The Final Rows
- Debra Flaming
- Nov 3
- 2 min read
Monday, November 3rd — Today felt like turning a long-awaited page in our harvest story.
At 10 a.m., our faithful crew arrived, bundled against the chill, ready to face what we hoped would be the last big push. The morning light was soft and golden as we dug into the final two rows of dahlias—each clump a mix of soil, roots, and promise for next year’s blooms.
By afternoon, the field looked different—quieter somehow. With every lifted clump, the season’s effort became visible in neat crates ready for washing or storage. Mud-splattered boots, steady teamwork, and plenty of laughter filled the day. It’s hard to describe the mix of exhaustion and joy that comes from knowing we’re almost there.
Tomorrow, we’ll wash the remaining clumps, and then comes the patient, careful work of cutting, sorting, labeling, and storing—turning this mountain of muddy roots into thousands of healthy tubers that will rest until spring.
Each tuber represents a story from this season—a bloom that brightened someone’s day, a photo that captured joy, or a lesson learned in the rhythm of growing. Today was a milestone worth celebrating.
Lessons from the Field
As we reached the end of the rows today, I couldn’t help but reflect on the way God weaves lessons into the soil. The harvest may be nearly finished, but the work of the heart continues—patience, endurance, and gratitude for His provision.
If I’m honest, the stillness that comes after a busy season is not easy for me. I find comfort in movement—checking off lists, making progress, seeing results. But the quiet days ahead remind me that spiritual growth doesn’t always happen in motion. Sometimes it happens when I stop striving, breathe deeply, and let God work beneath the surface.
The field may look bare now, but beneath the soil, life is waiting—quietly preparing for what’s next. It’s a gentle reminder that rest is not wasted time; it’s part of the growing. Just as the dahlias must sleep before they bloom again, I’m learning to trust the waiting seasons too—believing that God is doing something beautiful, even when it can’t yet be seen.
Sincerely,
Debra Flaming
