I have a few more days of solitude here at the beach. Tim arrives on Saturday and we’ll spend a week together before returning to Nashville. We can’t wait! I made my last bike ride to the market this morning. I’ll take the shuttle to Progreso one more time to purchase flowers. I’m hoping for a better selection this week. Shopping for flowers the day after Valentine’s Day was pretty disappointing. 

Usually at this point in my stay, I start to panic. I see the time slipping away and I dread returning to “the real world.” The last few years have been rough. I’d spend the first two months of the year trying to avoid the winter blues by escaping Nashville. It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows; some days I was overwhelmed with despair over what awaited me at home. Managing a very busy retail greenhouse in spring was an all-consuming chaos. Work was my first conscious thought every morning and the last thing on my mind before succumbing to sleep every night. Even in my dreams, I couldn’t escape the stress of work. When things finally calmed down in the summer, I spent 40 hours a week working in triple-digit heat indexes. The heat drained every last drop of energy from my body and I had nothing to give my giant cutting garden at the end of the day; the one extracurricular activity that brought me respite and joy. Our two-ish months of fall temperatures were a much needed relief. Then the shorter days in November and December were cold, wet, and, with my seasonal depression taking hold, miserable.

When I first started working at Bates, I thought gardeners were the friendliest and happiest people on the planet. Sure, we had cranky customers, but they were few and far between. But Nashville’s growth has exploded over the last several years. People who’d been able to grow anything in California expected those same growing conditions in Middle TN, and they didn’t like hearing the plant advice I gave that contradicted their beliefs. Then along came Covid. It created an insatiable thirst for gardening and plants. There were more customers to satisfy, and more plants to care for. We lived in an Amazon world of instant gratification, which is the antithesis of life in agriculture. More often than not, I left work feeling my failures outweighed my successes. Last year, the stress forced me back into counseling. Then there was some work drama I would never have anticipated. I realized things had to change when I needed a glass of wine after work most days to calm my nerves. I didn’t think I was ready to ditch a steady paycheck and make this leap of faith to pursue my dream, but I also didn’t think I could afford to stay where I was.

I have no delusions that life as a flower farmer and florist will be carefree and picture-perfect. I know this is going to be hard work and will likely kick my ass most days. At times I will be exhausted and overheated, or freezing and wet. I’ll also have to contend with the plague of cicadas this year. GROSS. I’m sure I’ll encounter cranky customers along the way. But growing flowers and using them to create beauty fulfills me in ways I can’t explain. And seeing joy on the faces of people who receive my flowers inspires hope for a better tomorrow. Though leaving the beach at the end of the month will be sad, I won’t be filled with dread about my return to civilization this year. I’m looking forward to spring for the first time in years. 

I don’t know when you will hear from me again. Tim will be with me next Monday, and when I get back to Nashville, I will hit the ground running with hardy annual plugs to plant and summer annual seeds to sow. I’ll see you when I see you!