t’s super fun to fork over a $70 co-pay for the doctor to say, “Keep doing what you’re doing, champ! It’s never going away.” 

This is not a sob story. I have figured out ways to deal with the fact that I turn lobster red and start itching all over after 1 minute in the sun between 10am-6pm. I mean, I will not lie: it sucks, but it also isn’t 1,000 other things that could be wrong.

This is a story about what I do in doctor’s office waiting rooms. 

I scroll through Threads.  I do, even though I don’t really understand how to use Threads. If you’ve ever tried to contact me there, sorry. I just look at stuff and heart it. 

This morning I spent the 10 minutes waiting looking at every response on this thread:

The replies include something like 344 pictures of gardens.

Merrily I hearted every response that I could before getting called back. 

“Don’t use the steroid cream we gave you every day you’ll fry your skin and also did you say your desk is next to a window have you tried wearing sunscreen in the house?!?”

Here’s what happened when I looked at 344 pictures of gardens give or take 100:

I saw as many different types of gardens as there are type of people:

• Somebody set 8 potatoes in a circle around a sunflower. I think they’re going to plant them. 
   
• To continue the potato thread, in Maine it is still winter, but people are growing potatoes in a long cold frame thingy. 
   
• One person had a mess o’ peonies while another is picking the last of her tomatoes before the summer heat obliterates everything.
   
• One person planted everything in grow bags and another had beautifully manicured beds chock-full of foxgloves. 
   
• There were handwritten plans and computer diagrams.
   
• Many, many enclosures, ex-closures (?), and fences to keep critters out.
   
• Organized gardens, chaos gardens, gardens consisting of one pot with one plant in it.

Here is one of my eight earth boxes with my beautiful tomatoes. Please ignore the lack of grass. I don’t care about grass and apparently if it doesn’t rain for two months, centipede doesn’t stay dormant it just dies.

Please also enjoy my glorious eggplant. With water drops on it. Because I planted annual vinca in my front garden I have singlehandedly ended our drought in Southeastern NC. Glad to have taken one for the team.

Why doesn’t this surprise me?

No, not the fact that every person’s garden is going to look different.

Why doesn’t it surprise me that despite the fact that there are as many stories as there are people, that there are as many complications as there are families, that the way we are instructed to present ourselves, to parent our your children, the advice on how to plant our gardens and the advice on how to run our businesses, is the same. 

Be thin, wear makeup, do your hair

Don’t let the kids out of your sight. (No matter what happens in Norway.)

Never, ever cut anything down.

Scale, scale, scale, grow, grow, grow until you can’t.

You can look right there in that thread and immediately know that every. single. person. who shared a picture has a different set of puzzle pieces that make up the whole picture of their lives. 

And so do you. 

(If my Earthboxes offend you please re-read this email.)

Why does this surprise me?

When something is restricted you tend to want more of it. 

Not being able to easily pop outside for 8-9 hours a day makes me REALLY INTERESTED IN POPPING OUTSIDE when I can. I’ve turned into a night gardener. What I wrote about in my last newsletter — about my garden waking me up, bringing me back to myself — hoo boy little did I know my garden would become my solace. 

Little did I know that I would run right out every night at 6:30 and fuss over my tomatoes. (IS THAT AN EGG? MUST SQUASH IT!)

Little did I know I’d turn into my neighbor, Ann, who I would run into at the garden center paying for one six pack of annuals. 

“I guess I’ll go outside and plant my five Sunpatiens. Tomorrow I’ll evict the snapdragons.”

My friend Addy told me that when my routine was re-arranged I would learn new things about myself and notice new things about my surroundings. 

When I was working on the pastel painting (scroll down) of my garden at 7:30 one morning I smelled something sweet. WHAT IS THAT?!? 

Turns out it was the scent of decomposing sycamore leaves that I left in the flowerbed over winter. 

Why does it surprise me that by spending more time in my front yard, in my garden that I’ve tended for 18 years I would learn something more meaningful about how to approach email marketing or inventory management than reading 10 whitepapers will?

Why does that surprise me? 

Here’s a bouquet I picked last week. The white flowers are carrot flowers. Brie Arthur gave me a bunch of seeds two winters ago and I threw them all out in the side bed. These have been biding their time, taking advantage of my lackadaisical gardening habits. I got two Lauren’s Grape poppy flowers, too. I’m letting them set seed in hopes of more.

Shortly after picking, I talked with my friend this week who was writing an article about what some neighborhoods don’t want you to plant out front. 

I sent her a picture of this bouquet and some photos with my collards bolting and looking beautiful amongst my pansies. 

“Tell them to plant what they want! Just plant a lot of other stuff too, and the contraband plants won’t stand out,” I said.

