ISSUE 74

19 FEBRUARY 2026 | READ ONLINE​

Hello Reader,

My focus this week is surprisingly domestic:

Deciding whether I’m going to plant a vegetable garden this year.

Now, before you click away, I promise there's method in my madness.

You see, I used to have the kind of garden that made you feel quietly smug. Then we made two small changes that completely changed the game:

1. My husband planted a hedge, and now the garden gets less light (which is important in the Pacific Northwest, where we only get 71 sunny days a year).
2. We discovered we had voles, and one year they ate every single carrot under the ground the day before I was going to harvest them (I’m still not over it).

So now I’m standing there looking at the raised garden beds like they’re a leadership case study:

• It’s going to take real work to clean it out.
• The light is limited.
• The pests are highly motivated.
• And yet, my compost is thriving (and I kinda feel good about that).

Which brings me to the real question:

Am I trying to grow vegetables, or am I trying to grow a version of myself?

Because this isn’t actually a gardening decision. It’s an energy decision.

It’s that familiar tension between:

Beauty vs. practicality

Effort vs. payoff

The 'I love this' life vs. the 'I can’t be bothered' life.

And if we’re being honest, it’s also a control decision.

A garden is one of the most humbling places to learn this truth:

So here's the reframe I'm working with.

The goal isn’t a perfect garden. The goal is a designed garden.

Designed for the reality I have now. Not the reality I had years ago, or the one I wish I had.

In other words: build for constraints.

That’s where my thinking is landing:

• Go smaller, not bigger. A 'minimum viable garden.'
• Choose the easiest wins. Lettuce, zucchini, cherry tomatoes (high joy, relatively forgiving).
• Make it harder for the voles to throw a party. Containers, raised beds, barriers: anything that turns 'easy buffet' into 'not worth it'.
• Add flowers on purpose. If I’m going to spend time out there, it should be beautiful. Even if the vegetable yield is modest.

Because the sneaky lesson (and this is the part I want you to steal for your own life):

When your environment changes, clinging to the old version of the plan is how you exhaust yourself.

Most people don’t burn out because they’re doing something hard.

They burn out because they’re trying to do something hard the old way, in a new season, with new constraints, all while pretending nothing has changed.

And this is why I keep coming back to my compost.

Compost is the ultimate purpose-driven system.

You don’t force it.

You don’t rush it.

You keep showing up.

You let time and consistency do their thing.

(Which, honestly, is also the best leadership strategy most of us refuse to accept until life humbles us.)

There’s also real research behind why this matters: recent reviews of gardening and horticultural interventions suggest benefits for wellbeing and mental health, even while noting that study quality varies and effects depend on the program and context.

• A study on the impact of gardening on well-being, mental health, and quality of life: link here.
• Another study on the effects of gardening activities on health: link here.

I might be onto something!

A Small Experiment for This Week

So, let's take some action. Pick one small experiment.

Option A: The 10-minute 'design for constraints' reset

Think of one thing you keep forcing right now (a project, habit, relationship dynamic, goal).

Then answer:

• What has changed in the environment that I’m pretending hasn’t?
• What’s the smallest version of this that still feels meaningful?
• What would I add to make it easier, and what would I remove to make it lighter?

Option B: The 45-minute 'minimum viable season' plan

Grab a notebook. Finish these:

• This season, I’m optimizing for ____ (pick one: peace, momentum, health, creativity, money, connection).
• The three things I’m willing to tend are: ____ / ____ / ____
• The 'voles' I need to protect against are: ____ (distractions, people-pleasing, scope creep, perfectionism, old expectations)
• My compost habits, the ones that quietly compound, are: ____

If you try either one, hit reply and let me know what you notice.

And if you have strong opinions on vole-proof gardening, I’m listening. 😅

See you next week,

Quick Links

• Find My Book: Clarity in Chaos. Lead with Purpose in Disruptive Times.​
• Subscribe to my podcast with Andreza Araujo, the Headline Podcast.
• Subscribe to my YouTube Channel.