It’s where people actually connect, where conversation overlaps, food is passed, and time slows down without anyone trying.

I watched it happen around my own table, someone is standing because they can’t sit still, voices overlapping with animal facts and snippets of the school day. Someone is always fact-checking with Siri. Someone else is calling the last slice before it’s even been cut. There’s disagreement, laughter, interruption. Plates get set down and picked back up. It’s loud, imperfect, and completely connected.

But dessert was the one thing everyone agreed on.

Dessert shows up for just about every milestone, meltdown, and moment in between. I’ve made elaborate cakes, followed questionable internet tutorials, and stayed up far too late chasing perfection. But when I finally asked what everyone actually wanted, the answer was always the same.

Pie.

Pie doesn’t need instructions. It doesn’t wait for the right moment. It shows up, gets sliced, and brings people together without asking much in return.

What started with pie naturally grew into flowers and plants, chosen the same way, for season, character, and presence. Things meant to live near people, not staged away from them.

At Pies in Bloom, everything we make or grow belongs at the table, for sharing, gathering, and the everyday moments that stay with you.