I have never really thought of myself as a ‘flower person’. I used to wonder why giving them was a gesture of adoration, sympathy, friendship, or welcome. They are, by their very nature, only temporary, their beauty fleeting from the moment they are cut. Fresh cut flowers just didn’t really make sense to me as being symbolic of anything long-lasting.
I’m not really sure what changed, but I have recently become enamoured with them: their delicate aromas gently floating through a breeze, the preciousness, holding them firm but gentle as though you were cradling a newborn baby.
My recent obsession (and my new job) led to my discovery of Dahlia May Flower Farm, just north of Trenton on a gravel road in the gently rolling hills of the Quinte countryside. As we walked up, my eyes were immediately drawn to the quaint farm stand, enveloped in stacks of florals, herbs and ferns.
Stepping inside revealed beautifully arranged pots lining the small walls of the stand, an intimate space made comfortable by the welcoming smiles of the staff, including owner Melanie Harrington. She was very kind and invited us to take a walk around the farm to explore the field and greenhouse.
If you ever thought flower farming was for the faint of heart, think again. The beautiful imagery that you double tap and scroll past on social media doesn’t tell the full story, but Melanie’s captions do. I recommend pausing every so often to read her thoughtful insights into the labour, worry and intense care that goes into these beautiful bouquets.
In addition to our purchases, Melanie generously sent us each with a few peonies, dusty pink and fragrant, carefully wrapped in brown parchment. I also picked up a string-of-pearls–it’s the plant with tiny green orbs on a slender stem, cascading over the sides of the container.
Have you been to Dahlia May or another flower farm? What did you think?