“Only real gardeners will know and they won’t tell.”

Oh, Threads

While working on this newsletter I opened Threads again and saw this gem:

Sometimes I wish I could be as wise in two sentences as jessicagrowsflowers. 

Alas, I am a carrot flower while she is a calendula. 

There is room for both. But sometimes I forget that.

Because, the internet:

“If we just did this, we could be a multi million dollar agency, Katie”

“You could have multiple $15K/month retainer clients, Katie.”

“You could do nothing but fly around the country and speak, Katie.”

“You could have the biggest garden company in the world, Katie.” 

At various times I have been on track to be every one of those things. 

In each case I figured out I don’t want to be those things.

I don’t want a tropical paradise. I want a cottage garden.

Every time I found myself on an island, I swam back to shore. And I’m happier for it. So is my business.

Landing the Plane – but not in Newark

This is a very lengthy newsletter full of mixed metaphors to tell you one thing:

Ask yourself what you want. And arrange your business accordingly.

First, in order to stay in business you have to keep the lights on. 

After that, everything’s fair game. 

You made it through Mother’s Day. Before you know it we’ll all be reflecting on the spring and summer seasons at Cultivate and other mid-year trade shows.

Then you’ll make plans for next year. 

You’ll meet consultants trying to sell you fancy marketing packages. They’ll show you heat maps and spreadsheets and promise to help you grow beyond your wildest dreams. 

I’m not saying don’t talk to them. (Heck, I AM one. A consultant, that is.) 

I’m saying, find some quiet time between now and July 12. (So, like, July 4) and think about what you want. Not what you think you should want. 

Not what the internet tells you you should want. 

Not what you think the previous generation of business owners would want. 

Not even what is technically possible. 

Think about what you want. 

THEN you can take somebody else’s advice. 

I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT

I REALLY WANT to help local and independent businesses. Like yours.

It’s why I’m doing a big day at Cultivate with my business besties.

It is why I’m refining our signature offerings to hit the sweet spot that my experience shows helps our clients the most. 

It’s why I made this flyer. A flyer full of unsexy yet VERY NECESSARY WORK that local and independent businesses need help with. 

That WE regularly provide, but people didn’t know about.

Do you need help running the daily hamster wheel of your business? 

It is what we do. And I’m proud of it. 

It’s what *I* really want.

---

Handy Links

Each newsletter always has a mix of fun and functional links.  Here they are! Have a link to share? Send it to me!

Can people read your website?

How AI is affecting your brand/business mentions.

Wendy would like EVERYONE ON PLANET EARTH to read this book. (I read it all while waiting at Ortho for my ankle followup. RIP me.) It is PHENOMENAL and if you argue with your web/email designer it will explain a LOT!

We helped facilitate a fun collab between CobraHead tools and Russells Mills Dahlias. You can see Joan’s awesome work promoting it, and learn more about it HERE.

Are AI agents the new buyers? Vi shared this great newsletter with us.

Jenny has a thought provoking new substack called “Jenny’s Dying to Live”

Are you a citrus growing nut or would like to become one? Buy citrus here (our client – they just added some WILD new varieties) and join an equally fanatical community here.

I am LOVING this book (but not finished yet). Beautiful prose and an interesting topic. 

And this book.

Lovelyn went to South Korea for some spring fun and sent us pics.

Heather sends me a lot of funny stuff and I legit cannot put it in the newsletter. You may email to request it. 

Thank you

Thank you to everyone who emailed after last month’s note. Your letters mean more than you can know. 

Find yourself wanting help?  Please take a look at this page and grab a discovery call slot. If we can’t start immediately, we’ll let you know a target start date after we talk.

Talk soon,

ART PS! 
I did some art things since the last newsletter. 

Top: One of my industry colleagues has this adorable lake house and I painted a gouache commission for her. Due to my aforementioned sunlight allergy, I AM OPEN FOR COMMISSIONS THIS SUMMER! THIS NEVER HAPPENS. (I need indoor things to do during the day.) Do you have a special place you’d like painted? Send me an email. The 9×12 paintings (gouache or watercolor) are $150 and that includes shipping FedEx to your house. 

Second: My pictures for the Plein Air festival in Southport, NC. Thankfully it was cool enough for me to wear UV blocking gear head to toe. If you want a painting of a special place in watercolor, the house with the roses is that style!  Those are all 9×12. So is the lake house picture. 

Third: A big 11 x 14 playful watercolor commission for a friend! It is alliums. 

Bottom: I took a pastels class on Wednesday afternoons for 3 weeks. I haven’t finished this one of my garden, but it sure is a fun medium! I love learning new things!