A reflection on slow business growth, seasonal expansion and what building a sustainable small business really looks like.

I’m feeling particularly nostalgic at the moment. We are in the process of moving house (we are buying with my parents, and will be living with them and my grandpa - what a lucky girl I am and what a noisy house the eight of us will be!)

I keep going to our usual jaunts and sighing, wistfully that: “this will be the last time I go to this Tesco Express…” (seriously, that shop has got me through many a tricky morning with a baby or provided me with a pint of milk…) or “this is the last time we walk to the park…” In reality we’re only moving 30 minutes away, and I’m sure we’ll be back for play dates and natters with pals.

But there is one place more than any other that I have such affection and, well, longing for. A place that’s provided me with joy, succour, warmth, comfort and good coffee. As a business owner and coach who talks often about sustainable business growth and seasonal living, I could not help noticing the parallels. And this place has taught me more about growing a business slowly, sustainably and seasonally more than any online guru ever has. Here’s why…

In the Beginning…

We moved to our house nearly 10 years ago. A walking distance away was an old, rickety barn, owned by a lavender farm whose main land was about 10 minutes up the road. Quite by chance in December 2017 we noticed a handwritten sign saying “Christmas decs here". How homespun and wholesome, I know, but also completely delightful in the way in which we stumbled upon it (child 2 in a sling, child 1 toddling along). So this barn: it was literally just a barn. Freezing cold, no heating, one massive chiminea in the corner that merrily smoked away to the extent that one wondered how on earth it was allowed.

Inside this cavernous space were their lavender soaps and oils, a scattering of Christmas ornaments, and two staff members in winter coats. The “shop in a barn” only opened for one month a year, and for the next few Decembers we’d bundle up the children, walk down to the barn, and both children would choose an ornament.

So far, so simple. Imagine my delight then, when - six months pregnant with our third child and on a waddle walk - I spotted a sign outside the barn saying that they were developing the barn. And develop it they did! The old barn was knocked down and a beautiful wooden building slowly and steadily put up in its place. What would go in, you ask? Lavender products, christmas decorations and now a small cafe! The rest of the space wasn’t open to the public, but I was thrilled. I had a nice place I knew I’d be able to walk to with a newborn and have a coffee away from the washing pile and unloading the dishwasher.

By the time my son was born in June, the cafe space was just opening. When October rolled around, the shop had expanded and was offering stationery, little gifts and homemade cakes. There was a small space to sit, a small space to browse, and a lovely family-run business growing a new strand.

Some more months passed, and some temporary walls went up. Anyone walking in would hear hammering and drilling from the other side. To compensate for this the owners and their staff would enthusiastically explain their plans, and offer discounted coffee if one was sitting down. Although the noise wasn’t always ideal, there was a charm and an intimacy to following a business that was visibly becoming something more.

One day, the wall came down and - paging all my fellow millenials - you could now get smashed avo and poached eggs! And more: not just cakes, but proper lunches, generous portions, beautiful homemade food served with such pride. And over the next months the shop continued to grow. Lavender, yes, but also cookware, homeware, seasonal displays, thoughtfully curated gifts and decorations for every time of year.

What Sustainable Business Growth Actually Looks Like

This beautiful business flirted with various ideas. They added workshops. They hosted community events. At one point they even staged a musical in the field behind the building. And recently, they closed off the small area where the old coffee hatch had been, ready to turn it into an even larger shop. Out the back, the café has been extended again with more space, more seating and even more atmosphere.

All of this — every expansion, every shift, every layer — has happened gradually and at a pace that suited them. They never jumped ahead of themselves. They never rushed. They never tried to pretend they were further along than they were. Instead, they tested, listened, built, refined and developed and evolved the business when they were genuinely ready. Watching this family-run small business evolve over nearly a decade has reshaped how I think about growing my own business.

Watching this (and buying a lot of their lovely coffee) has taught me far more about sustainable business growth than any book or online strategy ever has. I’ve learned that the most sustainable kind of growth is the sort that honours your actual life, your capacity, your resources and your sense of timing. I’ve learned that people are far more tolerant of transition than we think, and far more willing to come along for the ride when you invite them in. They put up with the banging. They step around the mess. They become part of the story, because they’re so invested, and genuinely so proud of the evolution. They’ll champion you through every stage because it feels like a privilege to witness something growing with intention.

Most importantly, it reminded me that growth does not need to be dramatic to be meaningful. It can be steady, seasonal, and built from the inside out. It can look like trying one small thing, then another, then another, each step laying the ground for the next. We are often told to scale quickly, but learning how to grow a business slowly has been one of the most powerful lessons of my career.

This lavender farm build has taught me to grow at my own pace, not the pace of the industry or the internet (or Instagram!). It’s taught me to experiment, to refine, to expand when I’m ready and not before. It’s reassured me that my clients, my readers and my community will walk with me through the changes if I let them, if I trust them, and if I trust myself.

What started as a cold barn with a smoky heater is now a thriving, beloved hub of creativity, community and nourishment. Watching them build layer upon layer has made me braver in building my own world too.

Slow growth is still growth. And it’s seasonal and sustainable. All my favourite things. As a coach for multipassionate women building sustainable businesses, this lesson has hugely impacted me.

With love,

Laura