WildAugust Nursery & Flower Farm

WildAugust Nursery & Flower Farm Farmer florist creating ultra-fresh, locally grown, garden-inspired arrangements for all occasions. To place an order for flowers, please call 956-535-2117.
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Pickup is available here at the farm by appointment only or during Market hours. Delivery is also available. For more information about our farmer's Market, please visit our Market page .

It has been a long and busy week: weddings, birthdays, a funeral, some just-because orders… My last arrangement for the ...
10/03/2026

It has been a long and busy week: weddings, birthdays, a funeral, some just-because orders… My last arrangement for the day is the altar flowers for my church. I had other ideas in my head for them, honestly. Red was not on the list. -but I had these warm, rusty-toned chrysanthemums in the flower fridge along with the cooler, more blue-toned carnations. They didn’t really get along very well in their shared bucket, but I got them all out anyway. I found some ‘Flamingo Purple’ celosia foliage in the walk-in, as well as a good bunch of ‘Mahogany Splendor’ hibiscus stems. The foliages kind of ran the spectrum of warm and cool, so I decided to try them out and see what happened. I actually loved the effect, especially without the green myrtle. I gave in to its addition because I needed some taller stems, and as much as I loved the moody feel of the reds, I wanted to keep the whole thing a little bit brighter for church. I didn’t expect to like the finished product, and I was fully prepared to scrap it and start over with the peach roses I had in the walk-in. I’m not sure if it was fatigue or creativity that drove the experiment, but I think it worked. For me it has been an interesting study in mixing color temperatures. I’m tired today, but I learned something. 🍁
PS- The flowers will sit in a brass shell on the altar; the plastic reservoir fits inside it and will not show. 😉

I haven’t spoken to him in a couple of years, but I can still hear his voice. We were good friends in high school, when ...
09/27/2026

I haven’t spoken to him in a couple of years, but I can still hear his voice. We were good friends in high school, when the days were longer and easier and the load of life was lighter and less busy. He was a man’s man, even then, with a love for hunting and fishing and being outdoors. Funny, smart, easy to talk to, his life reflected his love for his family and his genuine concern for the people around him. When I learned of his passing, I asked his mother if I could make his casket cover- one last gift for my old friend. I wanted to tell a little bit of his story with the things of the wild places he loved so much: sea oats, mistflower, and seaside goldenrod from the island; wild passionvine, palm, brasil, and fiddlewood from the arroyo thicket; mesquite, ebony, and cenizo from the ranchlands and their thornscrub. They’re all souvenirs of this place, of his home, where he spent so many of his best and happiest days. I got to be a tiny part of some of those days, and for that I am grateful. Those lighthearted times with friends were a gift, and so was he.
See you later, Andy. 🤍

The heat is as relentless as it is defeating. We start seeds under cover, in deep shade, carefully managing their earlie...
09/14/2026

The heat is as relentless as it is defeating. We start seeds under cover, in deep shade, carefully managing their earliest days. Today I found another row of newly transplanted seedlings gone from the field. I do not know if they were taken by birds or ants or simply withered to nothing by the heat in spite of our very best efforts. Something inside of me is made of the same stuff, I think, and every summer it is more easily depleted by these long and unforgiving days. I soothe myself with memories of Marches and Aprils and Mays, all overflowing with flowers that were born outside of summer’s near-impossible struggle. I remind myself that on the other side of this season there is rest and rain and relief, all carried in on a north wind that will make abundance possible again. There is another version of myself in that field of flowers. She is happy, optimistic, creative again. Sometimes, on these long days when the afternoons simmer and the cicadas’ song rings like heat made audible, I fear that I have lost that version of me forever, that she has gone the way of the too-tired seedlings. I go out to the field to look for her, hose in hand. Maybe if I water well enough I can keep her alive a little longer, will her to persevere until summer finally relents, until the days cool and the clouds come and rain washes the brittle things of this hard season away.

