I keep thinking that it's frivolous to write about our days when the list of what I should/could actually be accomplishing is at least 3 pages long, and even most of those things never get done in any sort of timely manner. That, and Andrew thinks our days are not very exciting. To be honest, they really aren’t, at least not in the way that any sane person would find exciting (unless you count the bunny sightings in the dahlia patch, but even this got old after a week [and after the bunny stopped being cute and became a rabbit who chews holes in our irrigation]).
But it’s been a year since we started this little adventure together, and I often wish I’d written down some thoughts along the way already. A few weeks ago Andrew and I looked back through our calendars and our Instagram to see if we could figure out the day we became CHICORY. It was never something that had ever crossed my mind in the beginning, to start a flower farm. I just thought we’d be two friends who liked to grow flowers, and then maybe we’d give them away to our friends, or just feel grateful for the opportunity to make something beautiful in a place that didn’t have much of that (much of anything, really). That the two of us would ever get our act together to be in the business of flowers seemed laughable to everyone, including us.
Yet here we are. One year (and a few weeks) after we had coffee together outside a little café in West Philadelphia, with a red pickup truck full of flowers parked down the block. When people ask us how we started, that’s really the story. We were spending our early mornings before going to work at "real" jobs by growing flowers on a vacant city lot, and then one morning we decided wanted every day to be like that. It’s cheesy, and a bit like My Best Friend’s Wedding, when Hugh Grant finally realizes he’s in love with Julia Roberts.
I really love the image of our flower field above. We sent it to Erin to use on her blog for Floret, and it wasn't until after she posted it that I realized there's a trashed fast food bag in the middle of the aisle underneath the dangling amaranthus.