On this exact day last year hay was $320 a bale and I had $700 left in my account.
My mental health was at an all time low… and it wasn’t one of those ’step away from the wheelie bin and lower your spoons’ type of episodes either.
It was the most crushing despair I’d ever felt.
My income had dried up – along with the water and feed. My animals were dying in quick succession and I was in WAY over my head.
For months I’d been off social media because if someone even said “You’re a poo-poo head” I would have swan dived off the closest cliff.
I’d spend hours staring at the back of the couch, then trudge around the farm wondering how I’d fucked up so badly.
And even though the rosehip balm was ready, my head wouldn’t play the game.
“There is no way in God’s green universe you can sell skincare”
“It’s the WORST industry you could choose… It’s saturated with big budgets and people that know what they’re doing…Besides how are you going to sell it? Take selfies of your crying face that has actual poo on it and put it up alongside those people? Please”
“You’ve had some really dumb ideas in your life, Jemima… but this is literally the worse one you’ve ever had”
And with that, I’d turn and stare at the back of the couch.
But today a year ago – the 26th of June, 2025 – I cracked a bottle of wine (probably a cask if I’m honest) and pressed ‘publish’ on the website.
I owed it to my animals to at least give it a crack – and I figured if could sell 20 tins that would buy enough hay to get through the next week.
The website wasn’t even finished.. there were broken links, no contact page and a shopping cart that barely worked but I just kept thinking “20 tins, 20 tins – that’s all you’ve gotta sell “
Seven orders that came in that night and no one called me a poo-poo head.
The next day, packing those orders gave me a reason to get off the couch.
It was the teensiest glimmer of hope…
And make no mistake, I know with absolute certainty, that those glorious beautiful, generous souls were buying for the same reason I buy a sausage at Bunnings.
It’s more about giving a high five in the form of a financial transaction than expecting a quality output.
And fast forward to today – where this business has evolved into the most beautiful clusterfuck I could ever imagine.
You beautiful people helped me dig a dam for wildlife and embraced the poopy, prickly sheep wool when I ran out of ‘proper packaging’
You (mostly) chose not to request a refund from the accidental ‘phlegm batch’
You bought because you were wanking rare parrots off the coast of NZ… (and needed to look good while doing it.)
And in possibly the greatest accidental, penicillin-esque discovery of this century, the chickweed hand balm was put in new places by a brave customer and henceforth we have the greatest giney, sliding salvation for perimenopausal women.
So here I am, 12 months later – honking with laugher and drinking wonderful wine I bartered for balm this week (stand by for slurry reviews).
You’ve helped me keep going, keep planting and keep fighting the good fight for the plants & animals.
You are the village, you are my people and you’re a bunch of funny, funny fuckers xxx