It’s a little bouquet of bougainvillea, but every time I walk into my kitchen, my brain wants to believe they’re sweet p...
09/06/2026

It’s a little bouquet of bougainvillea, but every time I walk into my kitchen, my brain wants to believe they’re sweet peas. 🙃

That beautiful, pink-veined leaf is a caladium. They are easy to grow in The Valley if you plant them in shade in early ...
09/04/2026

That beautiful, pink-veined leaf is a caladium. They are easy to grow in The Valley if you plant them in shade in early spring. I have ordered several varieties to plant here at WildAugust, and I expect to have extras. These are bulbs, not plants, and I should have them available by mid-March. Please let me know in the comments if you’re interested in purchasing some for your own gardens, and I’ll put you on my list to be notified when they arrive. 🌸

09/03/2026

The orioles are still crowding the feeders every day. Many of you asked about a story I shared of them last week. Here are the details: two of the three feeders are for grape jelly. Orioles absolutely love it. The third feeder is for hummingbirds, but the orioles have commandeered it too. It has become a kind of waiting area where they stop for a sip while they wait for an opening at the jelly bowls. I love seeing them out there, vying for a bite and hanging upside down from the chains when they can’t squeeze in on a perch. Migration is fully underway now, and that means cooler weather is coming- eventually. I’m so ready.

He was born in Brownsville in 1931 when Fort Brown still bustled with the din of cavalry and cannon and the flag was sti...
09/02/2026

He was born in Brownsville in 1931 when Fort Brown still bustled with the din of cavalry and cannon and the flag was still lowered each evening to the sacred tones of Taps. At age seventeen, with his mother’s blessing, he enlisted in the United States Navy and then later reenlisted in the Marines. His tours of duty took him all over the world and into the throes of combat, where his courage and selflessness were eventually formally recognized with various ribbons and medals.
He married in 1961 and was separated from his wife only by death after over six decades of marriage. During their time together they raised a daughter, welcomed grandchildren, and opened a grocery store. He lived to the age of ninety-five, and devoted those many years to his family, his community, and his country.
Fort Brown is mostly a memory now, the cannon and cavalry having long since gone quiet. This humble patriot’s legacy survives though. His was a life of service, and the world is better for the way he lived it. What a gift.

Somewhere in my attic is a photo of me in this same place, twenty-six years younger. I had been married just a matter of...
09/01/2026

Somewhere in my attic is a photo of me in this same place, twenty-six years younger. I had been married just a matter of days, and my husband and I were on our way home from our honeymoon on Vancouver Island. He bought me flowers right here, in this same market, and I carried a bouquet of purple sweet peas and another of lupines home to Texas on the plane. Our wedding and that week that followed was a bright spot in a year marked by tragedy, loss, and grief. Running for cover in the wake of the heartache, I had dropped out of graduate school, left horticulture behind, and become a teacher. My love for flowers, and specifically for growing them, never left me though, and the fifteen years I spent in the classroom were marked by both a deep love for my students and a deep longing for what I had left behind. I could not have imagined then how much the story would change.
My husband snapped this picture of me several weeks ago. This time we were on our way to Alaska with my entire family, and this time I bought myself the flowers- with my own business debit card bearing the name of my own flower farm. Twenty-six years ago, that felt like an impossible dream, one that I had willingly abandoned. Standing there last July, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for all of it.
The weeks that followed this photo have been challenging. We have lost round after round of fall seedlings to one malady after another: birds, mice, fungus, heat. Our irrigation system is down- again- at the time of year when we need it most, and perhaps most depressingly, my decision to rearrange and then cover crop the flower field means we don’t have much in bloom right now. I miss the flowers so much. All the struggle and failure make me question so many things- but they do not ever tempt me to quit. I found my way back to this calling on my heart, and I am grateful for every day I get to live it. August and its blistering test of my mettle is over now. I am quietly glad for that, and I’m praying September is gentler -and full of flowers.

Address

16802 Garrett Road
Harlingen, TX
78552

Telephone

+19565352117

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