A Day in the Life of a Rose Farmer in Ecuador

4:30 AM
The rooster’s crow is my alarm clock. I wake before the sun, the crisp mountain air drifting through the window. We’re high in the Andes, nearly 3,000 meters above sea level, where the conditions are perfect for growing roses. The cool nights, bright days, and volcanic soil make this region one of the best in the world for roses.

I pull on my boots and step outside, the horizon glowing faintly with the promise of dawn. Our greenhouse lights shimmer in the distance, illuminating the countless rows of roses waiting for their daily care. A quick breakfast of coffee and pan de yuca fuels me for the long day ahead.

5:00 AM
In the greenhouse, the roses are waking too. Their dewy petals glisten under the artificial lights that mimic the sun's rays. The temperature here is carefully controlled, always hovering between 18 and 25 degrees Celsius. These are not just roses—they’re perfection, cultivated for export to Europe, the United States, and beyond.

Today, I begin by walking the rows, inspecting the blooms. There’s something meditative about it—the soft rustling of leaves, the occasional chirp of a bird outside, and the faint, sweet fragrance of thousands of roses. I check for pests, diseases, and any signs of stress. A good rose farmer learns to read the plants like a doctor reads a patient.

6:00 AM
Harvesting begins. The pickers, a team of 15 skilled workers, arrive to cut the roses that are at the ideal stage—tight buds with just a hint of color showing. Timing is everything; a day too early or too late, and the roses won’t make the journey to their final destination in peak condition.

I work alongside them, demonstrating how to cut the stems cleanly and place them in water buckets immediately to keep them hydrated. Each rose is a product of months of effort, and nothing is left to chance.

9:00 AM
The first batch of roses is ready for processing. We move them to the post-harvest area, where the real magic happens. Here, the roses are sorted by size, color, and quality. Workers deftly remove thorns and extra leaves, their hands moving quickly but delicately. It’s fascinating to watch—the efficiency, the rhythm.

In one corner, a team prepares a special order for a European wedding. Pure white roses, long-stemmed and flawless, are bundled in boxes lined with soft paper. Seeing them packed and ready for their journey fills me with pride. These flowers, grown on our humble farm, will soon adorn an event thousands of miles away.

11:30 AM
A brief break for lunch. The team and I gather under a shaded area by the greenhouse. Today, it’s seco de pollo, a hearty chicken stew with rice, plantains, and a spicy aji sauce. We share stories, jokes, and plans for the weekend. Life on the farm can be demanding, but it’s moments like these that remind me we’re a family.

12:30 PM
Back to work. I oversee irrigation, ensuring the drip systems are delivering just the right amount of water and nutrients to each row. Our water comes from a nearby reservoir, and we use it sparingly—it’s a precious resource up here in the mountains. Composting is another key task; the trimmings and waste from the roses are turned into nutrient-rich soil for future crops. Nothing goes to waste.

2:00 PM
The afternoon is spent in the propagation area. We’re always experimenting with new varieties of roses to meet changing market demands. Today, I check on a promising hybrid—deep crimson with a velvet-like texture. If it succeeds, this rose could become our farm’s signature variety. I note its growth progress in my logbook, imagining the possibilities.

4:00 PM
As the sun begins to dip, I step outside to take in the view. The Andes stretch endlessly around me, their peaks bathed in golden light. I feel a deep connection to this land, which has been in my family for generations. It’s not just about growing roses—it’s about honoring this place and the traditions that sustain us.

5:00 PM
I return to the packing house, where the last roses are being prepared for shipment. The boxes are loaded into a refrigerated truck, destined for the airport in Quito. From there, they’ll fly to markets in New York, Amsterdam, or Tokyo. I like to imagine the people who will receive them—their smiles, the moments of joy these roses will bring. It makes the long hours worth it.

6:30 PM
At home, I share dinner with my family. We talk about the day—my wife helps with the farm’s finances, and my children are already learning the basics of rose care. Afterward, I sit by the fire, jotting down notes about the farm’s progress. The sky outside is a deep indigo, stars beginning to twinkle.

8:30 PM
Before bed, I take one last walk to the greenhouse. The roses are quiet now, resting in the dim glow of the lights. I breathe deeply, letting the scent of the blooms fill my lungs. These flowers are more than a livelihood—they’re my passion, my pride, and my connection to the earth.

Tomorrow will be another early morning, another day of tending to the roses. But for now, I feel content, grateful for this life among the flowers in the heart of the Andes.