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Storyteller Seed Co

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Gardener, Sarah Eliza

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I spy a winters palette setting in. I crunched t

I spy a winters palette setting in.

I crunched through a frozen field just before sunrise, my breath catching in the air.

Soft frozen glitter catching on the light. The animals played chase and left a trail of foot prints through the garden.

Quiet prayers. A swirl of geese over my head, their wings drumming the cold air. The palest blue sky against a white earth with a streak of gold and pink.
All the petals letting go, the leaves fluttering to make starry paths. Gentle surrender to a new landscape.

The seeds are tucked safely in the greenhouse. I

The seeds are tucked safely in the greenhouse.

I spent Sunday afternoon harvesting every jewel I could find that was tucked in the garden. Sorting seeds, sorting thoughts. At 7 I went up to the house to get the girls ready for bed. Dinner and baths. I kissed heads and said prayers, pulling quilts up to their chins. Another log on the fire.

I pulled my boots back on and my jacket and slipped back out of the house down the path to the garden. Huge white clouds, bright stars. Cold wind. I worked until my fingers were bleeding.

At 10:45 Henry growled from his perch on the greenhouse floor. I heard two sets of feet running. Two little girls appeared, cheeks bright in the cold. “Mama! I woke up and couldn’t find you. What are you doing? It looks so pretty!”

They ran through the garden picking last bouquets. Scooping up all they could and tucked them into vases with me. At midnight we all went to bed. The girls laughing with tired smiles about sneaking out and having a starlight adventure. Secret gardens built for dreams.

We will sort for quality and packaging over the weekend. For now, I’ll just take it all in, a wonderful three season stretch of time well spent. Tomorrow when we wake up; she’ll be sleeping in a blanket of glittering ice. Beautiful endings of letting go and making space to change things, reshape, grow roots and rest.

The softest kiss from Jack Frost yesterday morning

The softest kiss from Jack Frost yesterday morning.

Savoring the last jewels of color. Last night I

Savoring the last jewels of color.

Last night I fell asleep to the sound of rain, this morning I woke up to fog that turned the field into an ocean of white froth. By the time the sun was up the flowers glistened and it was a brilliant fall morning.

I worked under a sky full of stars and billowy clouds clipping dried flower heads and full seed pods. The greenhouse is covered in dried flowers. The weather is teetering above frost, maybe it will, maybe it won’t yet.

Either way, we saved lots of seeds to share with you.

The days of this pretty view are numbered. The a

The days of this pretty view are numbered.

The anticipation for the day after tomorrow is a winter cape across the bare shoulders of the garden.

A garden is always lessons full of bittersweet.

Reminding you to loosen your grip from the things you can’t control. Turn your palms up in gratitude for what’s to come- and appreciate barren landscapes that let you dream up the very things you want to fill in the empty spaces.