I recently learned that the summer solstice is linked to the concept of a ‘honeymoon’. The summer solstice marks the longest day and shortest night of the year, as Earth is tilted closest to the sun. Historically, the summer solstice was considered a kind of holiday since it fell between the periods of planting and harvesting, which meant those who worked the land had time to slow down and rest during the growing season. For this reason, many weddings took place around this time, the word ‘honeymoon’ comes from the Honey Moon, the full moon in June, so called because people believed it was the best time to harvest honey.
For this reason, I’ve embraced this time as a ‘honeymoon’ period, as Tiny Meadow, our cut flower farm, is between sowing and harvesting. While there is still work to be done (weeding, deadheading, watering during this summer drought), I’ve allowed myself to slow down, celebrate rest, and appreciate the season amidst the high-energy summertime pressure often felt subliminally. For our summer solstice celebration at Tiny Meadow, we had a garden party among the fireflies highlighting summer staples — elderflower, strawberry, and rose.
This honeymoon of sorts is also meant to make space for one of my favorite pastimes here in the Appalachians, which is to be in the mountains. I also lovingly refer to this time as ‘becoming moss’. When I’m lucky enough to do so, this means spending hours in the mountains, sitting quietly in a coveted spot in the soft grass surrounded by trees, and noticing the subtle shifts of light and shadow as the sun moves above me. I’m always amazed how four hours easily feel like one during this time.
This time I visited Roan Mountain and Grassy Ridge Bald which are part of the Roan Highlands — this area is home to several endemic plant species, meaning they exist nowhere else in the world.
Along the way, I noticed the elderflowers starting to fade while countless blueberries formed large round patches, their fruits still small and dusty grey now but will soon turn a deep blue in a few weeks — I make myself a mental note to come back in a few weeks with a basket. We spotted several endemic plant species - Grays Lilly (Lilium Grayi), Roan mountain Goldenrod (Soldago Roanenses), and Blue Ridge St. Johns Wort (Hypericum buckleyi).
As we climbed in elevation, things started to feel different, somehow quieter, greener, and more holy -there is a feeling of crossing a threshold into another realm - which in actuality you are stepping into another ecosystem the higher you climb. At a certain elevation, the environment of Roan Mountain is similar to the Boreal forests of Canada with a similar subalpine ecosystem and coniferous trees - like spruce and fir all around.
At the summit, I found myself surrounded by Catawba Rhododendrons, shedding their flowers greatly now that summer is here, the air filled with the buzz of pollinators. Their neon pink petals all over the mossy and grassy forest floor, reverberating pink against the green. Once I got to Grassy Ridge Bald, I crossed paths with a doe several times, gracefully navigating its trail through the green and pink, grazing.
The time spent here was spent in admiration of the interplay between tall grasses, and dots of color, green moss as negative space for the pops of pink rhododendron petals, and tiny blue and white flowers among the rocky outcrops. These hikes feed my inspiration as a floral designer and indirectly inspire the plants I cultivate at Tiny Meadow.
When it comes to floral designs, I’ve always favored naturalistic and untamed, as opposed to uniformity, cleanliness, and control. I often feel everything we need to know about what people call innovative in the floral industry is already out there, in nature waiting for you to find it.
Back at Tiny Meadow:
The weather has been hot and dry the past few weeks with a small handful of rainshowers, which means that growth has been slower than normal.
Despite this, I’ve had my first official harvest at the farm, buckets of Calendula, Blushing Lanterns, Larkspur, and Phlox. - I was able to create my bouquet subscription orders using all the flowers from the farm, and the feeling of designing with all the plants I’ve grown, and developed a kinship with felt so incredibly satisfying and natural as opposed to the endless fidgeting with straight stems from the wholesaler.
We cut down the cover crop on half the growing space and are planning to cover it, and then plant a fall cover crop. In the interim, we’re keeping our eye out for pests as we suspect that rabbits have been enjoying our clover cover crop so much, that they haven’t been interested in any of our seedlings.
The biggest news: foxglove has bloomed and it’s glorious.
By month’s end, I should have swaths of flowers to harvest, so keep an eye out for upcoming opportunities including a CSA, Flower Truck Pop-Ups, and a possible flower-arranging workshop!
Lastly, I’ve been low-key working on a large-scale flower installation at Revolve Gallery. This installation will be fully foraged or sourced from what’s growing at Tiny Meadow. It will be open to the public for anyone who’d like to see it in person but that date is tbd.
May you take this time to rest and reset, and give yourself a little honeymoon too.
—Rowen
