The Secret Cost of Flower Farming

Most of the flowers on the farm look ratty right now. Tattered and bug-eaten. Dusty. A little embarrassing if I’m honest.

Cut flowers are not self sufficient. If they were, I’d be on a permanent vacation and this blog wouldn’t exist.

What nobody tells you when you start a flower farm is that the real cost isn’t just in seeds or soil or even the endless parade of supplies Amazon now knows to suggest to me at 2 a.m. The real cost lives in your head - in the never-ending lists, the juggling of three seasons at once, and the anguish of not only setting prices so they support the business, but holding firm and standing behind them.

Why does that matter? Because it goes into infrastructure, supplies, land, admin, tracking miles driven and stems that die before they make it to a bouquet - all neatly sliced into percentages that make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. People ask all the time, “Why are flowers so expensive?” and I have to resist the urge to shove my spreadsheets at them and say, “Here, you tell me.”

So today, I’m pulling back the curtain on what it really costs - both mentally and financially - to bring you those stems. Spoiler alert: it’s a lot more than sunshine and water.

The Mental Load of Farming

This is the part nobody sees when they pick up a bouquet at the stand: the invisible weight behind the blooms.

I am always two seasons ahead. My body may be cutting dahlias in September, but my brain is living in April - next April, to be precise, if not Mother's Day.

Currently taking up space in my brain:

• Collecting soil samples to send in for analysis - this tells me if I need to add any supplements to the soil.

• Planning next year’s bed rotations - this keeps pest pressure low so when the buggers hatch out they won't already be on their favorite plant (it's the farmers equivalent of not keeping the best snacks in your pantry).

• Ordering seeds - for spring, summer, and fall of next year.

• Testing out various versions of home-made-garlic-and-onion-scented spray to keep caterpillars off my snapdragon seedlings.

Even with my beloved project management software, I still go to bed at night thinking I’ve forgotten something crucial about next year’s plan.

The mental load isn’t about one big task. It’s about the thousands of tiny ones that cycle on repeat like your least favorite commercial. They pile up, like 47 browser tabs open all at once - everything is important, nothing can be closed, and weird music is playing and you can't figure out where it's coming from.

(I might add that my husband is the opposite kind of person. He has exactly ZERO apps open on his phone except the one he is using. Psycho.)

The Work You Don’t See

The truth is, most of the work is invisible. It's everything that's NOT plants growing in a field.

This month, for example, I’m applying for a grant from WNC AgOptions and the North Carolina Tobacco Trust Fund Commission to help pay for a walk-in flower cooler. That sounds fairly straightforward (not that grants are ever straightforward) until you realize it means I’m counting every stem that goes bad before I can sell it, assigning a dollar value, and calculating the cost savings a cooler would provide. That's just one tiny component of writing this grant application.

For my own records, I’m also counting every seed started, every transplant, and recording dates when everything happens. I'm gathering data so that next year’s decisions aren’t based on vibes alone. (Tempting as that can be.)

That’s the side of flower farming no one sees - and it’s where we start to connect mental load with flower pricing. The mental load is the invisible price tag on every flower.

The Emotional Load

This is the part I never really see people talk about - how emotionally heavy flower farming can be.

Every morning I wake up thinking about the bouquets I need to make that day, whether I have enough fillers, or focals, and fretting about caterpillars munching on my seedlings or whether I remembered to put out the groundhog repellant at the farm stand.

There are evenings I've been known to roll up to the farm stand, pull out my keys and just lock the doors. I don't even bring the bouquets back to the house to put in the cooler (currently the bottom half of a garage refrigerator. Clearly I need more space). It's just too much effort piled into my brain.

I feel guilty that I'm looking forward to October 31 when the farm stand closes for the season. Because as incredible as this season is and has ben, I am exhaustedly looking forward to winter. Time by the fire. A stack of spicy fantasy romance novels. (Yes, that’s my coping mechanism. Highly recommend.)

It's a rollercoaster of emotions because I DO love this season. I love the fall colors and the cooler weather. I love watching plants that languished in the heat start to perk back up and begin flowering again (um... hi feverfew, I thought you were dead). It's a constant battle between exhaustion and bliss, and that juxtaposition becomes an additional drain on my emotions.

To be fair, I think any activity can replace "flower farming" and it would be relatable. It's motherhood and the constancy of being chauffer, chef, personal assistant, nurse, therapist, warden, kisser-of-boo-boos, wiper-of-noses (and bottoms), personal shopper, maid, dishwasher, janitor... obviously the list is endless. And through it all you wonder if there's some small but crucial detail you've missed.

Is it woman thing? Maybe I'm spiraling off topic, but is the emotional load something that men in business deal with as well? I'm honestly asking and would love to know the answer because I - a woman - find it impossible to make anything I love an unemotional experience. Because isn't that kind of the point?

I think what I want to say is that sitting with what you're going through in the present, enjoying the wonderful things, feeling all the frustrating feelings of the hard things without wishing them away - that's where the magic is.

Why Flowers Cost What They Do

Here’s the thing: when you buy a bouquet from me, you’re not just paying for a handful of pretty stems wrapped up in paper. You’re paying for infrastructure, seeds and transplants, fertilizer, irrigation equipment, flower bed expansion, greenhouse repairs, taxes, land costs, and that tiny slice of profit that sometimes doesn't even make it into my pocket but gets rolled right back into operating expenses.

