Farm Update: Growing Through June

The past few weeks here at Flaming Acres have been full.

Full of growing things.

Full of family.

Full of work.

Full of moments that have reminded me just how precious each day truly is.

Since planting the dahlias and flower gardens in May, the farm has settled into its early summer rhythm. Every day seems to bring another task that simply cannot wait.

This June, however, life away from the fields also called for our attention.

Following my father's passing on June 14, much of my time has been spent caring for my mother, being with family, and beginning the long process of mourning someone so deeply loved. Those moments have been where I needed to be.

Because of that, Dion has been carrying much of the workload here on the farm.

Summer irrigation is now in full swing, and keeping nearly six thousand dahlias growing through Idaho's early summer heat is no small task. Day after day he has been moving sprinkler pipe, setting siphon tubes, checking water flow, and making sure every field receives the moisture it needs. Watching him faithfully care for the farm has reminded me once again what a wonderful partner God has given me.

While Dion has been tending the fields, I've focused on keeping our home garden thriving. The raised beds dry quickly in the summer sunshine, so watering has become a regular rhythm every few days. I also decided it was finally time to transplant everything that was still growing in pots into the garden where the plants could really stretch their roots.

One of our biggest June projects was planting nearly 400 pine trees.

For several years they had been growing patiently in our nursery area, waiting for the right time to find their permanent home. This month that day finally came. We planted them around the perimeter of the park area where this year's dahlias are growing. Someday they'll provide beauty, shade, and shelter for generations to come. Like so much of farming, it's work done today for a future we may only partly see.

Across the dahlia field, the rows have changed dramatically since planting. Most of the tubers have now sprouted and are growing into healthy young plants. Before long they'll be ready for topping, an important step that encourages stronger plants and many more blooms later this summer.

The dahlias I started in the greenhouse have handled the transition beautifully. I'm thankful to say I didn't lose a single plant during transplanting, which always feels like a small victory.

The cutting garden has already begun rewarding us.

My daughter and granddaughters have been coming out each week to gather flowers together, and those afternoons have become some of my favorite moments this month. The girls planted their own rows of sunflowers and zinnias, and they're growing wonderfully. I love watching them discover that gardening doesn't have to be complicated. Zinnias and sunflowers are generous teachers—strong, cheerful, and forgiving. They're perfect flowers for young gardeners.

The undisputed star of the garden right now, however, is the lavender.

Both the purple and white varieties are in bloom, but the white lavender especially catches my eye. Its soft blossoms seem to glow in the evening light, and the fragrance drifting through the garden is simply wonderful. Sometimes I find myself lingering there just a little longer before heading back inside.

After several days of intense heat, we were blessed with a gentle June rain today. Everything seemed to sigh with relief. The gardens stood a little taller, the fields looked refreshed, and once again I found myself thankful for both the rain God sends and the irrigation systems that help carry us through the dry days.

There is something deeply healing about caring for growing things.

Perhaps that's one reason I have found myself spending extra time outside these past few weeks. Hoeing weeds. Checking young dahlias. Walking the rows. Watching new growth appear where only bare soil existed a month ago.

Dahlias, of course, remain the divas of the farm. They demand attention almost daily and aren't shy about letting you know when something isn't quite right. But maybe that's part of why their beauty feels so rewarding each autumn.

The simpler flowers seem to have their own lesson to teach as well. The zinnias and sunflowers don't ask for nearly as much. They simply grow, bloom, and bring joy. This week the girls gathered a beautiful June bouquet that now sits in my home, reminding me that sometimes the simplest flowers are every bit as beautiful as the most demanding ones.

When I'm not outside, I've been spending many hours writing.

I'm continuing to work on the story of my parents' lives—a journey of faith, hardship, war, immigration, and God's remarkable faithfulness through every season. As I write, I find myself living with their stories all over again, discovering details that fill me with wonder and gratitude. It has become one of the greatest privileges of my life to preserve their history for future generations.

June has reminded me that life is often made up of joy and sorrow woven together.

While one chapter of our family has come to a close, new life continues to rise all around us—in the fields, in the gardens, in the laughter of grandchildren gathering flowers, and in the quiet faithfulness of another ordinary day on the farm.

For all of it, I am grateful.

Thank you for following along on this journey with us.

Until next time,

Debra Flaming

Flaming Acres Dahlias