The Gardener’s Wish List: Gifts They Want (But Won’t Buy Themselves)
A flower farmer’s gift guide for gardeners: the fun, pretty and cozy gifts they want but won’t buy themselves, from flower presses and copper watering cans to garden puzzles, embroidered journals and slow-morning tea.
Shopping for the gardener who has everything? Every gardener I know has the practical stuff covered. This gift guide for gardeners is the fun side: the pretty, the playful and the little luxuries we admire every season and never quite justify buying for ourselves. From a flower press and a copper watering can to garden puzzles and a cozy tea set, these are the Christmas gifts for gardeners and flower lovers I'd be thrilled to unwrap. Whether your gardener is still out cutting the last blooms or already curled up dreaming of spring, there's something here for them.
Looking for the everyday tools, feeds and supplies we actually use on the farm? Those live on Shop My Favorites. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases; it costs you nothing extra and helps keep our little farm growing.
Pressed, Planted & Personal
The pretty, sentimental pieces. These are the gifts a gardener eyes every season and never buys for herself.
Extra-large flower press
Personalized garden sign
"Welcome to My Garden" sign
Vintage iron garden signs
"Grow an Old Friend" garden stake
Copper watering can
Bee watering stations
Frog rain gauge
Wicker harvest basket
Garden apron with harvest pouch
Smart bird feeder with camera
Solar garden snail
Solar turtle statue
Ceramic garden mushrooms
Metal flower garden stakes
The Upgrades
The prettier, nicer versions of everyday garden gear. They'll use them every single day.
Modern Sprout pruning shears
Thorn-proof leather gloves
Waxed canvas garden bag
Metal garden caddy
Canvas garden tool belt
Fiskars hand tool set
Grampa's Weeder
Hori hori garden knife
Gardener's barrier cream
In the Garden hand cream trio
Gear Worth Every Penny
Yes, these are splurges. But good boots, warm layers and real rain gear are the difference between a miserable muddy morning and a beautiful one.
Bogs Chelsea rain boots
Bogs farm boots
Carhartt insulated bibs
Carhartt insulated coat
Carhartt insulated gloves
Carhartt satin-lined beanie
Grundéns waterproof bibs
Grundéns waterproof jacket
Smartwool cold weather socks
Bring the Garden Indoors
For the long winter months when the beds are asleep and their hands are itching to grow something.
Modern Sprout flower grow kit
Mason jar herb garden
Candle planter
Terracotta watering bulbs
Botanical keeper tray
Bonsai starter kit
Miniature flower house kit
Botany board game
LEGO Botanicals Happy Plants
Oregano herb planting set
The Slow-Down Section
If they're a gardener, they're tired by the time the holidays roll around. They're craving rest and slow living: hot tea or coffee in a cute mug, a good book, journaling, crafting and puzzles.
The Walled Garden puzzle
Beekeepers puzzle
Lady of the Garden puzzle
Greenhouse Gardens puzzle
Secret Garden puzzle
Tilting puzzle board
Embroidered journal
The best pens
Tea cup with infuser
Vanilla rooibos loose leaf tea
The Plant Lady coloring book
World of Flowers coloring book
Secret Garden coloring book
Ohuhu dual brush markers
Mini watercolor paint set
Flower paint by numbers kit
Floriography
An embroidered journal, the best pens, a cute mug and some loose leaf tea (or their favorite coffee beans). Tie it up with a ribbon and you have the perfect gift.
Garden Education
For the gardener who is always learning, from growing cut flowers to saving their own seed.
Designing with Dried Flowers
Floret Farm's Bloom to Seed (pre-order)
How Does Your Garden Grow?
From Seed to Bloom
Seed saving kit
Floret Farm's Cut Flower Garden
The Cut Flower Handbook
The Healing Garden
The Beekeeper's Apothecary
The Tiny But Mighty Farm
Stocking Stuffers
Small enough for the stocking, useful enough to stay out of the junk drawer. These are the little gardener gifts that get used all season.
Save the Bees wildflower seed shaker
Hummingbird and butterfly seed collection
Plants Get Me socks
Wooden nail brush
Fiskars garden snips
Herb and greens stripper
Leaf watering funnels
Funny plant magnet eyes
PrunePro pruner and snips set
Gift Guide FAQ
What do you get a gardener who has everything?
