things

Flowers from the farm, a few from the city. The iris seems to me the high priestess. I would follow her around the globe. Back and forth forever. My bags are packed again, we're headed to Long Island for a wedding this weekend. It's hard to leave the farm, but at least I'm going to a place where I know what I'm doing. 

Weddings? I got you. 

starting to unpack

Years ago I had a art world boss who would talk about his red eye flights from LA to NYC. He would do a lot of cocaine and then 'pretend to sleep' and just let his mind race. My flight last night was like that, but sub the coke for camomile tea and a smushed piece of zucchini bread from Tartine that I resurrected from the depths of my pocket book mid flight. (My mom's is actually better). I can't sleep on planes, and red eye flights are my worst nightmare.

The past week in northern California was a furious one for Nicolette and I, filled with fast convertibles, hot tubs, great food, bold faced flower names and then of course the unglamorous schlepping hauling and hustling that goes with all of that. The ying with the yang, if you will. I am tired, beat up... and was thrown to the curb of my abandoned Brooklyn apartment somewhere around 6am this morning. Amazingly my houseplants all looked well, or at least a lot better than I do.

Tonight, starting to unpack all my pictures and dirty laundry I'm trying to make sense of it all. The students with their eager hunger -- I wish I had hours alone with each and every one of them. They inspire me to be better, to work even harder, to have more to give them. Juna, Meg, Courtney, Donna, Barb and everyone -- you are everything, the pinnacle in this crazy journey that is our work.

We will of course give you all the details soonest. But until then I wanted to impart an early thanks to all those people who I am truly blessed to call my friends in this flower fight and say a special thanks to my dearest friend Nicolette: you drive a mean mustang, and one day I'll learn my left from my right for the purpose of navigating. You are smarter and more clever than I could ever wish to be. I have never met anyone who loves flowers the way you do...with all of yourself and for no reason other than the immediate pleasure of bearing witness to their fleeting, ephemeral beauty. The luckiest florist.

addendum

I figured I owed you some pretty flowers for listening to me rant earlier.
I'm back in the city, and having just enjoyed some linguini with clams and a healthy dose of Beth Gibbons, I'm feeling like my old non-whiny self. Ready for anything. Oh shit, PM Dawn is on now!

Also, I don't understand pinterest.




Linguini with clams for one in 15 minutes:

boil water, add salt and a small handful of pasta.
steam 6 clams in just a little water till they open, not the ones with the dark penis, I don't know what those are called but they are sick

chop 3 cloves of garlic

drain pasta
remove clams, saving the few tablespoons of clam water in the pot
toss in the chopped garlic and 2-3 tablespoons of butter. yes.

saute just for a minute, not letting the garlic brown
chop the clams a bit and toss them in the butter/garlic, turn off the heat

put the drained linguini in and mix with lots of ground pepper

farm update

This past weekend we had our second spring work day at the farm. Such a difference a few weeks makes, the last work weekend was icy, this one was hot. We need this help more than I can say. I'm so grateful and amazed at all the people who want to come up to work in the dirt, learn about flowers and eat my mother's incredible poppy seed cake.

Last night I has this vivid dream. The girls and I were doing an event at the Barclay Center and we had to feed cereal to everyone in the stadium. There was a choice between froot loops and craklin oat bran (although the choice seems clear to me). Asheley was all suited up like one of those cigarette girls of old times, but instead of cigarettes she was juggling bowls, milk and cereal boxes. We were failing! People were shouting for seconds before we could move to the next section. It was just too much for the three of us. Then suddenly we said "why the fuck are we doing this?" people can go to the concession stand if they are hungry. And we left. And no one cared.

Yesterday I visited Agnes, the woman who used to own the farm. I met another woman there who was like a sentinel. She spoke quietly as I dug some iris up for her (and me). She told me about a daughter of hers who had passed away. She said quietly that it was because she tried to do too much. This left me feeling stung.



When I get overwhelmed sometimes I just need to cry, which, for an old robot like me is hard. Suddenly things feel so inflated, it's not just about delivering the wedding anymore or making things look the best. Now it's the constant fight with nature and also the fight to make two businesses financially stable with only income from one; and what might happen if in a few months...we run out of energy...resources...money. I resent the farm lately for making me a money head. I resent it for constantly needing more more more. All the craklin oat bran in the world wouldn't satisfy this beast.



Well at least we have this incredible tractor (thanks to you!) which Deanna is such a pro at using by the way. It's let us plant bigger this year, which means we're going to have to start selling flowers this summer. Which might be the way to earn some revenue for the farm. If it all works out. If seeds sprout, and we can keep them irrigated, and if we stay on top of weeds. And if we can figure out a good way to sell these flowers to flower lovers in the city and to my florist friends. It feels daunting, but I have to remember how Saipua began; no $$$, no knowledge and this feels about the same. Ha!



See you in the city this weekend, I'm escaping with my chickens. I'm using twine and flower wire to rig their brooder to the back of my pickup (which is full of flowers, clean underwear and asparagus) and driving back to Brooklyn today to teach a Little Flower School class and sell some bouquets for mothers day. As my friend Amy always says ...

LETS DO THIS

Growing flowers, selling flowers, music, Mothers Day

We're going to open our studio on weekends in May. It feels like the old days...when we used to play shop at Saipua. The novelty of it is titillating. People bring us baked goods if we're lucky. We try to find the most ironic music to play in our sweet little storefront; usually gangstar rap if Deanna has anything to do with it, dearest Asheley has a penchant for R&B; divas in general.



If I were at the musical helm this weekend in the shop it would no doubt be touture by Jon Secada. That's just where I am these days and I'm not shy about it. (Just Another Day?) But I'm working at the farm; so it's safe to visit Saipua this weekend if you choose; Saturday and Sunday noon-6pm.





Up here in the Mohawk Valley things are starting to really bloom; although we're two weeks behind all of you down there in the city. Going back and forth between the city and the farm is like time traveling.



Back in time at Worlds End our narcissus are just starting to peak. I'm waiting patiently for our double peach ones to open...the fritillaria melagris look stronger this year... hellebores starting to feel like real plants I can snip from a bit.



For mothers day I'm going to bring these first flowers of the season down from Worlds End to make a limited series of mothers day arrangements inspired by all our blooming Narcissus. You can order one of these arrangements to be delivered in Manhattan or Brooklyn for $250 by calling our studio t:718.624.2929 (limited to 10) or you can stop in over the weekend to put together something special of your choosing.





Lastly, I want to remind everyone that this Saturday not only is our second spring workday up a the farm, it is also World Naked Gardening Day. So, there you have it.

Happy Spring, Chickens!!!

P.S. Nicolette and I are going on our annual Little Flower School California Tour in a couple of weeks and we just posted a second class in OAKLAND, CA on May 21st.