Winter Work & Unexpected Blessings
- Debra Flaming
- Feb 24
- 3 min read
February has been unusually quiet here on the blog. But quiet on the page does not mean quiet on the farm.
Winter is never idle at Flaming Acres. It is the season of clearing, sorting, planning, hauling, and preparing — the unseen work that makes spring possible.
Behind the scenes, there has been a steady rhythm of decluttering. Old materials moved out. Equipment reorganized. Decisions made about what stays and what no longer serves the future we are building. Winter has a way of revealing what needs to be cleared so new growth has room.
And then came an unexpected blessing.
Just after Christmas, we were given a steel barn.
It felt almost too good to be true — a structure that will serve this farm for years to come. The only catch? Dion had to dismantle it piece by piece and haul it 25 miles home through busy highways.
He began working on it right after Christmas. Beam by beam. Bolt by bolt. Cold mornings. Long days. Trailer loads creeping carefully through traffic.
Last week, he brought home the final pieces.
What a gift.
And then — another surprise.
This weekend he was offered I-beams that can be used for the flooring and roof support of the structure. Another blessing… with another catch. Forty miles this time. Pickup and trailer. Highways and traffic once again.
I watch him take on these projects with steady determination. The barn is more than metal and bolts. It represents provision. It represents the future. It represents shelter for what we are growing.
Meanwhile, our Idaho winter has been unusually mild. While much of the country remains locked in snow and ice, we’ve had days that feel suspiciously like early spring. The fields call to us sooner than expected, stirring a familiar restlessness.
There is pasture seed now stored in the barn from a trip we took to Albany, Oregon. Much of the farm will be transitioning out of corn and alfalfa production and into pasture for grazing cattle. Another shift. Another long-term investment.
And we are still carefully working through the question of where our 2026 dahlia field will live.
Water is everything in the heat of summer.
Do we dig a pond?
Do we rely on gravity irrigation instead of sprinklers?
How do we ensure consistency when the heat comes?
So many decisions feel both exciting and weighty.
Inside the shed, I have been sorting through tubers in storage — checking, monitoring, protecting the investment of last season’s labor. I’ve been determining which varieties we need to grow more of in 2026, which means reaching out to trusted growers and securing the quantities required not only for planting, but for future surplus and fall sales.
This part is less visible but just as important. It is strategy. It is stewardship.
Shipping will begin to California the first of March, but we are holding steady with the rest. The weather across much of the country is still locked into deep winter, and I do not want to risk sending tubers too soon. Timing matters.
There is so much preparation happening right now — physical, logistical, and prayerful.
Spring is only a few short weeks away.
The barn beams are stacked. The seed is stored. The tubers are resting. The plans are forming.
We do our part — planting, hauling, preparing — but growth has always belonged to God.
“I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.” —
1 Corinthians 3:6
And so we move toward spring with steady hands and hopeful hearts, trusting the Master Gardener of our fields — and of our lives — to bring the increase in His perfect time.
With gratitude,
Debra Flaming
