Wintering: Why January Is Not the Time to Bloom
Happy 2026.
Before we look forward, I want to pause and look back.
2025 was a truly special year at Carisbrooke Flower Farm, and none of it would have been possible without the people who showed up.
Whether you came to a workshop, bought a bouquet, joined a subscription, trusted me with wedding or funeral flowers, or simply told someone else about the farm, thank you. Small, seasonal farms grow through community, and I feel deeply grateful.
The Quiet Work of Winter
At this time of year, the flower field looks still. Empty, even. But winter isn’t absence. It’s preparation.
Seasonal flower farming means working with the natural rhythms of the year, not against them. In winter, nature gathers itself back in. Trees hold their energy close, even though their branches look bare. Buds are already forming, waiting patiently for the right moment. Perennials are strengthening themselves underground. Seeds and bulbs sit quietly in the soil, building the root systems they’ll need to support growth later on.
Nothing is wasted. Nothing is rushed.
And this season is just as essential as spring and summer.
Learning to Winter Too
Living and working so closely with the seasons has taught me something important: we need winter as much as the land does.
There’s enormous pressure in January to reinvent ourselves. To leap into action. To be productive, energised and full of plans from the first day of the year.
But nature doesn’t do that.
So this winter, I’ve chosen to follow the same principles I use on the farm. I’ve slowed down. I’ve lit the fire on cold, wet days. I’ve stood under glitteringly frosty skies and watched the moon rise. I’ve planned the flower field for spring and summer and planted both seeds and intentions, trusting they’ll grow in their own time.
Rather than forcing momentum in January, I’m wintering until the Spring Equinox on 20th March, when the light truly returns and the natural new year begins.
Gentle Jobs for January
Winter doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means doing the right things.
On the farm, that looks like:
Sowing sweet peas, snapdragons and lisianthus indoors
Adding compost or mulch to beds to feed the soil
Quiet, supportive work that makes future growth possible.
A Question to Carry With You
Seasonal flowers have a way of gently changing how you see the world. They invite patience. Attention. Trust in cycles rather than constant output.
So I’ll leave you with this question:
How could you start living a little more in line with nature in your own life this winter?
Sometimes the most radical thing we can do is rest, root, and wait for the light.