New Life, Fall Fog, and Fresh Beginnings
- Debra Flaming
- Oct 3
- 2 min read
Updated: Oct 5
Yesterday, our hearts grew a little fuller as we welcomed our fifth grand baby into the world. Today we were able to drive to the hospital, hold her tiny frame, and congratulate our son and daughter-in-law. There’s something indescribable about cradling a newborn—like watching a miracle unfold right before your eyes. Baby and momma are both happy and healthy, and soon they’ll be heading home to begin this next beautiful chapter.
As if to match the newness of life, fall has made its quiet entrance here in the valley. Fog hugged the ground this morning, and the steady rhythm of rain carried through the night. The dahlias look washed and refreshed, each bloom lifted a little taller, their colors deepened by the moisture. I had hoped to gather blossoms for a drying project this afternoon—my Christmas shadow boxes won’t fill themselves—but for now, the flowers must wait until the sun returns to dry them.
Next week, we’ll also gather in the last harvest of lavender before winter sets in. And thanks to Dion’s steady hands and persistence, our tuber storage building is complete! Rows of containers now stand ready, and on Monday we’ll pick up the vermiculite that will serve as a cozy bed for thousands of dahlia tubers to sleep in until spring. Meanwhile, folks are signing up to join us for tuber harvest starting October 13th. Dion and I will be tinkering with the potato digger in the days ahead, making sure everything is running smoothly before the real work begins.
In the middle of all these farm tasks and business preparations, we’ve also been able to pause with friends for Bible study. These times remind us who we are really living for and help us keep our hearts in the right place. Life brings so many opportunities and challenges, but it’s God’s Word and His call to love others as ourselves that grounds us. A servant’s heart, even in the mud, rain, or sleepless nights, is the way to live life most fully.
So, as I sit with the fog outside my window and the memory of a newborn nestled in my arms, I’m reminded that both life and flowers need tending. Both are fleeting gifts meant to be cherished, cultivated, and shared.
Until next time,
Debra Flaming
