What I Forgot About September (Until the Stand Reminded Me)

Last week, I stopped at the stand to look over the plants and nearly tripped over a rogue Morning Glory vine. It had snaked itself around a Cosmos and bent it toward the walkway like it had something to say.

I paused. Just stood there in the afternoon heat, looking at those deep purples and verdant greens tangled together. And I realized something kind of odd:

I forgot how beautiful September can be.

The “In Between” Month

September has a weird reputation, doesn’t it?

It’s not the splashy peak of summer. It’s not cozy-candle fall yet either. It lives in this strange in-between space where routines tighten, calendars fill, and energy shifts—but the flowers? They’re still out here doing their thing.

And every year, I forget just how much is still happening.

The Stand Has a Way of Reminding Me

The thing about running a little self-serve farm stand is that it reflects more than just what’s blooming.

It reflects me. My pace. My season. What I’m learning to pay attention to (and what I almost missed).

And It Had Something to Say

Over the weekend, I started clearing out the garden by the stand and doing work in the farm patches. The zinnias and cosmos were on their last legs. The ants were biting. And the gladiolus were doing their usual stunt—no sign of blooms, but I knew they were hiding their stalks somewhere.

Still, under all that chaos, little baby zinnias and cosmos were quietly sprouting up again. I even found some anemone plants I forgot to pull. And somehow, they looked stronger than the ones I’d babied back on the farm.

All this reminded me that September isn’t a throwaway month. It’s a stretch of time where color deepens, air thickens, and the blooms get bold—not because they’re trying to impress anyone, but because they’ve made it through.

It’s where marigolds glow like lanterns. Where zinnias hold court in the heat. Where cosmos scatter like confetti on stems.

It’s the month the stand garden gets moody—in the best way.

🫑 Wins, Fails, and a Few Little Surprises

I’ve had wins this week. Like my pepper patch suddenly hitting a second wind with the cool spell—it’s producing better than it did in the spring!

I’ve also had fails. Like realizing the second round of gladiolus may not bloom before frost. They’re still playing coy, and frost tends to sneak up by early November.

I installed irrigation lines (finally). I got bit by fire ants (again). I took inventory, joined committees, made too many financial decisions in the most expensive quarter of the year… and seriously considered throwing in the towel when I had to bring home a pile of unsold bouquets.

But one moment kept coming back to me: A person stopped by and bought the biggest bouquet I made this week—the one I didn’t overthink at all. Just pure whimsy.

That made me smile. That reminded me why I do this.

🐝 Maybe You Need the Reminder, Too

If you’re like most of the folks who stop by, you’ve probably been running nonstop. Back to school. Those sneaky sunsets getting earlier. That “how is it almost fall already?” feeling in your bones.

Maybe you haven’t noticed that the colors changed—just a little (hello orange peach tree leaves). That the bouquets got more saturated. That the flowers stopped rushing and started holding their shape longer.

Maybe you’ve been so busy you forgot that you, too, are allowed to bloom a little differently this month.

💛 Nothing Grand—Just This

Let September be what it is. Let it surprise you. Let it soften things.

If you happen to stop by the stand and take something home, I hope it reminds you what this month holds. But even if you don’t, I hope something—somewhere—taps you on the shoulder like that Glory stem did for me, and says:

“Hey. Don’t rush past this.”

If you want to know what’s blooming, what’s slowing down, and what’s quietly coming next, Join the Sass and I’ll send you a short update every week.

Nothing fancy. Just a few notes from the field—and maybe something small to make you smile.

💛Felicia