Lessons in the Field
- Debra Flaming
- Oct 22
- 2 min read
Wednesday October 22nd, 2025
Yesterday slipped away without a blog post — and for good reason. We worked the dahlia harvest from nine in the morning until well past sundown. By the time I came inside, I was chilled to the bone and bone-tired from a full day of processing tubers.
My job at the worktable is to inspect each one — to check for an eye, evaluate its health, and decide whether it’s fit for the field or ready to sell. It’s slow, detailed work, but it’s also where I learn the most. Every tuber tells a story.
A Field That Teaches
The south end of our east field has proven to be a tough teacher. Tall poplar trees along the west side have been stealing its afternoon sunlight, and the soil there — heavier and more clay-like — tends to clump and hold water. The tubers we’re digging from that section are smaller, slower to form, and sometimes simply not viable.
It’s hard to face disappointment when you’ve poured a season of hope into the ground, but this is farming in its truest form: humbling, unpredictable, and full of lessons if you’re willing to listen.
The Learning Curve
We’re also learning about timing. Tubers can’t sit too long between digging and processing — even a few extra days in storage changes their condition. Our goal is to dig, wash, and inspect in quick succession next year. Efficiency and stewardship go hand in hand when you’re caring for living things.
The Heart Lesson
When we started Flaming Acres Dahlias, we dreamed big. We thought about blooms, beauty, and joy — not the rough edges and the learning curves. But real growth, I’m realizing, happens here in the middle of the mess.
We never want to over-promise or under-deliver. To those who’ve trusted us in this early stage — by volunteering, cheering us on, or purchasing our first tubers — please know that your faith in us matters deeply. We’re determined to honor it, learn well, and make it right where we need to.
“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”— Galatians 6:9
Grateful for the Hands That Help
Today I’ll face another day of processing much like the one before. The air is crisp, the sheds are ready, and I can already hear the hum of activity about to begin. In a few moments, friends will arrive — each one ready to lend a hand, share a laugh, and make the work lighter just by being here.
I’m so grateful for the faith and friendship that surround us — for the steady hands that help carry the load and the hearts that believe in what we’re building together. This farm may be rooted in soil, but it grows best in community.
Sincerely,
Debra Flaming
