Hi. I am Lynsey.
I am probably best classified as an artist, gardener, and writer in terms of “use to society”. The artistry I practice most of all is with plants. Ah, the garden! Could any installation be any more rewarding or complex? More infinite upon infinite in its depths?
When I write I aim to promote sustainable floriculture, the beauty of drought-tolerant landscapes, and the use of native plants in garden design.
I am reliably Zone 3, though we can’t help but push it, can we?
What’s My Deal
I grow and supply fresh cut flowers, wreath frames and natural craft supplies (like dried flowers, grasses, ancient grains, pretty heirloom corn and beans n’ things) to Winnipeggers, raise hard-to-find shrubs and perennials, run some workshops, give some garden talks, and when I sit down to write, I open the proverbial vein and bleed garden.
From a more permanent (ha! the only permanent thing is change amiright?) perspective, I experiment with an existing native prairie and wetland habitat on my property and explore the tenets of New Perennial garden design: an aesthetic that asks the gardener to control less and converse more with nature.
Let’s say it’s a no-spray, no-till xeriscape of intuitive permaculture bred with bio-dynamic influences that sees cutting gardens modelled on food forests but mixing with kitchen gardens and rock terraces, but who knows, really?
As Nico the flower farmer always said: it’s an experiment.
Big reveal: Building a really over-the-top labyrinth I saw in a vision with seven colours of flowers in the shape of a snake, turtle, frog and woman all at the same time. No really! It was the most incredible vision; it is my mission, and I rose to meet it.
Email me at [my full name] at Gmail.com (spell it right because my mama didn’t!) or DM me on Instagram.
Things I Like To Grow
It doesn’t always work out, but I like to grow cut flowers that all at once satisfy my completely made-up but fun-to-say holistic garden trifecta:
1. It must feed pollinators, birds or animals like my chick’uns.
2. It must survive in the conditions I have, aka “The right plant in the right place.” If I have to haul soil and water things it will be for plant babies and that’s it (ok also food, like potatoes and corn). This me talking to a plant: “Don’t like sand? My mistake, I’ll move you to the meadow. What’s that you’re thirsty? Let me show you to our marsh, then.”
3. It must be something I can use in (preferably) multiple ways, either to: eat, drink, use as dye or medicine, give as gifts or make arts and crafts with, float in my cocktail, put on a flower crown and prance with, or let my kids play with. I want a flower I can stick on a piece of cheese and eat, freeze in an ice cube (borage!) and squeal at, you get the idea… I want art supplies for my life, and banned myself from Michaels.
Still Talking About Myself Over Here
I am a one-time editor (there’s mistakes all over this blog), current board member and long-time lover of The Prairie Garden, a non-profit digest for growing on the prairies since 1937. The Prairie Garden – by the way – is a historic publication, written by the some of biggest names in prairie horticulture, it’s volunteer-run and non-profit, and there are archival editions still available for cheap, collect them now, what are you still doing here the link is back there.
I also (rarely ever) write a blog that focuses solely on heirloom and native cut flowers over at Heirloom Gardener Magazine called The Curated Cutting Garden.
Before all that, I spent five years studying environmental science at the University of Winnipeg, wore a t-shirt I had custom made that read “Geology rocks!”, got 21K in debt and still managed to leave without a degree in case you needed a hero today. I left my degree to get a diploma – which turns out is the same thing, but cheaper. This time I trained in Communications at Red River College, and I worked as a writer for ten years- until I won all these fancy industry awards and realized they meant nothing to me.
In 2007, I read Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet, faced the void in my soul, and left the city for the woods, where I have finally found the oft-promised marrow of life.
I garden on a glacial Lake Agassiz beach in southeastern Manitoba about ten minutes down the road from Sandilands Provincial Forest (I garden in sand!), and I live in the tiniest cabin you ever saw (475 square feet which actually isn’t even funny) with my husband Mark, and our little boys.
There’s also ducks, fish, pigeon (not a typo, he’s lonely), chickens, hamsters, our dogs, and my cat collection (five, all fixed, cat lady pride).