In Our Flourishing Era

A brief on the next season of FALLOW.

I have two radish plants in my garden that I recently let flower and go to seed. Instead of harvesting delectable, edible root vegetables to enjoy in the here and now, I’ve been waiting and letting the plants put all energy, all reserves, into producing flowers and seeds.

It’s a simple sacrifice that looks less like a loss and more like an investment. A growth, a gain. While letting my plants go to seed means I won’t enjoy them now, astonishingly it does mean I will enjoy the flourishing of them for infinite seasons to come.

It’s been one year of embracing the science of seeds, trusting that even and especially because of waiting through the longest season of preservation and being pulled back, FALLOW would not only find its way back, but flourish.

Thank you, to the many of you, who continued to send encouraging notes in the absence and silence of this place. Your words were the water that showered and sustained my energy and efforts behind the scenes, under the surface, in the ground.

Continuing with the gardening metaphor, there is still so much work to do with and for FALLOW. This garden is ambitious, dreams dreams, has its fair share of relentless weeds, and irrevocably needs the unstoppable kindness of a warm and gracious sun.

That said, here I am, announcing plans that are imperfect and still in process. As much of gardening is risk-taking (plotting and planting at the risk of extreme weather, pests, and disease), I have also come to learn the same is true of business.

To continue to follow my heart and dreams for FALLOW means committing to a journey of risk-taking—of shifting and adapting, of welcoming winter and letting things die, of changing while also keeping up with the changes around me, of breathing new dreams to life, of making careful and costly investments for future seasons that are not yet but someday will be.

It’s exhilarating, beautiful, and terrifying all at once. Still, the thrill of it all is knowing, no matter the season, the labor and lessons yielded will become a bounty to be shared with countless others, in countless ways, for countless years to come.

of The Next Season

• As of July 11, 2025, weekly letters on Substack will resume. These letters will be available to all subscribers, paid and unpaid.

• Beginning July 18, 2025, paid subscriptions will be unpaused and resume.

• Beginning August 1, 2025, monthly snail mail letters on all things creativity will be mailed to only paid subscribers. (More on this soon.)

• Beginning in September, limited collections of seasonal, small batch, handmade creations (made by yours truly), will be available for purchase. (More on this soon.)

I’ve dreamed and sensed and known for quite some time that FALLOW was to become more than what it was when it first began. I am learning to embrace and accept the multifaceted becoming of FALLOW. Like a rose, with many layers. Like a garden, with many flowers. Like a life, with many seasons. Like a house, with many rooms.

What if the changes are not signs of failure,
but stories of your flourishing?

What if the changes are not signs of failure,
but stories of your flourishing?

What if the changes are not signs of failure,
but stories of your flourishing?

Stay tuned for next week’s letter, as well as more details and updates to come. As always, know your comments and questions are welcome in this place.

In the meantime, go and grow, dear ones. Pull back and preserve your energy. Release the pressure to produce something just to have proof of your productivity. Let your season, slowly but surely, give way to unseen seeds that will bring future flourishing.

It will be beautiful. It will be bigger than you possibly could have ever imagined. It will demand that you be brave and become something more than you ever thought possible. But, oh, will it touch and tend to so many more lives than just your own.

What a garden it will be.