In the silvery light before dawn, when the garden is still holding its breath, my market day begins. The Gawler Makers' Market has become a cherished rhythm in my florist's calendar, a fortnightly dance that begins long before the first customer arrives at my stall.
The Garden's Offering
Market preparation starts days before, with quiet morning walks through the garden. These aren't the leisurely strolls that social media might imagine—they're focused assessments of what nature will offer for the coming market. Each bloom tells its own story: the dahlias nodding their readiness, the sweet peas reaching for one last bit of height, the roses deciding whether they'll open in time.
A Symphony of Seasons
Being a florist who grows her own flowers means learning to read the seasons like music. You learn which flowers will sing together, which need more time to reach their perfect pitch, and when to call on fellow local growers to fill in the quiet spaces. These relationships with other growers aren't just business transactions—they're partnerships in bringing the best of our region to market.
The Night Before
While most of Adelaide is winding down for the evening, my pre-market preparation is in full swing. Until 1 or 2 in the morning, you'll find me:
Conditioning each stem with precise cuts and clean water
Crafting bouquets that balance colour, texture, and durability
Ensuring each arrangement can withstand the journey and the weather
Preparing buckets with the right blend of flower food and fresh water
The Dawn Chorus
By 5:30 AM, I'm moving through the familiar choreography of market morning. Each bucket must be filled with fresh water at the last possible moment. Every bouquet needs its final check. The car is packed with the careful precision that comes from years of experience—knowing exactly how to place each bucket so nothing tips during the drive.
Setting the Stage
The Gawler Makers' Market front verandah becomes my stage from 10 AM, but the real performance began hours before. There's an art to displaying flowers that considers not just aesthetics, but also:
How the morning sun will move across the space
Which blooms need protection from warm breezes
How to arrange everything so customers can see each flower's beauty
Nature's Timeline
The market has its own rhythm. By 1 PM, many of my bouquets have found their new homes. There's a satisfaction in this quick turnover—it tells me I've read the season right, understood what people are looking for, created something that speaks to them.
The Final Act
The market officially ends for me around 2 PM, but a florist's day doesn't end when the last customer leaves. There's the careful pack-down, the drive home, and then the essential aftermath: cleaning buckets, processing any remaining flowers, and finally allowing myself to rest my back around 5 or 6 PM.
More Than Just a Market Day
These monthly market days are exhausting, yes, but they're also deeply satisfying. They connect me directly with the community, allow me to share the garden's seasonal story, and remind me why I chose this path. Each market is a full cycle—from garden to customer, from dawn to dusk, from preparation to presentation to preservation of tools and materials for next time.
It's a labour that demands everything: physical strength, artistic vision, agricultural knowledge, and pure stamina. But when I see someone's face light up as they carry away their chosen bouquet, or hear how last market's flowers are still bringing joy to someone's home, I know every early morning and late night is worth it.
This is the reality of bringing flowers to market—a reality that's both more challenging and more rewarding than most might imagine. It's not just about selling flowers; it's about sharing a piece of the garden's story, wrapped in paper and tied with string, ready to become part of someone else's story too.