The Watermelon Lesson: Why Sustainable Growth Requires Multiple Seasons

In early May, I planted four varieties of watermelon seeds in my Texas garden: Tigger melons, Sugar Babies, Desert King, and Yamato. As a New York native who grew up in an apartment in Brooklyn, gardening wasn't part of my upbringing—concrete was my landscape, not soil. But here I was in Texas, following expert advice, preparing the soil, watering diligently, and waiting for the sweet reward of homegrown fruit. What happened next taught me more about business than any textbook ever could.

Those melons grew to the size of grapefruits, and then something unexpected happened—they stopped. One by one, they shriveled up right there on the vine, victims of the relentless Texas heat that turns gardens into proving grounds. I had done everything "right" according to the guides, but nature had other plans.

So I did what any stubborn gardener (or entrepreneur) would do: I planted again in late June.

Three Summers, One Season

If you've never experienced a Texas summer, let me paint you a picture. There aren't four seasons here—there are three variations of summer, each with its own personality and challenges.

First comes the mild heat—the get-ready-to-plant phase. Temperatures are climbing, the soil is warming up, and everything feels full of possibility. This is when you put seeds in the ground with optimism, believing that growth is just around the corner.

Then arrives the extreme heat—the survival phase. This is when whatever grows either thrives or burns. There's no middle ground. The sun is oppressive, the air feels thick, and you're just hoping your plants (and your air conditioning bill) can make it through. Some things flourish. Most things struggle.

Finally, there's the third summer—what the calendar calls fall but Texans know as bearable heat. Temperatures climb to the mid-nineties, but after months of hundred-degree days, ninety feels like a gift. This is when things that couldn't survive earlier suddenly find their moment.

My second planting in late June? Those watermelons grew bigger than pomelos. I was thrilled—until the wildlife discovered them. One morning, I walked out to find my beautiful melons chewed through, nature taking its share before I could claim mine.

When Adversity Becomes Your Teacher

Here's where most people would quit. I had two failed attempts, conflicting results, and now wildlife was busy adding insult to injury. But something shifted in my thinking. I stopped asking "What am I doing wrong?" and started asking "What is this trying to teach me?"

In August, despite what every planting guide said about timing, I dropped seeds again. This time, I wasn't following expert advice—I was following my intuition, shaped by experience. I had learned the rhythm of my garden, the personality of my soil, the patterns of the heat.

In late September, I bit into the sweetest Desert King watermelon I've ever tasted. It wasn't just the flavor that hit me—it was the realization: Timing was everything. And timing couldn't be learned from a book. It had to be earned through persistence and response.

For a Brooklyn kid who grew up surrounded by sidewalks and stoops, this garden continues to teach me lessons that amaze me every season. Nature doesn't care about my timeline or expectations—it operates on its own rhythm. And somehow, that's become one of the most valuable business lessons I've learned since moving to Texas.

Business Has Seasons Too

Your business operates in cycles just like my garden. There are seasons of planting, seasons of scorching heat, and seasons of harvest. The mistake most early-stage entrepreneurs make is treating every season the same, applying the same strategies regardless of the conditions around them.

In business, things are seasonal and cyclical. In the times when things appear to be slowing down—as they often do in Southern states during the extreme summer heat—that's not necessarily a sign of failure. It's often the perfect time to reflect on whether a pivot or change is necessary, or whether you simply need to wait for your season.

The hard part? Knowing the difference.

Recognizing When to Pivot vs. When to Persist

My watermelon journey taught me that expert advice can only take you so far. What matters most is how you respond to adversity and whether you're paying attention to the signals your business is sending you.

Here are the questions I now ask myself when business feels slow or stuck:

Is this a timing issue or a strategy issue? My first watermelon planting failed because of timing—the heat was too extreme. My second failed because of factors outside my control (wildlife). My third attempt succeeded because I adjusted my timing based on what I'd learned. Sometimes your product or service is solid, but the market isn't ready yet. Other times, you need to fundamentally change your approach.

Am I getting different results with the same actions? Notice that my second planting produced much larger melons than my first. I used the same seeds, the same soil, but different timing. In business, if you're getting wildly different results from the same efforts, you might be in the wrong season for that particular strategy. Pay attention to those variations—they're telling you something.

What's in my control vs. what's not? I couldn't control the wildlife, but I could control when I planted and how I protected my crop. In slow business seasons, focus on what you can influence: your skills, your network, your positioning, your messaging. Let go of what you can't: the economy, your competitors' moves, market trends beyond your reach.

Am I quitting because it's hard, or because it's wrong? There's a difference between persistence and stubbornness. Persistence is planting a third time with adjusted timing and new knowledge. Stubbornness is planting in May again and expecting different results. The key is learning from each attempt, not just repeating it.

What is this season asking me to do? During extreme heat, my garden wasn't asking me to grow—it was asking me to prepare, to observe, to learn. During the bearable heat of "fall," it was finally ready to produce. Your business has seasons that ask different things of you. Sometimes it's growth. Sometimes it's consolidation. Sometimes it's pivoting. Sometimes it's simply surviving until conditions improve.

The Real Strategy Is Response

Building a business often feels slower than we'd like. We see other people's highlight reels, their September harvests, without seeing their May failures or their June setbacks. We compare our extreme heat season to someone else's bearable heat season and wonder what we're doing wrong.

But growth takes time—just like a seed forming roots before it sprouts. Those roots you're developing during the slow season? They're what will sustain you when your harvest season finally arrives.

Patience isn't just a virtue in business—it's a strategy. But it's not passive patience. It's active, responsive patience. It's the patience that plants again in August when conventional wisdom says you've missed your window. It's the patience that learns from shriveled melons and wildlife raids and uses that information to make better decisions.

The experts can give you guidelines, frameworks, and best practices. And you should listen to them—they're valuable. But they can't tell you the specific timing for your business, in your market, with your unique circumstances. That wisdom comes from paying attention, responding to what's actually happening, and trusting what you're learning along the way.

Your Growing Season

So if you're in a slow season right now, ask yourself: Is this my extreme heat phase, where I need to focus on survival and preparation? Or is this my bearable heat phase, where conditions are finally right for growth? Am I trying to force a May harvest when I'm built for September success?

The seasons will change. They always do. Your job isn't to control the weather—it's to recognize what season you're in and respond accordingly.

Sometimes that means pivoting. Sometimes it means persisting. And sometimes, it means planting one more time in August, even when everyone says you're too late.

I'd love to hear about your business seasons. What's your watermelon story? When did you learn that timing mattered more than expert advice? Share your experience in the comments—your story might be exactly what another entrepreneur needs to hear today. 🌱

Building something meaningful takes time. Sometimes it takes multiple attempts. But if you keep planting, keep learning, and keep responding to what each season teaches you, your harvest will come.