Transforming Flaming Acres from an Ag-Tourism Destination to Dahlia Tuber Farm. If you had visited Flaming Acres a few years ago, your memories might include navigating a corn maze, sipping apple cider, or bouncing along on a hayride. Our farm was built on experiences—fall festivals, school tours, and family weekends celebrating the beauty of the harvest season. We loved those days. The laughter of children echoing across the fields, the smell of kettle corn drifting across t

If you’ve ever visited Flaming Acres Dahlias, you know our farm doesn’t just bloom with flowers—it struts with feathers too. Meet our feathered fan club: one majestic white peacock named Lightning (with a shimmer of blue and purple in his train) and his entourage of three peahens. This year, two of those peahens decided to raise families… and let’s just say the stork was generous. We now have at least 13 peachicks running underfoot. Yes, you read that right. Over a dozen!

This morning at church was unlike anything I’ve seen before. Dion and I attended the 8 a.m. service, and by the time we left, the parking lot was overflowing. Friends who came to the service following ours told us that cars were parked in every possible space—even the islands—as we left cars were pouring in to an already filled parking lot. It was a vivid picture of hunger for truth in a world that feels like it is spinning out of control, where evil is attempting to destroy

Our hearts are heavy today. On September 10th, the day before our nation pauses to remember the sorrow of September 11th, we lost a young patriot, Charlie Kirk, whose life was cut short in Utah by an assassin’s bullet. He was only in his early thirties, full of promise and courage. His death, followed immediately by a day of national mourning, presses the weight of life, death, and eternity onto all of us.

Today I was out in the field, taking photographs and videos of the dahlias in bloom. The light was just right, the colors were radiant—and then a thunderstorm rolled in. Raindrops began to fall, disrupting my plans. At first, I felt the interruption. But as I hurried indoors, I realized God was offering me a gentle reminder: I am not the one in control. I make my lists, set my goals, and work hard to accomplish them, but ultimately it is His plans that matter most.

There is nothing more precious than time spent alone with the Lord in prayer, praise, and in His Word. Not because it is a duty or a box to check off, but because of a grateful heart toward the One who gives us the very air we breathe. “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord” (Psalm 150:6).

The air has shifted—mornings are cooler, evenings arrive earlier, and the fields are bursting with late-season color. After the long stretch of summer heat, the dahlias are lifting their faces again, renewed by the crispness of fall. Creation itself seems to breathe a sigh of relief, as if reminding us that every season carries its own refreshment.

More Than a Nursery: Franz Witte itself is worth the trip if you haven’t been lately. Beyond the cut garden, they are a full nursery for landscaping needs, with a wide array of plants, trees, and shrubs. And tucked inside is a charming gift shop filled with treasures for garden lovers. It’s a place where inspiration spills out of every corner.

Our Grandkids Every time I look into the eyes of my grandchildren, I see God’s handiwork—each one crafted with a personality, passion,...

The calendar has turned, and September has arrived—a new month, a new season, and for us here at Flaming Acres Dahlias, a brand-new chapter. Yesterday we officially opened the doors of our online tuber shop, and already we’re overflowing with gratitude. Every order, every note of encouragement, every new subscriber feels like a seed planted in faith—one that will bloom in time.

There’s a certain magic that happens when you walk through a dahlia field with scissors in hand and creativity on your heart. This week, that magic belonged to my daughter Ashley—our family’s bouquet artist—and my niece Nikki, who captured every moment in photos, video, and gentle questions as the arrangement came to life.

Every great farm has its own security detail. Ours just happen to weigh under 50 pounds, have floppy ears, and look like they’re grinning even when they’re napping. Meet Cooper and Gus, our self-appointed Farm Security Officers (FSOs)—two mini Australian shepherds who take their jobs very seriously… unless there’s thunder, fireworks, or a fairy princess in a yellow tutu involved.

Every marriage, no matter how strong, will encounter seasons of disappointment, misunderstanding, or hurt. Words spoken too quickly, unmet expectations, or even simple oversights can leave wounds that feel deep. Left unchecked, those hurts can harden into resentment—but God has provided a better way.

The Power of Prayer Every morning, before the sun peeks over the horizon, my 84-year-old mother does something extraordinary. She opens a...

“In a world where gardeners dream of pest-free dahlias, one flock dares to take matters into their own claws. Meet the unlikely heroes—21 hens on patrol—and their fearless, feather-flashing leader, Cock of the Walk. They scratch. They peck. They conquer. But beware: with every bug they banish, a crater is born…”

There’s a special kind of joy that comes with the first flush of blooms. After months of tending, watering, and waiting, the garden...

This summer I have spent countless hours in my flower garden—the one brimming with sunflowers, zinnias, cosmos, lavender, and all the...

Several years ago, Steve and Cathy came to our farm for the first time, simply to enjoy the flowers. Dion and I had no idea what absolute treasures these two would become in our lives. We tend to be loners—hermit-like personalities who like to do things ourselves—and yet Steve and Cathy pursued a friendship with us with relentless kindness. Honestly, sometimes I have no idea why.

There’s something quietly sacred about working side by side with the one you love before the rest of the world has even stirred.

Some days on the farm are peaceful—sunrise over the dahlias, the hum of bees, cows grazing contentedly in the pasture.And then there was yesterday. It started with a phone call:“The cows are out.” Not just a few cows. All of them.