There’s a certain kind of magic that arrives with flowers. Not only do they brighten windowsills and soften hedgerows, but they also mark time — subtle reminders of where we are in the great wheel of the year. In the spirit of cottagecore, growing flowers is less about perfect arrangements and more about cultivating wonder.
Each season brings its own blooms, and with them, their own stories. In the early part of the year, when the ground still carries winter’s chill, snowdrops are often the first to appear. Small and pure, they push through frozen soil like quiet hope. Soon after, crocuses and daffodils follow — golden signs that light is returning.
Spring is when the garden begins to sing. I tuck seeds into trays by the window: sweet peas, calendula, cosmos, and zinnias. Some are old favourites. Others are gifts from neighbours or found at village swaps. I label each with care and watch them sprout, thin green lines stretching toward warmth.
Summer is the season of abundance. Hollyhocks tower near the cottage walls. Bees hum between lavender and foxglove. I often gather a few stems and place them in mismatched jars — not for guests, but simply because it brings me joy. I press others between pages or dry them upside down in the pantry, to keep a bit of summer when the days grow shorter.
In autumn, the blooms begin to bow, gracefully letting go. Dahlias make a final, defiant show, bold and beautiful until the first frost. I collect seeds, snip deadheads, and tuck bulbs into storage. The garden rests, and so do I.
Even winter has its own quiet palette — hellebores, ivy, and rose hips. Their beauty is understated, but all the more precious for it.
You don’t need a large garden to enjoy flowers through the year. A few pots on a step, a windowsill box, or even a borrowed patch of soil will do. What matters is your care, your curiosity, and your willingness to listen to the seasons.
Flowers, after all, are generous teachers. They remind us to wait, to adapt, and to bloom in our own time.
So plant something — anything — and watch what grows.
