Beating the August Heat: Prepping the Fall & Winter Greenhouse

August in Alabama is notoriously hot, but if you want a thriving fall and winter harvest, right now is exactly when you need to start getting your hands dirty. Having a greenhouse is a huge advantage for extending the growing season, so I am rolling up my sleeves this weekend to get the fall crop preparation underway. Here is a look at what is going into the dirt this weekend, what is on the schedule for later this fall, and the long game for spring. 🌱 What I’m Planting This Weekend The planting window is perfectly timed right now, so these are the priority seeds going into the setup: Baby Broccoli: I just picked up these seeds, and they are going straight into the dirt! The window for broccoli closes by mid-August, and it is well-suited for direct seeding into the soil rather than using transplants. Spinach: The window also closes by mid-August. Because spinach has shallow roots, these seeds are going straight into the vertical stackable planters. Leaf Lettuce: Perfect for plantin...

What I Liked as a Kid—and What That Says About Me Now

What I Liked as a Kid — And What That Says About Me Now

“What did you like when you were a kid?”

That’s what my son asked me recently. He’s still in elementary school, full of curiosity and surprising wisdom. I paused—surprised more by the question's depth than by my own lack of an immediate answer.

I didn’t grow up with a standout talent. No trophies for piano recitals. No natural athletic streak. No artistic flair that turned heads. But what I did like was being good at school.

Not because it came easily. Not because I was naturally gifted. But because I could earn it. Good grades didn’t need money or privilege or brilliance—they needed focus, consistency, and quiet determination. That was something I could cultivate, even when everything else felt outside my control.

School was my structure. My safety net. My validation. It was how I built self-worth when support systems were limited and resources were scarce. It showed me that effort could translate into progress—and that became a central belief I carried into adulthood.

Yesterday, after a work meeting that didn’t go so well, those feelings resurfaced. I felt like I’d let myself down. No harsh feedback, just a nagging sense that I hadn’t shown up as the best version of myself.

Shame crept in—not loud or dramatic, just subtly, like a shadow around the edges. And then, my son’s question echoed again. I realized: my strength has never been in perfection. It’s always been in persistence.

Being good at school didn’t mean being flawless. It meant showing up. It meant trying again. It meant believing that consistent effort has value.

And maybe, on days when my confidence falters, that reminder is more important than ever.


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