Heart and Sol Farm

Hey friends, please say a prayer for your local northeast farmers. The recent hard freeze we all had the other day has fully wiped out an entire year’s crop for many of us.

While we focus on flowers at Heart and Sol Farm, we also grow food, like our English walnuts pictured here. Those little tendrils are the walnut flowers, and they’re totally destroyed.

The super hot weather last week pushed things to bloom, and the sudden hard frost this week ruined the entire season for so many farmers.

I know of many orchards and vineyards that are experiencing nearly full crop loss this week, and my heart breaks for every one of them.

It’s more important than ever to support your local farms. Thank you to all our subscribers, customers, and supporters. We appreciate you so much. 🙏❤️

The season of life we’re in: flowers and equipment. 😂🕺🏻❤️

Today we harvested our first tiny handful of blooms from the field, of course with a toy pickup in hand. 😂 Tens of thousands more flowers to come!

Be sure to sign up for our Spring Flower Club, starting April 4th. Link in bio! 💃🏽

Vulnerable Post Alert 💫

Back in October, I suffered a chemical pregnancy. A truly heartbreaking experience where one moment is filled with joy and dreams of the future with a growing family, and the next moment all that suddenly disappears as quickly as it began.

At the same time, the grief about it comes with its own complex layer of guilt and shame for feeling that way. “Was it *really* a miscarriage?” “5 weeks is barely pregnant, it didn’t even implant.” “If you didn’t test so early, you wouldn’t have even known.” “You already have a healthy son, be happy.”

I’m sitting on my patio, sipping coffee as the 5am birds sing. Today would have been my due date. What a beautiful time to welcome a bundle of joy. If only…

I’ve been sitting with grief recently that’s welled up and caught me off guard. I’ve mostly kept quiet about this experience. Most of my family isn’t aware of what happened. But I’ve come to realize that the only thing that seems to help is talking about it. Sharing how I’m feeling with all its complexities and knowing - as sad as it is - that I’m not alone in this grief. It often feels lonely and as if I shouldn’t be experiencing the emotions I am. And so, here we are.

I’m trying to be gentle on myself. Trying to remind myself that although it was a fleeting moment in time, that moment of joy filled with dreams of the future mattered. The daydream of snuggling a newborn on a beautiful June day alongside Luke and Dave was so beautiful.

I’m hoping someday in the future, that dream will come true. For now, I’m holding space for myself, and for all the other moms that have suffered this grief in silence. It f-ing sucks. You’re not alone. I see you and I feel your pain.

I’ll be spending today enjoying some much needed time with my family. Hoping that being surrounded by love helps heal my tender heart a bit. ❤️

Love to you all.
-Sam