Oh what a time to be barely alive!

Thanks for not making me do this alone.

This is the current state of my always barely alive fiddle leaf fig. It periodically drops all of its leaves to keep me humble. Grow lamps really make night lighting sexy though.

Those of you who have been with me since the beginning remember when we all stayed home together and started gardening. We were all in our own little silos but we were in there together. I loved that time. For the last almost fifteen years prior, I’d been running a graphic design business. Sometimes it was just me, sometimes I’d assemble a little team of other artists and web developers, but it was always my job to hustle up the next project, to keep the lights on. When the pandemic started, it felt like an absolute gift to be at home and unable to work. The last big job I’d had was art directing the Texas Film Awards, which is a huge gala that the Austin Film Society throws every year to induct honorees into the Texas Film Hall of Fame while raising money to support Austin filmmakers. Erykah Badu attended in a Gucci spacesuit. Parker Posey was the emcee. Everyone at my table got Covid that night except somehow me. It was the last time I saw anyone besides my husband in person for months.

Burnout loomed larger than the pandemic

Part of why I have never thus far done any sort of garden consulting or garden builds and installations is that during this time when all of my work came to a sudden stop, I came to realize how toasted my entire nervous system was. I didn’t know much about burnout or its signs and symptoms. All I knew is that it felt so incredibly good to be outside. To not have responsibilities. To not have clients. The idea of going back to client needs and delivery schedules was enough to make me spiral. But unencumbered from any whim but my own, my love of design returned. I launched my website and began working on my first seed collection. I chose seeds that would be easy for beginners to grow. My thinking was that so many new gardeners spend a lot of money and effort trying to grow crops that just don’t do well in the heat of Austin. Looking back at these selections, I feel now that some were maybe a little ambitious—leeks!— and some I’ve retired in favor of new cultivars (Green Magic is now my go to broccoli). It was overall a great introduction to the Joy Max gardening method. Organically growing native plants, food, and flowers alongside each other and sowing seeds that do well in our challenging conditions while disturbing the soil as little as possible.

The very first Joy Max seed collection, released Fall 2020

That was the beginning. Starting this Substack is making me nostalgic for it. A year and a half after lockdown ended, I took a full-time job as creative director for a startup nonprofit. I could no longer devote nearly as much time to my garden or to Joy Max. My seed packets had evolved to use more illustration, something that continued to nourish my creative spirit. But creating even one new seed offering was so laborious. For each new product, I illustrate and design the labels. Print them. Order the seeds. Pack the seeds. Write a grow guide. Create a web page for the product. Manage and fulfill the orders. Do all the marketing and social media. That takes, let’s say, conservatively, about 20 hours. Most of my seeds cost around $3. So even if I sell 100 of them, I’ve made a grand total of $300. It became much more manageable to just restock existing selections than innovate new ones. I started pining for an opportunity to open a brick-and-mortar shop where I could curate nature-inspired goods and sell them alongside my own. Where I wouldn’t be isolated at home at my computer or in my backyard. Where I could hire other designers to help me introduce new products. Where I could enthusiastically start doing garden consults and hiring a team to do installs. I gave notice at my job and stepped back into a consultant capacity. I began to create my business plan and intended to approach investors. I was so excited.

Then the election happened.

I don’t have to explain what that change feels like. Not just a change in the administration but in the very notion of what this country is. Who our neighbors are. How many of them chose this. On purpose.

I spiraled.

Then I went back into my garden.

I’ll leave it there for now. I do want to say that I’m not in the depths of despair anymore. I am hopeful. I have my fighting spirit back. And I have lots of plans to share with you. I want to thank you for following me. If I can cultivate enough subscribers here, it will give me the freedom to focus on Joy Max Jardin fulltime. I know that won’t be easy, but its giving me new focus and energy. It’s nice to feel that again.