The First Frost
The end of the growing season and the start of something a little quieter
Last week brought our first frost. One morning the fields were white with it, and by afternoon the dahlias, zinnias, and marigolds had all turned black and brown. Every year it feels like it came too soon.
The Last Harvest
In the days leading up to it, I spent every hour of daylight harvesting. From sunrise to dusk, I cut armfuls of blooms, filling buckets, then more buckets, until the studio was crowded with flowers. It was all in preparation for a busy weekend of markets- the Windham Autumn Affair and Field & Supply. Both are highlights of the season, but they come at a cost. It’s always an exhausting week, usually ending with a cold. Fortunately, this year I’ve made it through unscathed, though I still feel that familiar post-harvest fatigue.
What Comes After
Now the fields are quiet. One more weekend of farmers markets remains, and this time, our tables will be filled exclusively with dried arrangements—bouquets of strawflower, statice, amaranth, and marigolds saved from the final cuts before the frost. After that, we’ll shift gears for a wedding in Brooklyn and, soon enough, the work of fall planting.
Planting for Spring
There’s plenty to do. Garlic goes in now for next year’s spring garlic scapes, and thousands of tulip bulbs will be planted for early bouquets. I’m also trying something new this winter: forcing paperwhites and amaryllis indoors. I’ve grown them before, but never on this scale. It feels like a small way to stay connected to growing through the cold months,
and to offer something to my flower-deprived customers when the fields are bare.
The Quiet Work Ahead
The shipment of bulbs hasn’t arrived yet, but soon it will, and I’ll be back in the beds, tucking each one into place. Until then, I’m composting the frost-damaged blooms and turning the soil, making room for what comes next.