How Did We Get Here?
When we first considered moving to a smaller town, there was an order of events. My husband would find a position that he was interested in and would proceed to text me with, “what do you think?” Most of the time, likely as a silent ploy, he would attach an adorable local farmhouse for sale on 10 acres. As soon as I would receive one of these messages, I would immediately go to Google search. My first query was always, “What is the hardiness zone of ____ city?”
As a flower farmer, the hardiness zone was my top priority. Most of the job prospects my husband sent my way were in the Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire area. Although beautiful, I knew I would be forfeiting the cerulean skies and endless sunny days of Colorado for a completely different climate.
Then, in March of 2020, COVID hit, along with several summers of bad wildfires. I vividly remember isolating as a family, ash drifting down on our neighborhood like a light rain, and the skies feeling dark and apocalyptic. Like many other people during this time, we were scrambling, trying to figure out how to work, homeschool and survive in this new world.
My husband was running operations for two local hospitals, and I was working full time in medical sales while simultaneously starting a flower farming business on the side. The kids were thankfully becoming best friends and wearing out the trampoline we had just purchased. As the days and months of the pandemic passed us by, it became clear to my husband and me that it was time for a change. We longed for less stress, less time in the car, more outdoor adventures and more quality time together as a family. One day Gunnison Valley Health popped up on my husband’s job search and I received “the text”. We talked it over and decided that he should apply.
We visited in the heart of summer and booked lodging up in Crested Butte, during all its wildflower glory. I knew in an instant, I was all in. There were mountains, blue skies, happy kids, and lots and lots of flowers. I mean there were flowers…EVERYWHERE Purple ones, orange ones, pink ones, short ones, skinny ones, and even some so big they brushed your handlebars while mountain biking through them.
After a lengthy process, several visits, and a multitude of conversations, we decided to take the leap, and with that, I leapt into a new growing zone. I was ready for a change and extremely excited to grow my business, but hesitant about this move to a colder climate. This decision checked all the boxes, except the one I was most concerned about: the Hardiness Zone “box”. Zone 4. It felt completely daunting. Could I do it? Could I grow flowers here? On the flip side, it allowed us to stay close to lifelong friends on the Front Range and the majestic mountain landscape that we were used to in Colorado.
It’s been just over a year and a half since we moved to Gunnison, Colorado, the cutest little mountain town at an elevation of 7703 ft, and Janniebird Farm is finding its niche. But Zone 4 hasn’t been without its trials and tribulations. Whenever I mention that I am a flower farmer to new neighbors or acquaintances, their first question is always, “Do you have a greenhouse?” Shit…Do I NEED a greenhouse? I had always harbored a quiet confidence that I could grow flowers, Dr. Suess style: here, there or anywhere. I wondered, could I continue to do it…
in the cold,
truth be told,
at 7703 feet,
with no additional heat?
no greenhouse to cover,
for this flower lover,
and the other threat to fear,
no fence for those hungry deer!
(How’s that for Dr. Suess?)
I knew I could, and I knew I didn’t need a greenhouse.
The first season here was a bit haphazard, but I feel fortunate to have had a season at all. My original plan was to postpone growing for a year and focus on getting our family settled and unpacked. In the midst of a housing crisis we purchased an old, quaint, Victorian home in Gunnison’s Creative District. Although it wasn’t the picturesque farmhouse on 10 acres that my husband had lured me in with, it is the sweetest little house with so much history and character… and a HUGE yard (in which to grow many, many flowers).
“But I thought you said you weren’t going to grow in 2022?” Ok, ok, yes, I said that, but, you know, things happen for a reason… Feeling bogged down amongst the floor to ceiling boxes, I decided to go for a run and get some fresh mountain air in my lungs. A mere two blocks away, I slowed to a snail’s pace as I came across a salvage yard with a fenced in plot of land. I tiptoed over and peeked in…what is this space?? Hanging lopsided on the fence, staring me in the face, was a sign proclaiming, “The Seed Temple”! My mind’s wheels were spinning! Looking like a true stalker, I peeked in every door and window looking for the owner of this eclectic space. After several “runs”, and still no sign of a human being, I had to think outside the box.
I pivoted my feet several blocks in the opposite direction and walked downtown towards the local shops. I turned the knob on the Brickwerks store front. A unique clothing store grounded with architectural salvage furniture pieces throughout. While having a conversation with the owner, Claudia, the Seed Temple came up. She knew the owner, and his name was Joe Bob.
I called Joe Bob the same day. Within 24 hours, I received a return call, and I was on my way to meeting this “Joe Bob” character. Imagination running wild, I pictured him as an old farmer in well worn overalls with a long, scraggly beard, and a trusty, three-legged dog tagging along next to his mud clad boots. My imagination and the man that emerged before me were in stark contrast.
Joseph Robert walked out dressed in black from head to toe, with a stocking cap on his bald head and a warm smile on his face. His partner, Amanda walked next to him with an artistic style all her own. It was that day that we came to know our meeting was kismet. They had asked the universe for flowers and here I was standing on their doorstep. The intentions were mutual on both sides and suddenly, a 2022 flower season emerged out of thin mountain air.
Completely unprepared, with all my flower growing supplies buried deep in an ocean of brown, corrugation, I set to work. How could I make this happen? I had absolutely zero seedlings started. I decided I would grow whatever would bloom in 60 days or less. I also had to take into consideration the state of the soil. Inside the Seed Temple, the soil was decent. It had been planted with vegetables in previous seasons and there was even a cover crop on one of the beds. Directly outside of the Seed Temple, the soil was…well, let’s call it dirt. Tan, blowing in the wind, dirt. Chock full of rocks and not a worm in sight, this was going to take a miracle, or at least a few gallons of compost tea.
And so it began…Sunflowers, Cosmos, Zinnias, Phlox, Marigolds and Dahlias made the list. I planted the sunflowers, cosmos, zinnias and marigolds in the soil that was rocky and compacted. The dahlias received the royal treatment, claiming the bed that had been cover cropped. I sprouted up the few anemones and ranunculus that were staring up at me from their brown bags stashed away in the corner of the garage. And an impromptu trip to the Front Range had me feeling gratitude and love as I drove back with the tail end of the truck loaded down with hundreds of baby seedlings graciously donated to me by three supportive flower farmer friends. Snapdragons, yarrow, celosia, strawflower, and statice were all joining the Zone 4 party!
Truth be told, I had a great inaugural season in Zone 4. I have no idea if the weather was typical or unusual, but I rather loved it. The season was very consistent moving from cold, to cool, to warm and back down again. There were no drastic swings in temperature from snow and freezing temps to sunny 80-degree days. There were no hailstorms. And there was no wildfire ash floating down from the sky or threats of evacuation.
AND…there was no need for a greenhouse. Should I say that out loud? I don’t want jinx myself, but I really do think you can grow flowers here without a greenhouse. Crested Butte is the wildflower capital of the state, after all. There are so many flowers that love the cooler temperatures. Have you heard of Hardy Annuals? Well, that’s a completely different blog post, but trust me when I say, there are a multitude of gorgeous flowers that will thrive here and can even tolerate a little frost.
So, now, when I introduce myself to a new acquaintance, and they say, “Do you have a greenhouse?”, I stand up a little taller and say, “No. No, I do not have a greenhouse. By the way, would you like to join our summer flower CSA?”