It’s beginning to get darker earlier. Have you noticed?

I’m a summer person through and through, but I have to say, this summer was something else.

The heat and humidity seemed relentless at times, and for once, I find myself more than ready for the cooler temperatures of fall.

It’s also locals’ summer here in Cape May. The crowds have noticeably thinned, the roads are a little easier to navigate, and the whole area seems to take a deep breath.

But while the traditional summer season may be winding down, that doesn’t mean the flowers are finished.

Our flower stand is still open and will continue to be stocked well into November, as long as the weather cooperates.

There are still plenty of beautiful flowers ahead of us, including eucalyptus, heirloom mums, and, fingers crossed, more dahlias.

We’re also beginning to look ahead to our popular winter wreath workshops, which are just around the corner.

Before long, we’ll be surrounded by buckets of evergreens, piles of ribbon, and that wonderful Christmas-tree scent that clings to everything.

And believe it or not, we’re already preparing to open our flower subscriptions for next season. It may feel early, but next spring’s flowers are already very much on my mind.

Next Spring Has Already Begun

Cleanup around the farm has been progressing well, and planting for next spring is already underway.

There are tiny seedlings germinating right in the flower beds now. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you might walk right past them. But I see the promise of next season in every little green sprout.

That is one of the things I love most about farming. One season is never completely separate from the next.

While I’m pulling out tired summer plants, I’m also making room for spring flowers. As the days grow shorter and the farm begins to slow down, something new is quietly getting started beneath the surface.

The farm always seems to be teaching me the same lesson: rest and preparation can happen at the same time.

Planning for Those Long Winter Evenings

The earlier darkness also has me thinking about how I’m going to occupy myself when we’re back inside by late afternoon.

You know those winter evenings when it’s pitch-dark at 5:00 and somehow feels as though it must be midnight?

I actually look forward to having a little more time for hobbies that get neglected during the growing season.

This winter, I’m planning to return to learning how to play the keyboard. I’d also like to pick up my knitting needles again.

I’ve read that learning new skills, playing music, crafting, and other mentally engaging activities may help support cognitive health as we age.

I’m not expecting one knitted scarf and a few songs on the keyboard to make me invincible, but I do like the idea of challenging my brain while creating something with my hands.

In a way, it isn’t so different from growing flowers. Both require patience, repetition, and a willingness to be a beginner. You make mistakes, learn a little, and try again the next day.

A Flower Farm Never Really Sleeps

People sometimes imagine that a flower farm becomes completely quiet during the winter, but our winter rest is much shorter than you might think.

Once the first hard freeze arrives, the flower field finally begins to settle. We’ll still have our winter wreath workshops through mid November and early December, but after those wrap up, there is a brief pause until Christmas.

Then the New Year arrives, and we’re right back at it.

Seeds need to be sown. Seedlings need to be watered, fed, and cared for. Some of our earliest cold-hardy flowers may be planted outside by Valentine’s Day.

This year, I’m also experimenting with forcing tulips indoors in hopes of having our own locally grown tulips ready for Valentine’s Day. It will be a bit of an experiment, and flowers don’t always follow the calendar we make for them, but I’ll keep you posted.

That is the funny thing about winter on a flower farm. From the outside, it may look as though everything has stopped. Inside, there are trays of seedlings, plans being made, lessons being learned, and an entire new season slowly taking shape.

Maybe the shorter days are not simply about having less daylight. Maybe they are an invitation to turn inward for a little while, learn something new, and prepare for what comes next.

The flowers do it every year.

Perhaps we can, too.

What are you planning to do as the days grow shorter?

Is there a hobby you want to return to, something new you’d like to learn, or a project that has been waiting patiently for you?