False Spring, Root Work & Necessary Pruning

There’s something about a false spring.

A few warm days. The light shifts. The air softens. You can almost believe winter is over — but you know better. There’s still cold ahead. Still work to do underground.

That’s what this season has felt like for me.

I’ve been quiet — not because nothing is happening, but because everything is.

Most days begin early. A slow morning routine. Breakfast. Devotional. A workout to ground myself before the day begins. Then I step into work — often stretching into PST hours — learning, growing, giving my very best in this season of my career.

After dinner and family time, I usually head right back into another layer of work — timelines for brides, administrative details, sourcing, planning, dreaming. Two or three evenings a week are spent building the foundation for weddings you won’t see until months from now.

And in the margins? We’re building out a proper workshop in the basement. Starting seeds. Mapping garden plots. Preparing for the growing season. Planning every detail for my 2026 brides (I truly cannot wait for this year’s weddings — they are going to be so beautiful).

But beneath all of that activity, something even more important has been happening.

Reflection.

This has been a huge season of asking hard questions about the business.

What are we keeping?
What are we letting go of?
What is actually worth the labor, time, and energy it requires?

If something is not profitable, life-giving, or aligned — it’s being cut.

Not dramatically. Not emotionally.
But intentionally.

Just like pruning a plant before the growing season, I’ve been trimming what taxes the roots so the right things can flourish. Some offerings are shifting. Some systems are simplifying. Some things are ending so better things can grow.

And in that pruning, I’ve also rediscovered something tender.

Herbalism.

Long before Bede’s Blooms became what it is today, it began as Bede Botanical + Co. That is still our LLC name — because this business was originally founded on medicinal health and healing through herbs and botanicals. Flowers were never just aesthetic to me. They were medicine. Story. Stewardship. Restoration.

Somewhere along the way, other demands crowded that quiet love out.

And in this season of reflection, I’ve been reclaiming it.

Studying herbs again. Reading. Remembering why I started.

I’ve also been leaning deeply into my Scandinavian roots — reading, slowing down, embracing hygge in a way that feels grounding and healing. Candles lit in the early dark mornings. Warm meals made slowly. Creating beauty at home simply because it nourishes the nervous system.

It has been restorative in a way I didn’t know I needed.

There is a different kind of creativity that comes from rest. From protecting your nervous system. From being present with your family. From strengthening your body. From learning and stretching and choosing to build slowly instead of chaotically.

I’m not interested in doing more.
I’m interested in doing what matters — exceptionally well.

This quiet season has been about tending the roots:

Our faith.
Our health.
Our home.
Our heritage.
Our brides.
Our garden.
Our work.
Our vision.

Because when the real spring comes — I want to be ready.

And speaking of spring… as the garden plans solidify and the seeds begin to sprout, I’m reminded that there are only a couple of spring and summer flower subscriptions remaining. I’m intentionally keeping things smaller this year — more curated, more sustainable, more aligned with the kind of work I want to create.

If you’ve been considering it, now would be the time.

Photo: Liv Schafer Photography

If you’ve been in a quiet season too, maybe it’s not stagnation. Maybe it’s preparation.

There is so much beauty ahead.
I can feel it.

Thank you for being here — even in the quiet.

As we tend the roots,

Alex