What gardening reminds me about leadership.

(Originally posted on LinkedIn)

I was raised among women who garden. My mom and grandmother spent evenings and weekends with their hands in the dirt—watering, tending, coaxing life from the soil.

My mama, Junebug and I enjoy the tulips and sunshine outside of Seattle, WA

Over the years, I’ve dabbled in gardening myself. But like many things, life got in the way. Still, every time mom came to visit, she’d help get things going again.

Lately, at the ranch, in addition to repotting the (neglected) plants I brought back from California—which, under my mom’s care, found new life—I’ve been tending to her vegetable garden. It’s nothing fancy—just a patch of dirt bordered by railroad ties.

This weekend, I stood in the garden staring at a sea of tall green… somethings. Swiss chard, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes—maybe. But it was hard to tell. They were choked out by weeds.

So I crouched down and got to work.

There’s something meditative about pulling weeds. It’s methodical, satisfying. You’re giving good things room to breathe again. And as I worked, the leadership metaphors started to take root.

Even the healthiest teams can get crowded out by distractions, burnout, or competing priorities. Your job as a leader? Notice. Make space. Offer care.

But weeds are stubborn. Hard to pull when the ground is too dry/wet. Even in the right conditions, they resist. Sometimes they just break off and grow back.

As my mom stepped out to call me back inside—“It’s too hot to be doing this,” she said, echoing my usual words—I laughed. “Just a few more minutes,” I replied.

You can pull weeds all day and still barely make a dent. Your back starts to ache. And that’s when it hits you: caring for others means caring for yourself, too.

But if you don’t pull the weeds now, they’ll be there later, when it’s time to till and replant. One way or another, they’re coming up. Avoiding the mess only delays the growth.

Then there’s pruning. Some stalks are past their prime. Draining energy from the rest. It’s hard to cut them off, but it’s the right thing to do. Same with teams. Sometimes a role, process, or person needs to shift. It’s not easy, but it’s essential for growth. Those stalks will go on to feed the chickens. Still valuable, just in a different ecosystem.

And of course, pulling weeds isn’t enough. A garden needs to be fed. The soil needs nutrients. The plants need water. Sun. It’s the same with people. You can clear space all day long—but if you’re not also offering support, encouragement, opportunity, you’ll still come up short.

Growth doesn’t happen by accident. It takes attention. Consistency. Discernment. And care.

And it isn’t one person’s job. It takes all of us. Noticing what needs support. Making things better than we found them. If only one person cares and feeds, you’ll never realize the true potential. Anybody can tend. And everybody should.

Whether it’s tomatoes or teams, the yield reflects the investment. What you water will thrive. What you prune will strengthen. And what you make space for will surprise you.