At Fleuris, seasonality is not a trend. It is the backbone of how we live, grow, design our flowers, and share orchard treats.

To follow the seasons means allowing the orchard garden to set the pace. We do not rush tulips in December. We do not have red roses ready for Valentine’s Day or peonies in November.

Just as nature does, we move through cycles of growth, rest, preparation, and abundance.

From spring through fall, our focus turns to abundance and floral design. We design for homes, for beautiful inviting spaces, and to celebrate life’s most meaningful moments and the people you hold dear. We share our knowledge through floral design workshops and supply local florists looking for exceptional Island-grown flowers.

The beauty you see always rests on thousands of hours of unseen work. Quiet expertise. Observation. Adaptation. A deep devotion to the craft.

Seasonality is what makes the anticipation worthwhile. Just as we anticipate fresh strawberries grown with care and picked perfectly ripe by a local farmer. The kind that bring tears to your eyes when you bite into their sweet perfume, so different from the large, tasteless berries harvested too early and shipped across the world in January.

For those who observe and seek the true experience of nature, the seasons matter immensely.

Winter: Growing Roots

Winter is our quiet season. On the surface, the garden appears asleep. Beneath the soil, roots are strengthening. And so are we.

This is the work that happens behind the scenes. Winter is when we build the backbone of Fleuris.

I spend long hours at the computer with our two cats nearby, delighted by the company, planning and preparing for what will bloom next. It is the time to shape our calendar and begin filling it with workshops, while wedding inquiries start arriving and events take form for the months ahead.

I curate what will live in the boutique each season and connect with artisans whose work belongs alongside ours.

We prepare for our annual seed and dahlia tuber sale, stock supplies, refine systems, improve infrastructure, and test new ideas.

At the same time, we watch over thousands of seedlings and dahlia tubers, ensuring they remain healthy and protected. The studio slowly fills with trays of young plants. We sow in small waves and continue through the end of March.

Each seedling is tended daily. These tiny plants are the promise of spring and the summer to come.

Some special dahlia varieties are woken early to multiply or begin growth ahead of the season. They are potted indoors while the garden outside is still too cold.

Outdoors, we mulch beds and tidy what we can between rainy and frozen days, reducing future weeding while nourishing the soil.

It is still too early to plant. Experience has taught us that late February through mid-March can be deceptively cold. We have lost many seedlings by rushing.

Winter is also when we do our best to catch our breath and slow down. We travel to recharge and gather inspiration from new places, connections, and landscapes.

Patience is part of seasonality.

Spring: Awakening

Spring arrives quietly at first.

Hellebores and narcissus are among the first to bloom. Cool-loving seedlings move into the ground early, while heat-loving plants wait until soil temperatures are consistently warm. Dahlia tubers return to the earth when the timing is right.

As the plum trees blossom, we watch closely for pollinators to return. The timing must be just right. If blossoms open too early, pollinators may still be sleeping and fruit production will be limited. But when the rhythm aligns, abundance follows.

Bees move intensely between blossoms. The orchard hums with life. Birds reclaim their summer homes. Life begins to burst everywhere.

As the light strengthens, our ducks begin laying eggs again. They rest through the darker months and return to abundance with the season. All summer long we bake with their fresh eggs and freeze some to carry us into fall and winter.

Seed sowing and transplanting continue. Every day we observe the garden carefully. Who needs attention?

And when I say who, I do mean who. Our flower people are family. We care for them like babies, with patience, attention, and a great deal of love.

As the garden wakes, so does our floral design season.

Fresh arrangements and bouquets return. The boutique reopens. Workshops begin again. In our small farm kitchen, we prepare seasonal treats in small batches using as many ingredients as possible from our orchard garden.

The designing becomes visible. But it rests on everything happening beneath the surface and the years of preparation that came before.

PHOTO: Yumi Nagumo

Summer: Abundance

Summer is fullness.

Seed sowing and transplanting give way to deadheading. Removing spent blooms encourages more flowers, more colour, more life.

Harvesting flowers at the right stage is an art in itself. Timing matters deeply if flowers are to last in bouquets and arrangements. Each variety has its own needs. Some stems must be seared. Others release sap that requires separate conditioning buckets. All must be hydrated carefully and stored at precise temperatures to extend their vase life.

We harvest early in the morning while the flowers are cool and hydrated, pausing as the heat rises. Flowers do not like to be harvested in the middle of the day. In the evening, once the air softens, we return to the garden and harvest again.

Alongside flowers, we gather fruit from the orchard at perfect ripeness. These fruits become jams, baked goods, sorbets, popsicles, and small seasonal pleasures in the boutique.

Design work reaches its peak. Weddings, subscriptions, installations, workshops. Everything unfolds at once.

We adapt constantly to the weather, the soil, and what each plant needs to remain at its best. By September, we are ready for a short pause. We usually take a week to recharge before autumn arrives.

Autumn: Preparation and Preservation

Autumn carries both abundance and preparation.

As we continue harvesting, baking, designing, and tending the garden, our attention slowly shifts toward what comes next.

Beds are prepared for spring flowers. Soil is amended and rested. Bulbs and ranunculus corms are planted and tucked into the earth, where they will slowly grow through winter before blooming the following spring.

Then comes what I call the great dahlia dig.

Before heavy rains and freezing temperatures arrive, we lift thousands of dahlia tubers. They are washed, labelled, dried, and stored in ventilated boxes under carefully controlled dormancy conditions.

We tuck them gently to bed.

All winter long we check on them. We monitor for rot or excessive dryness and ensure proper airflow. They are carefully protected through their dormancy.

Later in the season, we offer our wreath workshops using botanical ingredients gathered and dried earlier in the year.

Then the cycle begins again.

Living With the Seasons

To follow the seasons is to accept that not everything is available at all times.

It is to honour rest as much as growth.
To work intensely when the garden is abundant.
To step back when the soil asks for quiet.

At Fleuris, seasonality is the rhythm that shapes our work, our offerings, and our lives.

And when I say we, I mostly mean me, with the help of a few kind souls and my husband, who understands that caring for all this beauty is far too much for one pair of hands.

We are grateful to share that rhythm with you.

From April through October, when the garden is in full bloom, its abundance becomes something we are able to share. During the flower season we offer seasonal bouquets and vase arrangements as one-time pre-orders or subscriptions, host floral design workshops, and design locally grown flowers for weddings and special occasions.