Grown With Love

I’ve always loved growing flowers, and I’ve nurtured blooms wherever we’ve lived, however temporary. From window boxes on a balcony in Oxford, to planting a garden in a disused parking space beside our apartment in central Japan, to raised beds in our cramped Toronto back yard, I’ve always made space for a flower garden. After years of travel and city life, in 2020 we moved to Stephen’s family homestead, where our kids are the eighth generation of Robertson children to grow up in this old brick house on the banks of the Saint Lawrence between Iroquois and Morrisburg.

Where Stephen’s family farmed apples for generations, we are planting new crops and putting down roots. On planting our first roses, however, we learned why my husband’s ancestors called this farm Hardscrabble, and kept the name. The dirt, though very rocky and hard to dig (lending itself to no-till growing methods), is rich, and flowers grow and bloom well in the milder climate along the river. Tulips thrive here; roses bloom in profusion, and in spring the few remaining trees of the old orchard, and those we’ve planted to join them, burst into bloom. We found ourselves on a farm that grows flowers and decided to plant enough to share. Come visit!