In 2025, we won't take a good time for granted.
Happy New Year, friends. I know 2024 was a doozy for many of you, the latest in a long line of doozies. It's just a doozy of a time, isn't it. Seems like everyone I know faced multiple challenges last year that ranged from the pedestrian to the existential, usually more than one at a time. I expect I'm not the only one taking stock of now vs. this time last year and wondering, Gracious, how did we get here?
Earlier this year (last year, I suppose, in 2024), I had to stop watching Our Flag Means Death, a TV show I was otherwise enjoying, when one character turned to another and said, "Guess you never know when you're in the middle of the good old days." It felt too intimate a take, like either they were seeing out of the TV and into the shifting terrain of my life, or else I am so common, the line so universal, that I'm just one of many who's missing the good old days because we're yearning for the good old days.
Are there people with static lives, or is everyone's life built on shifting sands? I suspect it's more the latter than the former, though perhaps from the outside the changes appear imperceptible instead of insurmountable as they may feel on the inside. Maybe there are years of stasis, and possibly to the outside eye my life seems static, but from the inside it's felt like living on the treadmills of OK Go's Here It Goes Again video: we party on despite the effort and the odds.
That's sort of the key, isn't it? Keep finding the fun where you can. I firmly believe in parties, and not only because I have a vested interest in people decorating for them (though if you want to make your next party beautiful, you know who to call). Parties disrupt normalcy, creating more memorable circumstances because they're unusual. They help us delineate time. They require a certain alchemy of commitment: too many and they become the normal time, too few and we forget how to do them.
Anything can be a party. A party for one, especially with a wild dance party, can be healing. Parties for two or three were easier to come by when it was the norm to pop over unannounced to your neighbor's. A dinner party, potluck or prepared, can lay the foundation of new friendships. Wild nights have their place too, though I don't seek them out the way I once did. A party is anywhere we meet each other in levity for a brief span of time. It doesn't require an invitation, though it does require inviting one another in.
I took parties for granted until the Covid lockdown era. Though I'll be the first to admit I didn't miss any of it for over half a year, once I realized the lack, it became an acute social pain. I felt clumsy with my interactions when they did happen, as if holding something too big for my hands. I got really into my head about how I was performing, something I'm still trying to shake off. It's become much more difficult for me to stay in the moment-- but this is the magic of parties. They invite us to pay attention to this specific fleeting moment, the good old days unfurling before us. Even in the doozy years, we can practice having fun.
Speaking of things we take for granted, we had a real education in not doing so this past season. If you follow us on Instagram and Facebook, you've hopefully seen our countdown of biggest lessons learned in 2024. There were a lot of contenders for ranking, but there was no contention for which lesson was No.1. It was the first thing that sprang to mind, the biggest lesson we've been handed as flower farmers so far.
Lesson 1: Zinnias aren’t infallible. Oh, the zinnia! The humble flower that started it all for The Flower Girl. They grew so easily in our garden for years, we never questioned our success. 2024 dealt us a two part blow: first, drought, second, a secret snacker who ate the tops off so many baby zinnias. Zinnias are notoriously hardy and unpalatable so drought and pests usually don’t faze them. Turns out anything can happen when it comes to gardening, and each year brings things the past year could never anticipate. We’ll never take zinnias for granted again. They are too special too us.
What will you not be taking for granted in 2025? There's a question for you to ponder along with all the others-- whether to do resolutions, what theme word to pick, which color you wish Pantone had gone with instead of mocha mousse? (Personally I do a list of goals for the year mostly erring on the whimsical/practical side of things, and I pick a theme word. This year will be Link. Also I wish Pantone had picked a good yellow for the year, though I'd eat a mocha mousse any day of the week).
I hope your new year is off to a fun start. The newsletter will be just a simple note for the month of January as we take a step back from social media for a few weeks to hit the refresh button. Garden tips and more will return in February.
Cheers to a less doozy year!
Meg