If we break it down by percentage (because I love a good pie chart), here’s where every bouquet dollar goes:

• Infrastructure – 10%: This is the unglamorous but necessary stuff - irrigation systems, groundhog fencing, solar panels, buckets, hoses, and the farm stand itself. Without it, there would be no flowers to cut.

• Planting Supplies – 15%: Seeds, compost, fertilizer, row cover, seed starting flats, support netting - if it goes in the ground or keeps weeds out, it’s here.

• Land Costs – 15%: Because land in Mills River isn’t free (shocking, I know). This covers rent, taxes, and the privilege of having dirt to dig in.

• Employee Payroll - 20%: at this point, I am the employee (don't tell my boss, but sometimes I wonder about her sanity). I am the one woman show. Employee Payroll that larger business pay is currently absorbed by the other categories. Mostly buying seeds. Kidding. Kind of.

• Admin Costs – 15%: Insurance, website fees, credit card processing, marketing, meta ads, and my indispensable CPA (hi, Lisa 😘).

• Profit – 25%: This isn’t “buying a yacht” profit - this is what keeps the business alive. It funds expansion, covers unexpected disasters, and pays me something so I can keep showing up next season. And to satisfy my husband when I YET AGAIN receive another "unexpected" seed order.

  
  

So when people say my bouquets are too expensive, I have to remind myself that maybe they just don't know what goes into a farming business, and that's not their fault. It's an opportunity for me. An opportunity to teach people what really goes on in agriculture, agritourism, and floral design. I get to help frame the conversation so people see the price tag and think about the "behind the scenes" at a flower farm, not comparing it to that Trader Joe's bouquet they bought last week.

The Mental Load + The Cost

Here’s the kicker: the mental load is pro bono work. You're welcome. Just leave the worrying to me.

Side note: Pro bono is shortened from the Latin "pro bono publico." Literally "for the good of the public." So yes, I am providing a public service by worrying. 😅

No one is paying me for the nights I stay up rearranging bed layouts in my head like a floral game of Tetris, or for the mornings I walk the rows taking mental notes, only to walk back into the house and promptly forget everything but know that there is SOMETHING I was supposed to write down.

But that invisible work is part of why your bouquet looks the way it does - why it’s balanced, colorful, and full of flowers you won’t find at the grocery store.

Why I Keep Doing It

For all that brain space it takes up, it is worth it every single time someone chooses my flowers for a big life moment.

Just this weekend, a couple bought one of my biggest bouquets, and then told me it was going to be their friend’s bridal bouquet.

I cannot describe the joy that seized my heart in that moment. All of the work, the counting, the spreadsheets, the dust, the mildew - it was suddenly worth it.

That’s why I keep showing up.

The “Off-Season” That Isn’t

People imagine that farmers hibernate all winter, feet up with cocoa, doing nothing until spring.

Wouldn’t that be cute?

Instead, here’s what my fall and winter look like:

• Replenishing and expanding beds.

• Digging and storing dahlia tubers.

• Sourcing soil, hay, nutrients, and deciding on cover crops.

• Reviewing the season and ruthlessly eliminating crops that I didn't love (looking at you, gladiolus).

• Preparing for wreath workshops, sourcing greenery, ordering wreath frames.

• Marketing, email writing, and social ad planning.

• Website updates and scheduling every event for next year.

• And, of course, ordering more seeds. (It’s a problem. Don’t judge me.)

What’s Next

If you want to see what the “off-season” really looks like, come join the fun parts:

• Holiday Wreath Workshop at Tiffany Hill – December 2

• Smaller Wreath Workshop Collab with Ivory Road – date TBD

• Farm Stand reopens December 1 with wreaths, greenery, and holiday gifts

And if you’ve ever wondered how to support your favorite local farms when flowers aren’t blooming, here’s how:

• Come to a workshop (it’s basically a flower playdate).

• Buy a wreath or gift from the stand - it helps keep the farm running through winter.

• Share my posts and invite your friends - word of mouth is huge.

• Follow Grey Dog Flowers on Facebook and Instagram

• Sign up for the Spring CSA (this is the only way to guarantee peonies).

Because even when the flowers sleep, I'm still here - scheming, creating, and building a little pocket of beauty in Mills River.

FAQ: Why Are Flowers So Expensive?

How long does it take to grow a bouquet?

Months. By the time I cut a stem, I’ve invested weeks of watering, weeding, and tending into it.

Isn’t it cheaper to buy grocery store flowers?

Sure - but they’ve usually traveled thousands of miles, were cut too early, and are bred for shipping durability instead of scent or variety. Local flowers are fresher, more unique, and support your own community.

What goes into the price?

Seeds, soil, fertilizer, irrigation, pest control, labor, marketing, and yes - the bouquet design itself. It’s not just “stems wrapped in paper,” it’s months of work.

Do you waste flowers?

Not if I can help it. Anything unsold is composted so next years plants can benefit from the added nutrients. And I’m applying for a grant to install a cooler so I can reduce waste even more.

Why should I buy local?

Buying local funds pollinator-friendly practices right in your backyard. You're supporting a small business that reinvests in the community, and by supporting a local farm, you're helping to keep Mills River rural by maintaining the historic land use instead of clearing the land for multi-family condos and apartments.