We’ve very much been taken with my son Stephen’s girlfriend, Addison.
I’ve written about her before, her artistic talent is truly insane, and after more than a couple of years together, it feels safe to say she’s officially woven into our family fabric.
Early in their relationship, we got to meet and know her parents over dinner. They live in Pennsylvania, so we haven’t seen them since, but June (Addi’s mom) follows our little Cape May flower farm on Instagram and has even purchased flower subscriptions from us, which already tells you she’s good people.
Around the holidays, we’ve fallen into this sweet rhythm of sending gifts back and forth, passed through our kids like a very gentle, very loving relay race.
This year, June sent over a handful of thoughtful things, but one stopped me in my tracks: a handcrafted seashell Christmas tree ornament.
She does this beautiful decoupage-style work, and for us, she used our actual family photo from this year’s Christmas and worked it right into the design.
I was so touched.
It’s the kind of gift that doesn’t just sit there looking pretty, it means something.
The kind you pull out year after year and instantly remember exactly who you were, what that season felt like, and who was sitting around the table.
And I’ve noticed, as I get older, I want fewer “things” and more meaning.
Less stuff, more symbolism.
More moments captured.
More reminders of experiences that made me feel happy, connected, grounded.
Is that an aging thing? Or are you seeing it too, that quiet shift from wanting things to wanting experiences?
Flowers do that in their own sneaky, wonderful way.
I can’t tell you how often someone leans into a bouquet of sweet peas at our farm stand and says, “Oh my goodness… my grandmother used to grow these.”
Or how lilacs stop people mid-sentence.
Or how garden roses trigger stories about wedding days, backyard gardens, or hands that taught them how to deadhead.
Flowers have this uncanny ability to unlock memory, joyful ones, comforting ones, the kind you didn’t even realize were still tucked away.
That’s one of the reasons we grow what we grow here at Seashore Flower Farm.
It’s not just about stems in a jar (though those are lovely too).
It’s about sending people home with something that feels like something.
A scent.
A color.
A moment that lingers long after the flowers themselves have faded.
Those are my favorite gifts.
The ones that last… even when they’re gone.
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