From Flower Farmer to Artist: Why I chose to Paint Instead of Grow

Welcome one and all..

For the past few years, my life has followed the rhythm of the seasons.

Seed sowing in the quiet of early spring. Long summer days cutting armfuls of flowers. The slow winding down as autumn arrived, and the land began to rest again.

Growing flowers wasn’t just what I did — it shaped how I saw the world. Colour, texture, fleeting beauty… everything was temporary, and that felt important.

Some of you will already know me from my flowering days but if you don’t then heres a a quick overview.

I used to be a British Flower Farmer, running my own business for over six years.

I grew, cut, sold wholesale and retail, flowered weddings and funerals and ran workshops in my tiny studio.

But over time, something began to shift, and I got tired with a capital ‘T’

Not suddenly, and not dramatically. More like a gentle turning.

I found myself wanting to hold onto things for a little longer. A particular shade of pink. The way light caught the edge of a petal. The looseness of a garden that could never quite be recreated twice.

And I realised that, for me, painting was a way of doing that.

Letting Go of the Field (and Keeping What Matters)

Closing the flower farm wasn’t an easy decision.

There’s a physicality to growing that stays with you — the connection to the weather, the soil, the unpredictability of it all. It teaches patience in a way very little else can.

I also met some wonderful people that attended my workshops or bought flowers regularly from me.

But it also asks a lot. I was also unlucky enough to get an allergic reaction to something I was using during my peak Christmas workshop season which saw my face and eyes balloon overnight and my face was something akin to the words ‘baboon’ and ‘bottom’!!

Fast forward through the whole of 2025 where this allergy continued to affect my skin and my digestive system…I hate to use an overused term but I was completely and utterly ‘stressed’

I had already began to feel pulled towards a quieter, more reflective way of working. One that still honoured the seasons, but allowed space to pause, to notice, and to create in a different way. Maybe the allergy was natures way to force me to slow down and take notice.

I started the journey of winding the business down over the course of 2025 and getting through my final wedding of the season, having four funerals of close friends to flower at the same time and then I got the news my Dad had also passed.

I knew it was time to move on…

Painting became my new creative space with no pressures.

Not as a replacement for growing, but as a continuation of it.

Painting What I Used to Grow

Even now, I don’t feel very far from the field (well technically I’m not because I am blessed that I grew my flowers where I live)

I still notice the same details — the curve of a stem, the way colours sit beside each other, the slightly imperfect shapes that make something feel alive.

When I paint flowers or anything inspired by nature…I’m not trying to recreate them exactly.

I’m trying to capture a feeling.

Something loose, a little bit wild, and not overworked.

Because that’s what I loved most about growing — the natural, unforced beauty of it all.

A Slower, More Intentional Way of Living

This change has also brought a different rhythm to my days.

There’s more space now. More time to think, to experiment, and to follow ideas without rushing.

Some days are spent painting. Others sketching, or simply noticing what’s around me — hedgerows, changing light, the colours of the season quietly shifting again.

It feels, in many ways, like a return to something simpler.

Why I’m Sharing This

I wanted to write this as a starting point.

If you’ve found your way here, perhaps you’re interested in painting, nature or flowers, or simply a slower, more creative way of living.

This space will be a place where I share:

• My paintings and process

• Gentle guides to painting flowers

• The tools and materials I genuinely use

• A little of the seasonal inspiration that still shapes everything I do

• The start of an exclusive monthly art club

Nothing too polished. Nothing too complicated.

Just an honest look at creating something beautiful, in a way that feels sustainable and real.

A New Season

I still think in seasons.

And this feels like the beginning of a new one.

Not an ending, but a continuation — just in a different form.

From growing flowers… to painting them.

And perhaps, in some ways, understanding them even more deeply than before.

I look forward to having you along for the journey.

My next event will be at the beautiful Corn Exchange in Doncaster City Centre

Saturday 16th May, it would be lovely to see you there

Sally X