We're eager to see your stash builders.

I was joking last time I had to cancel and said I was jinxed, but now I'm beginning to wonder. We are currently having bad thunderstorms, high winds, lightning, and hail. It should last another hour, which covers our planned live event. I don't want to be online with my computer in weather like this, so again, I'll have to reschedule. I apologize and promise we'll try again.

There’s something quietly magical about springtime in Northeast Texas—and if you’ve ever seen the azaleas in bloom, you know exactly what I mean. For a few fleeting weeks, the landscape softens. Yards, garden paths, and quiet country roads begin to glow with layers of pink, coral, white, and deep rose. In places like Tyler, Texas—often called the Rose Capital—azaleas take their moment right alongside the roses. The annual Tyler Azalea & Spring Flower Trail becomes a kind of pilgrimage for flower lovers, where entire neighborhoods open themselves up in quiet celebration of the season. But beyond the festivals and photo moments, it’s the feeling that lingers. I've experienced it for so many years but never tire of anticipating the next Azalea season. It’s stepping outside in the early morning when the air still holds a bit of coolness, and noticing how the blooms catch the light. Shrubs you might pass all year without a second thought—suddenly become breathtaking. Azaleas don’t bloom all year. They don’t rush. They don’t compete. They simply wait… and then, when the moment is right, they show everything they’ve been quietly becoming. And maybe that’s what makes them so beautiful. Not just the color. Not just the abundance, but the timing, the patience. The reminder that beauty often lives in seasons—and when it arrives, it asks nothing more than to be noticed. If you’re in East Texas this spring, take a slower drive, a longer walk, a lingering glance. The azaleas are putting on a show… and it doesn’t last long.