciating for me. I would rather be in my jammies watching a movie in my bed any day of the week than have to endure small talk. So what is the equivalent in business of avoiding the banal dinner party but not inviting everyone to the pajama party? Still trying to figure this one out.

But here we are, running a small business and we are required to lean into small talk almost every single day. It can come in the form of a transaction at the market or a quick email, but when you are in the business of trying to sell anything, you are required to put yourself out there. It’s not as if we haven’t done that. Anyone that has been following our business probably knows something about our “journey to flower farming,” and it is a cool story. We are also sometimes surprised that we have made such huge changes in our lives over the last 5 years. But we’ve kind of covered it right? Do we need to keep talking about it? How much more “authenticity” must we share? Is there an exit ramp on this hardcore sales and autobiographical shit? The everlasting, unrelenting push to sell “ourselves” in addition to the flowers is utterly excruciating. And yet, it is the thing that has made the business worthwhile. Isn’t that ironic? Flowers yes … but the people we’ve met have propelled us forward at every turn.

And as I write this and read it back I keep thinking, “good grief, why aren’t you writing about dahlias for gods sake, you’re a flower farmer not a freaking therapist or spiritual guide.” But you know what, these are the things that think about the most. I don’t spend my days pondering how to grow better dahlias. I think and wonder about why I love them so much, how these flowers changed my life and what this business has taught me about courage, risk and connection. If we’re going to show you who we really are, we are going to open the window into the deep shit. Intense? yes. Not for everyone? Also yes. But that’s ok. There is a place for all kinds of business "strategy” and maybe ours is just ours. It may not make us the next Chip and Joanna Gaines and that’s fine. It will make us grounded in a business model that feels the same in public as it is in private. And the freedom to be exactly who we are is a freedom that we don’t want to compromise because of money.

I’ll wrap this up by musing about two things, a failure and a success. Lets start with the failure. A company that we co-owned failed this year. It failed for a lot of reasons but ultimately it came down to simple math. Too much money out, not enough money in. It was, and continues to be, deeply disappointing and embarrassing. Tom was a true believer in creating a new path to better sales for local flower farmers. I was always more skeptical. Every start up business goes through changes, demands, losses and attempts at making it work. In the case of that business, it felt never ending. It pulled on so many people. The intentions of everyone involved were genuine, and everyone agreed that a better way to selling local flowers was desperately needed. There was and is no question that there is a pain point (a big throbbing pain point) for small scale farmers to make a livable wage. We feel that acutely right now. But it didn’t work. The business could not continue.

We are still working through the aftermath, both financially and emotionally. It will take more time to get an emotionally neutral perspective about all of it. I hope someday we can look back with a solid “that was a really important learning experience” and take way some peace about what we attempted. I hope everyone who was involved can do that too. For now, we will continue to tell the truth, do our best and move forward with more caution, tempered expectations and more humility. Failure, I suppose, is all about perspcetive. I’ve often said that there is no such thing as failure as long as you learn something and we’ve definitely learned some things: Business is tough, people are complicated and good intentions are not enough.

Now for a success. We opened our dahlia fields to the public this year for the first time. I’d like to take credit for the idea, but it wasn’t mine. Our dear friend Ellen Seagraves was out to the farm for a flower pick up in early October and suggested we allow people to come out before the first frost to pick their own dahlias. Just the suggestion gave me a lump in my throat. I immediately had visions of crowded aisles and people decimating the dahlia plants, kids running amuck with no parental supervision, people tripping over those damn steel cages on each dahlia row. Literally, that is what my brain did at the mere suggestion of a U-pick event. But I have learned through many years of therapy, that my best approach to anything that gives me a lump in my throat is to pause. So I did. I played it out in my head: worst case scenario first (attorney brain still fully intact) and then best case. Best case didn’t require much, but worst case needed to be thought through. I made a list: “The things that need to be in place in order for this to happen.”

I would need to double check our liability insurance policy, draft a liability waiver for all participants to sign, make sure all cages were marked so that people could see them, set up reasonable parking, pricing, time limits, pre pay sign ups on our website, buy the vessels, count stems? no thanks … we decided against policing that. After writing it all down, we decided that with the right boundaries in place, we should try it. At least once. The result? the best day of our season.

All of those needling anxieties I had were proven to be much ado about nothing. It was wonderful. At the beginning of the event I stayed in the pavilion for fear that, if in the fields, I would be gritting my teeth watching people cut the dahlias. Eventually, I ventured out into the fields. I didn’t want to mingle per se, I just started collecting dahlia seed pods. I quietly disappeared into the rows and into my head and allowed myself to see the utter beauty of those moments. It wasn’t the flowers. It was listening to the conversations between the visitor’s that made me utterly joyful. They gasped, they giggled, they shouted to each other “come over here, you won’t believe this one!”

I couldn’t leave the fields, I just kept to myself and listened. It was an otherworldly experience; spiritual for me. This was joy… in full view. It was palpable and unfettered, free from self conscious filtering, free from comparison, self loathing, criticism. It was peaceful but contentment with utter awe at the wonder of flowers. I felt brought back to the very reason I wanted to change my life. It sounds somewhat grandiose, maybe contrived, but if you know me, you know I don’t often lead a conversation with the spiritual joys of flowers. But at the core of me (and Tom) was a feeling of deep connection because of flowers. I truly believe, that in the midst of such a difficult season of endless work, worry and financial stress, that that u pick day was meant to happen to remind us. We desperately needed a reminder that no matter what obstacles we face (and believe me they are numerous), we got here because of nature and the deep joy that comes from sharing it with each other, and all of you.