I'm a whole adult who still organizes her life around the traditional school calendar.

Seriously.

Right out of college, I started working in the NFL, which in many ways operates on a calendar that's not all that different from school. We report to training camp in the summer, the season kicks off in the fall, playoffs carry you into the new year, and then before you know it, you're right back preparing for another season. Somewhere along the way, that rhythm became my rhythm too. Even after leaving football, I found comfort in living life that way. Holidays. Spring break. Summer vacation. It always gave me something to look forward to.

I've always thought New Year's was a little overrated anyway. Sure, January 1st is technically the beginning of the year, but in my mind, the real reset happens the Tuesday after Labor Day. That's when everybody gets back to work. The vacations are over. The calendars start filling up again. Life starts...life-ing again.

Maybe that's why summer has always felt so sacred to me. It's permission. Permission to disappear for a little while. To stay out later than you planned because the conversation got good. To take the trip. To call an audible because somebody invited you to the beach. To remember that not every hour has to be productive.

A few years ago, my therapist told me something that's stayed with me ever since. She said it's important to always have something to look forward to—that anticipating joy can be just as good for your mental health as experiencing it. I've thought about that conversation a lot over the years, and every summer I'm reminded that this season has always been that thing for me. It's the reward after a long year. The exhale before life picks back up again. Which probably explains why I'm so protective of my annual trip to Martha's Vineyard.

Every year I depart the island with the exact same thought: I can't wait to come back next summer!

Not because I didn't get to do everything I wanted to do. Ironically, I rarely have much of an agenda when I'm there. I just never feel ready to leave the pace. There's something about that ferry ride that signals to my brain, "Okay...you can relax now." With every mile between the mainland and the island, another layer of responsibility seems to fall away. Emails can wait. The to-do list will still be there next month. My only job is to be exactly where I am. And every year, when it's time to leave, I find myself feeling desperate to arrive again.

The Number One Commodity

I always tell people that the number one commodity on Martha's Vineyard is time.

Everybody comes for different reasons—the beaches, the reunions, the food, the gatherings, the history—but somehow we all leave embracing the same thing: time. Time to catch up with friends you only get to hug once a year. Time to sit on somebody's porch sipping wine while the day slowly unfolds around you. Time to ride bikes with nowhere in particular to be. Time to stay at game night just a little longer to play one more hand of Spades because you and your partner have been running the table all night. Time to laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

No one apologizes for moving slowly there. Matter of fact, if you're rushing around, you’re probably doing too much. Relax. You'll get there when you get there. Honestly, that's probably true for more than just on the Vineyard.

Hydrangeas Everywhere

Every year I come home with so many pictures on my phone. Friends. Moments. Sunsets (oh the sunsets). A few random screenshots I forgot to delete. And an absolutely insane number of hydrangeas. And, the funny thing is, I don't think I'm actually taking pictures of the flowers. I think I'm taking pictures of how I felt when I saw them. Maybe that's why I keep taking them because every picture reminds me of a different conversation, a different walk, a different afternoon, a different version of the day.

When I scroll back through my camera roll, my favorite memories usually aren't the big ones. They’re the walk back from breakfast. The flowers spilling over somebody's white fence I noticed while strolling to the water. The garden I almost walked past because I was too busy talking. The little things that somehow become the things you remember most. Maybe that's what slowing down actually does. It doesn't change what's around us. It changes what we're able to notice.

So That's Where It Came From

People ask me all the time where our flower recipes come from, but somewhere between my 50th picture of a hydrangea and my annual promise that next year I'm staying longer, I realized I'd been trying to recreate this feeling at home for years.

That's where Blooms On the Bluff came from.

Yes, it was inspired by the hydrangeas, the lush greenery, and the unmistakable beauty of Oak Bluffs. But more than that, it was inspired by the feeling. The pace. The peace. The reminder that beauty usually isn't hiding from us, we're just moving too fast to notice it. I don't know if it's possible to package that feeling into a Bloom Box, but with our Blooms On the Bluff recipe, we certainly try.

Before Summer Slips Away

When summer begins, it always feels like we have more time. More weekends. More cookouts. More sunsets. More long walks. Until suddenly...we don't.

In a few days, the ferry horn will sound as we pull away from the island and head back to the reality of the mainland. That's usually the moment my brain registers that summer is officially over. It'll be time to get serious again. Back to schedules. Back to meetings. Back to all the things that make life...life.

But before that happens, I'm going to squeeze every last drop out of this season. One more long walk. One more sunset. One more conversation that lasts longer than planned. One more chance to notice the flowers. Because I don't actually think what I miss most about Martha's Vineyard is the island itself. I think I miss the version of myself that I become when I'm there.

The version that moves a little slower, laughs a little longer, and remembers to notice the flowers instead of walking past them. The version that doesn't feel guilty for sitting still. The version that isn't constantly thinking about what's next.

As I wrap up this year's trip to the island and immediately start making plans to come back next August, I'm hoping I can figure out how to bring a little of her home with me.

Here’s to making the most of every remaining moment of summer. See you in the fall. 

Florally yours,
Talia 🌸
Head Petal Pusher