Freighter View Farms

I recently returned from a 10-day journey through Paris, Sorrento, and the Amalfi Coast, and the beauty of these places is something I can’t let go of. As I stand in my garden at Freighter View Farms, I can’t help but dream about the memories from this trip and how I want to carry them into my garden—how they will take root, grow, and transform into something truly special in 2025.

Monet’s Gardens: A Dream in Bloom
Our journey began in Paris, and I found myself in Giverny, where the gardens of Claude Monet unfolded like a vivid painting—each flower and leaf as if brushed in perfect strokes. Imagine archways alive with cosmos and roses, vibrant splashes of color that whispered of a slower, more romantic pace of life. As I walked among the flowers, the scent of poppies filled the air, mingling with the delicate perfume of roses and a light dampness carried by the earth beneath me.

Standing there, surrounded by a living masterpiece, I knew I wanted to bring this back to Freighter View Farms. In Monet’s gift shop, I carefully picked packets of seeds—nasturtiums, and cosmos—seeds that hold within them the power to paint a small Giverny of my own. These seeds are destined to drape over containers in my garden, spilling their colors extravagantly, a testament to the beauty and inspiration of Monet’s timeless sanctuary. I want my 2025 garden to carry the serenity I found there, with flowers that invite famiy and friends to linger and feel as if they’re standing in a dream.

The Path of the Gods: A Clifftop Romance
From France, we traveled to the Amalfi Coast, where we explored the rugged, sun-soaked cliffs that define Italy’s southern edge. The Path of the Gods was unlike anything I had imagined—a narrow trail clinging to the cliffs, suspended between sky and sea. We walked above the shimmering Mediterranean, our steps accompanied by the scent of wild herbs—thyme, sage, oregano—carried up from the slopes beneath us. The views stretched forever, fading into the horizon where the water met the sky.

At the end of our hike, we came to a place that could have only existed in a dream—La Tagliata, a restaurant perched on the edge of the cliffs, family-run and full of warmth. We were greeted by the owners as if we were old friends, and before us was laid a meal that spoke of everything good and simple about Italian life. There was fresh pasta made with tomatoes grown just steps away, still warm from the sun, along with rich, local olive oil and vegetables harvested that morning. The laughter of the restraunt gowers, the rich taste of the food, the glow of the sun on the terrace—it was all so perfect, so authentic. It left me wanting to bring that warmth into my own kitchen, my garden.

Tomatoes, Columns, and the Timeless Ruins of Paestum
Italy’s charm only deepened as we visited Tenuta Vannulo, where we tasted mozzarella that had been made that very day, so creamy and delicate that it seemed impossible that it had just come from the nearby buffalo. The yogurt was fresh, the sweetest taste of a simple life. This kind of purity, this connection to the source of our food, is something I cherish in my own garden—a reminder of how the simplest things often carry the greatest depth.

From Tenuta Vannulo, we moved on to Paestum. Ancient Greek columns, standing tall under the wide sky, spoke of a different time, of permanence, and of humanity’s drive to create beauty that outlives us. I was struck by their grandeur, and an idea for my garden took root: columns that could support my indeterminate tomatoes—the famed Piennolo and San Marzano varieties that I tasted so often during my time on the coast. Next year, these tomatoes will climb the columns, their vines heavy with fruit, just as they did in Italy, with every red cluster telling a story of the land that inspired them.

Vesuvius’ Tomatoes and the Wine of the South
We also found ourselves at Tenuta Le Lune del Vesuvio, on the slopes of the famous volcano. There, the sun-baked soil, rich with volcanic minerals, gave birth to tomatoes so full of flavor that a simple bite felt like experiencing a piece of Italy itself. The lunch at the vineyard was accompanied by wines that seemed to hold the warmth of the land, the stories of those who worked the soil, and the resilience of the plants grown on those ashen fields. It was simple, yet so profound—each dish spoke of the care and tradition behind it.

The Journey Grows On
My 2025 garden won’t be a new creation, but an evolution—layering memories from Paris and Italy into what already grows here at Freighter View Farms. The archways of flowers inspired by Monet will mix with the bright zinnias and cosmos that already dot my garden. The tomatoes from Vesuvius and the Amalfi Coast will be trained to grow tall, up columns that reflect those we stood beside at Paestum. The herbs from the Path of the Gods—thyme, oregano, sage—will line the garden path, their scent released as we walk past, filling the air with their warmth.

This journey has left an impression on me that goes beyond the seeds I brought home. It’s in the way I look at my garden now, how I want it to tell a story—not just of plants and vegetables, but of inspiration found in far-off places, in the laughter shared over a simple meal, in the beauty of flowers growing wild, or in the steadfastness of ancient ruins.

If you’ve found inspiration in your travels, or even in the smallest details of the world around you, I’d love to hear about it. Let’s celebrate these moments of beauty that shape our lives and our gardens. After all, a garden isn’t just a place to grow food and flowers—it’s a place where memories take root, bloom, and thrive for years to come.