Skip the basic tools and go for the things they admire but never buy for themselves: an extra-large flower press, a personalized garden sign, a copper watering can or a beautiful harvest basket. Practical gardeners rarely treat themselves to the pretty versions.
What are good gifts for gardeners in winter?
Gifts that bring the garden indoors or help them rest: an indoor flower grow kit, a mason jar herb garden, a bonsai starter kit, a garden-themed jigsaw puzzle with a puzzle board, or an embroidered journal for planning next season.
What is a good small gift for a flower lover?
A tea cup with an infuser and some loose leaf tea, a pretty pair of pruning shears, thorn-proof garden gloves, a good hand cream for gardeners or a set of smooth journaling pens all make sweet stocking stuffers.
Where can I find the gardening tools you actually use?
The everyday tools, organic fertilizers and seed-starting supplies we use on our Michigan flower farm are all on our Shop My Favorites page.
What are good stocking stuffers for gardeners?
Small things they will really use: a wooden nail brush, a pair of garden snips, an herb stripper, leaf-shaped watering funnels, funny plant magnet eyes or a pair of plant socks.
Still shopping? The practical, farmer-tested favorites we use every day, from snips to seed starting, are all in one place.
SHOP MY FAVORITES
False Spring, Root Work & Necessary Pruning
In this season of false spring, I’ve been doing quiet root work — pruning what no longer serves the business, reclaiming my herbal beginnings, and choosing slower, more intentional growth before the bloom.
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
🌾 When the Garden Feels Heavy
There’s a rhythm to flower farming that most people never see. It’s easy to imagine the armloads of blooms — the bright dahlias, fragrant stock, and the overflowing buckets that make their way to weddings and markets. But beneath all that beauty lies the part of the work that no one posts about — the quiet, gritty, heavy part that comes at the end of the season.
We’re here now. The dahlias have browned, the nights dip below freezing, and the flower field is slowly being put to rest. Every day is a list of “lasts” — the last of the harvesting, the last of the compost turning, the last of the warm sun on your back. We’ve been cutting down rows, clearing beds, spreading compost, and tucking peony roots and bulbs into the soil for their long winter sleep. The roses are next — each one trimmed, covered, and whispered a little promise: “see you in spring.”
“frost-mas” 25’ - 10/25/2025
It’s a season of letting go, but it’s also a season that asks for more than I sometimes have to give. The work is slower but heavier. The mental load too. Between job searching, planning ahead for next year, and trying to balance motherhood, business, and life — it’s a lot. This time of year always asks for faith in the unseen. You’re planting for beauty you won’t see for months, investing in a dream that only lives in the quiet corners of your imagination right now.
And honestly? That’s hard. It’s hard to live one or two seasons ahead when you’re already running on empty. Flower farming has a way of doing that — forcing you to always think of what’s next, what needs ordering, what needs changing, what needs rest. And sometimes, I wish I could just pause — just stand in the field as it is, without rushing toward what will be.
But that’s the quiet lesson fall keeps teaching me: not everything beautiful happens in full bloom. Growth happens underground, in the stillness, in the letting go. The peonies don’t question whether they’ll bloom again. They rest. They trust the process.
So maybe this season is about that — about trusting what’s happening beneath the surface. About learning that heaviness isn’t a sign of failure; it’s a sign of transition. It’s the body and the heart catching up to the pace of change.
Lately, I’ve been reminding myself that even in the fading and the quiet, there’s purpose. The composting, the pruning, the clearing — it’s all preparation for what’s next. The same way rest prepares the soul for new growth.
So I’m leaning into slower rhythms. Early sunsets, muddy boots, cozy evenings with tea and notebooks. Dreaming in small ways again, without forcing the big picture. Letting the field and my heart rest together.
Because maybe this is what the garden has been trying to teach me all along:
Even when it feels heavy, even when it looks bare — this, too, is part of the bloom. 🌾
Written from the fields at Bede’s Blooms + Co., as we tuck another season to rest.
— Alex
My field helper these days