Frostmas: A Flower Farming Holiday
Flower farmers have a name for the hard frost that ends our growing season …
Frostmas.
Frostmas is both a celebration and a heartbreak. It is joy and sadness holding hands. A slow deep breath. In. Then out. An end and a beginning.
And this year, Frostmas came twice.
The first time it brought with it stress, sadness, disappointment and resilience. In mid-September, we had to pivot as we lost hundreds and hundreds of our field dahlias to an early frost.
We were able to save the dahlias in our high tunnel, however, and the tunnel has been my favorite place to be over the past couple of weeks. Pink, purple, blush, orange … the flowers were like an explosion of bright gumdrops. A little bubble of bright beauty contrasted against the flat, grey green fields.
Frosty zinnias after our first frost
Thursday night, a hard frost came again - forecast to be colder and longer this time. John and I doubted we could save the dahlias in the high tunnel, but we covered them anyway and closed the tunnel up tight.
We were right - in the morning the thermometer read 24 degrees. Under the frost cloth, the temperature was 28 — far too cold for dahlias to survive.
And with that, on Friday morning, we had our second Frostmas.
This time, no flowers were left in the field. Nothing could be saved.
This time, Frostmas felt a little sad, but a little welcome. It wasn’t a surprise, instead it was an inevitable arrival.
We are now truly done with the fresh flower portion of farming. (There is still tons to do - but I’ll save that for another post 😉 )
Our field dahlias a day after frost.
It took me aback this year - all the emotion wrapped up in farming. The act of building something up over months and months only to cede it goodbye in a matter of hours.
From paper plans, to seeds and soil, transplants and irrigation, hours of care and work. The flower field transforms from a flat 2D surface to a living breathing space with height and layers, colors and textures over the course of the season.
In the cosmos, the evening before frost
And then it’s gone.
Frostmas.
It means the work has shifted, the season has shifted and now we have to shift too.
We can’t hold on to anything forever I suppose. Only appreciate it, live in it, share it, rejoice in it while it’s here.
In that way, Frostmas is a celebration. Of a wonderful, beautiful season of flowers.
It’s also a nudge toward our next chapter. Time is ticking. Days are shorter. Frostier days are coming. There is work to be done. Hurry!
Our tunnel dahlias hung on for two weeks after our field dahlias were taken by frost
