Good morning!

I was going to send a reminder about tomorrow’s Pressed Flower Pumpkin Workshop, but something happened yesterday morning that made me pivot.

I was out by the road cutting stems from the Montauk daisies, the same bed where my poor peonies are still waiting for their fall transplant (don’t judge).

It was one of those just right Cape May mornings: crisp, sunny, the kind that makes you forget summer ever existed.

I look up and see an older woman walking down toward Townbank.

Now, those of you who know our road know it’s not exactly pedestrian-friendly.

You’d have to be part gazelle and part daredevil to stroll along that shoulder.

But she didn’t look frail and I thought, good for her, getting her steps in.

Until she turned up my driveway.

She tells me she’s lost.

And within two minutes, it’s clear she doesn’t just mean geographically.

I call the police, and kudos to the Lower Township officers, they came fast, spoke to her gently, and stayed until the ambulance arrived.

She didn’t have a stitch of ID on her. Just a confused expression.

When they drove off, I just stood there for a while, still holding my shears, thinking about what it means to grow old.

And …. here’s the part where I start philosophizing (you knew it was coming).

Getting old isn’t for the faint of heart.

And, I’ve earned the right to say that. I’m officially of Social Security age.

We all know what’s ahead: creaky knees, random pains, and the occasional search for our glasses while they’re perched on our head.

But what really gets me is how easy it is to assume there will always be another tomorrow.

That illusion lasts for decades. Then suddenly, it doesn’t.

Steve and I talk about this often — how our siblings think life will keep stretching on like a familiar road, when in truth, it can turn on a dime.

That’s why we went all in on this flower farm dream.

We wanted to live it, not just talk about it.

And every day we get to do this .. grow flowers, meet you all, and fill vases with a little beauty .. we’re thankful.

Speaking of living dreams, let me tell you about our granddog, Hughie. If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve seen his tiny, sausage-shaped majesty. (If not, here’s my little Insta tribute to him.)

He’s the sweetest thing alive until you go to touch his paws with the intent to trim his nails.

Then he transforms into a feral gremlin.

The vet won’t do his nails, the Philly groomers gave up, and we were running out of options.

Enter Melissa, owner of Carriage House Grooming right up Seashore Road.

We met when we just started our farm and then again, by chance, at a festival where I was selling flowers.

She said she’d give Hughie a try, and miracle of miracles, she did it!

She’s a dog whisperer.

And here’s the kicker — she used to be a pastry chef in New York City.

Now she’s a dog groomer in Cape May, living Her. Best. Life.

Chasing dreams isn’t always neat, and it sure isn’t easy.

But I’d rather be making a mess of my dream than living what Thoreau called “a life of quiet desperation.”

So if there’s something tugging at you .. a little voice saying “someday” .. maybe make that day a little closer to today. No matter what your age, but especially if you’re getting closer to mine.

We’ll be here cheering you on (and trimming Hughie’s nails in spirit).

Farm Happenings

Despite the shorter days, the farm is still showing off. The dahlias, heirloom mums, and eucalyptus are in full swing, and the flower stand is restocked daily with fresh bouquets.

Need something special? You can order a custom bouquet online, just give me 24 hours’ notice and I’ll make it beautiful. (Think of it as farm-to-vase service.)

The Pressed Flower Pumpkin Workshop kicks off tomorrow at 10 a.m., there are still a couple of spots left if you want in.

Tulip bulbs are still available for planting, but only until we start tucking ours in the ground soon. Once we start planting, that’s it.

And Since You Didn’t Ask…

I’ve been listening to Taylor Swift’s new album, Life of a Showgirl, and I’m not even going to pretend otherwise — I like it. A lot. Steve says all her songs sound the same, but then again, he thought Folklore was a documentary about trees.
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With gratitude and an achy back,