A Love Letter to Stewardship

Farming isn't maintenance, it's care for tomorrow

My Dearest Steward,

I write to you today because you are who I want to confidently be. When I think about you, Steward, I can't help but feel far away from who you are. I am a new flower farmer who inherited 1.5 acres of land that nourishes more than 1,200 varieties of daylilies.

The realities of my current season, such as not being born with an ag background, not having the education, and only recently realizing that I will probably be in the business of growing flowers that bring others happiness for the rest of my life create such a distance between us that it can be disheartening.

I walk a short distance from my house to the daylily farm and look out amongst the beauty that I didn't build. A beauty that has been entrusted to me and Colt. A beauty that I want to only make better.

I think of changes that I would love to make. Noticeable changes. All 23 beds have been weeded and mulched and all you can see are the glorious, healthy, blue-green foliage happily hanging like a perfect fountain.

With strong, thick scapes full of juicy, colorful blooms ready to pop at full potential. I see less linear rows of crops, and more of a garden experience complete with fountains, statues, and beauty enhancements that make you feel like it's the kind of place you'd expect to see in a home-and-garden magazine spread.

I see other perennials like irises, peonies, roses, and a cut flower experience just waiting for a bigger audience to love!

All of these grand ideas float around in my mind as I stare out across a land of possibilities that has been entrusted to Colt and me. But then I stop, and think of you, Steward.

All these amazing plans just disappear. Not because I don't want to achieve my dreams. But because I'm reminded that you define the purpose of my dream for Daylily Connection.

I'm reminded that progress and love are not found in grand transformations. They are found in small acts of care, repeated over time.

I used to think becoming you meant creating something entirely new. Adding fountains. Building gardens. Expanding experiences.

But lately, I wonder if becoming you has less to do with changing the farm and more to do with caring for it well.

Perhaps stewardship isn't measured by what I add, but by how faithfully I improve what already exists.

Changes No One Will Notice

Lately, we've been making changes around the farm. Nothing dramatic. No new fields. No major construction projects. In fact, many visitors may not notice the changes at all.

But that's the funny thing about caring for a place. The longer you're responsible for it, the less you think about big transformations and the more you think about small improvements.

A smoother path. A clearer sign. A garden bed that looks just a little more welcoming than it did last year.

The more time I spend here, the more I realize that you aren't found in grand visions, Steward. You are found in the little things.

When customers first come, they might notice that the carport where we check folks out has received some decor. Same furniture, just a couple little pieces to make it feel a little more comfy.

As they wander around our flower beds, they might notice mulch and weed barrier on certain beds to try to get a handle on the constant barrage of weeds.

Because we are currently afraid of herbicide, our daylily fans might see weeds that didn't grow before. They may not know that we are afraid of burning our beauties because we want them to be at their healthiest. So now, different weeds we didn't deal with before are popping up to scream "HELL-O!"

For those customers that keep their lists from years prior, they might be confused when locating flowers.We have moved some varieties around hoping to encourage growth. This means that we had to change up our Master Flower List to update locations. But we still provide a new copy for anyone who wants one.

One of the biggest ongoing tasks and probably the most difficult has been creating an entirely new website. It's been a couple of years in the making. The technical details-I won’t bore you with, but it is very detailed work.

If you haven't seen it yet, check it out:

www.daylilyconnection.com

I'd love any feedback from web designers—or anyone else willing to share ideas on how to make it better.

Other things our visitors might not see are the hours spent each day weeding beds, developing social media content, creating email campaigns, and having conversations about our vision for the farm.

The Legacy of Community

We inherited more than land and flowers. We inherited years of Matt and Sheila's care and a community that cherishes beauty. This loving act, my dear Steward, is the main reason I seek your guidance.

The farm didn't become special because of one massive project. It became special because of decades of small decisions made by people who cared deeply about it. This we reflect on constantly.

This land has been loved. It brings together people who don't just love buying flowers—they value beauty enough to spend their hard-earned money on something that isn't necessary, but meaningful.

All of this makes the responsibility of stewarding this land feel even more worthwhile.

There probably won't be a day when I stand back and say, "The farm is finished."

In fact, I hope there isn't.

Caring for a place means seeing possibilities everywhere you look. A corner that could be cleaner. A path that could be smoother. An experience that could be a little more welcoming.

Maybe that's what stewardship really is—not preserving something exactly as it was, but honoring what you've been given by making thoughtful improvements along the way.

One small change at a time.

Who knows, Steward? Maybe becoming you isn't a destination after all.

Maybe it happens every time I choose to care for this place a little better than the day before.

Yours truly,

Jessica

A Steward in the Making