I Didn’t Plan This Life - But I’m Grateful For It

People sometimes assume I’ve always been “into gardening.”

That this was the dream.

That Shell on Earth was part of some long, carefully mapped out plan.

It wasn’t.

If you’d told me ten years ago that I’d be running a family business built around crushed whelk shells - in West Wales - while renovating a Dutch barn and talking about soil health on the internet… I genuinely would have laughed.

There was no masterplan.

There was no five-year strategy.

There was just life unfolding.

And a lot of figuring it out as we went.

During the early days of Shell on Earth we spent a lot of time exploring the beaches around us. The fresh sea air has a way of bringing clarity and inspiration - and a slap across the face always helps to ground you!

I Didn’t Grow Up Wanting To Be An Entrepreneur

I grew up surrounded by strong women.

My Mamgu’s farmhouse living room. Sunday afternoon tea. The quiet hum of family life. No big speeches about ambition or “building empires.”

Just resilience. Practicality. Getting on with it.

Entrepreneurship wasn’t really a word in our world.

You worked hard. You made do. You didn’t waste things.

Looking back, I realise that mindset shaped everything - including Shell on Earth.

Because at its heart, this business is about not wasting something that already exists.

It’s about seeing value where others might not.

It’s about circular thinking before I even knew that was what it was called.

Me with my grandparents, brothers and cousins in my grandparents’ garden (don’t judge the fringe!). There are 18 of us grandchildren on my mum’s side of the family, so the house could get quite full from time to time.

The Barn Wasn’t Supposed To Happen Either

The Dutch barn renovation wasn’t planned either.

If I'm honest, it felt wildly out of our depth.

We went over budget. We second-guessed ourselves constantly. There were moments where it felt overwhelming.

But here’s something people might not know about me:

I am much braver than I used to be.

Motherhood changed me.

When you’ve survived the intensity of a traumatic birth, newborn days, the weight of responsibility, the identity shift that no one really prepares you for - a renovation doesn’t feel quite as frightening.

Hard? Yes.

Scary? Sometimes.

But not impossible.

And that’s been a theme in my life.

I'm not fearless - I'm just willing.

We believe the Dutch barn was originally built in June 1963

I Almost Didn’t Post

There are so many posts that you may have seen that I nearly didn’t share.

Photos I thought weren’t “good enough.”Reels I thought sounded silly. Thoughts that I worried were too honest.

I still catch myself sometimes thinking:

“Is this worthy?”

Worthy of the grid. Worthy of attention. Worthy of being seen.

And then I think about my grandmother - she had a face that I never once looked at and thought needed fixing. To me, she was perfect.

And I wonder why we’re so quick to do that to ourselves.

So sometimes when I post something that feels slightly vulnerable or unpolished, it’s not because I’m confident.

It’s because I’m choosing not to shrink.

Shells Were Never Just About Shells

People often assume the shells are purely decorative.

And yes - they’re beautiful.

They brighten pots. They elevate borders. They make everything feel finished.

But for me, they represent something bigger.

They represent:

• Using what we already have.

• Supporting local fishermen.

• Reducing waste.

• Creating something sustainable.

• Building something as a family.

They represent the fact that a small idea can quietly grow.

They represent the courage to try.

Saundersfoot fishermen, Liam and Harry, have been landing whelks for us for many years.

I Still Don’t Have It All Figured Out

That might be the biggest surprise.

From the outside, businesses can look polished and intentional.

Behind the scenes?

It’s packing orders with cold hands in winter. It’s answering emails late at night and at weekends. It’s reworking labels and packaging. It’s making mistakes. It’s constantly learning.

It’s gratitude.

So much gratitude.

For customers who choose us. For messages that say “I saw your product in Okells today.”For people who tell our story in garden centres like they’re on commission (true story- thanks Tom!).

I honestly don’t take any of it for granted.

The Best Part?

The best part is that it still feels like we’re just getting started.

Our garden is maturing. The borders are settling. The business is gaining momentum. The children are growing.

And I’m growing too.

Not into someone completely different.

Just more into myself.

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If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:

You don’t need a perfect plan. You don’t need to feel completely ready. You don’t need to be fearless.

You just need to take the next step.

And sometimes that step looks like crushed shells on the surface of a pot.

Small. Simple. Practical.

But quietly transformative.

Looking back, the things that shaped my life the most rarely began with grand plans.

They started quietly - an idea, a moment of curiosity, a step taken before I fully knew where it would lead.

Because often, that’s all it takes.

“What you do today can improve all your tomorrows.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson