The Story of Pollinator Hill
Building a flower farm from the ground up
Rooted in flowers
My first real interaction with cut flowers was a cardboard box of dried zinnia heads that was gifted to my mom by a fellow gardener and flower lover. The instructions were simple enough; turn the soil, crush the heads, spread the pieces, and watch the magic happen. It didn’t take long to fall in love with those cheerful blooms, and that summer we harvested armfuls of bright pink, orange, red, purple, and yellow flowers. Five years later, zinnias grown in that same garden were the feature flowers in my bridal bouquet when Tyler and I said “I do”.
Those zinnias were just the start of a deeper calling. When I discovered flower farming, I was a brand new mother to a perfect, tiny baby girl. And, as all new mothers do, I was completely reevaluating my place and purpose in this world. My corporate job that I had worked so hard for suddenly felt like a prison, and handing my 8-week-old infant over to someone I had only just met was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I wanted to be home with her, but we couldn’t sacrifice my income. Tyler’s business was taking off, but we were still in that in-between stage of transitioning into a new life. I needed a way to make a living that didn’t take me away from home and from her.
It all started with a YouTube video
I remember clearly the day I stumbled across a well-known flower farmer’s YouTube channel. Lyanna was less than a month old, the spring weather was too cold and windy for a newborn to be out, and I was still recovering from a traumatic, extended hospital stay. I had exhausted all of my go-to comfort shows and was in desperate need of a little garden-inspired pick-me-up.
It was a simple video on putting together market bouquets, but it was as if someone had flipped a switch. Of course there were people out there farming flowers. Florists don’t just run around with snips, stealing roses from someone’s garden in the dead of night! (At least, the ones I know don’t)
In the course of a single morning, I became obsessed, and convinced that I had found my calling. I poured over YouTube videos and Pinterest articles. The rational part of my brain told me I couldn’t REALLY make a living growing flowers in rural Pennsylvania. The stubborn, determined part of me pushed back with a “Why not?”
By the time Tyler came home from work that evening, I was completely committed to this new dream. I’m pretty sure he thought I was crazy when I met him at the door; sleep-deprived, newborn in my arms, in all my postpartum glory (If you know, you know) and told him I was going to be a flower farmer.
To his credit, he did not immediately tell me I was insane. He listened to my babbling; he watched the videos, read the articles. He agreed to support me in this mission. There was just one problem – our less than 1/4 acre lot was completely taken up by our house, shed, septic, and a tiny vegetable garden. I had no where to grow the volume of flowers I needed.
So the hunt for land began
I started looking into rental options. But in a heavy agricultural region surrounded by Amish farms, open farmable land was hard to find. I spent a few months researching, planning, dreaming, and most importantly, praying; trusting that God would open the right doors for us. And late in the summer of 2024, the opportunity came to purchase a 20 acre parcel of farmland previously owned by Tyler’s grandmother; a dream he had held onto since childhood.
We signed the papers on our new farm in February of 2025, and less than a month later we broke ground on what would come to be my flower fields. I had big ambitions that first season, and was met by the rainiest spring on record. We received a staggering 12″ of rain in May, and June was no better. My seedlings drowned, but the weeds did not. Tubers and bulbs rotted in the ground.
When summer came, the rains stopped and did not start again. The drought took out the few plants that survived the floods, and the few bouquets I was able to scrounge together were unbalanced, straggly, and had none of that designer flare I wanted. It was defeating, and trying to fight mother nature with a level 10 clinger one-year-old on my hip humbled me very quickly.
I wasn’t ready to give up. All over the world, flower farmers were facing the same challenges and coming out on top. If they could do it, why couldn’t I?
Back to the drawing board
I re-thought my whole plan, changed my farming methods, and consumed any educational content I could find. I was determined to be ready for whatever 2026 had to offer.
I don’t consider 2025 to be my first real season. There were just too many things that went wrong, and not enough successes. But I’m jumping into the 2026 season fully committed, trusting God’s plan for our little farm. I’ve seen first-hand the powerful impact of local flowers, and I can’t keep that to myself. I can’t wait to see what God will do through me and my beautiful blooms.
The Best is yet to come!
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