Welcome to this issue of Stumped by Nature, where we notice nature lurking just beyond our screens, curate a list of outside-y events in Austin, and build community with other folks in the thick of the startup ecosystem.
In this week’s issue:
🌱 Ecological succession
👩💻 New website alert!
🌤️ Upcoming outdoors events
🍆 Local Farmers’ Markets
Let’s dig in!
-Nicole
Upcoming events I’m hosting for ATX Outsiders:
Monday, November 16: (ATX Outsiders + friends) Austin Reading Club: read a book of your choice and meet a couple dozen fellow readers. Solitary hobbies don’t have to be isolating.
Save the date: December 15: We’ve got something creative brewing. More details soon.
NATURE SPOTLIGHT
On a Texas roadtrip, heading west of Austin a couple years ago, I started to wonder about the cedar fields:
Why cedars.
Why everywhere.
I learned just the tip of land succession, enough to be curious but not satisfied.
Today we’re going all the way in.
September 12, 2026, Dripping Springs, snow-on-the-mountain basking in the disturbed soil
Ecological succession is the gradual, semi-predictable process of change. Once we’ve hit bottom, especially after disturbances like floods, fires, farming, or development, succession is a time of change, perhaps even one with healing and growth.
What we see is change: biological populations shift, both in number and in type, and the world benefits from the diversity of vital lands.
There are two types of ecological succession:
Primary succession
When you see a rock coated in lichen, that mysterious little entity is creating brand new soil
They’re called pioneers, which is solid PR/branding, but I’m currently afraid to deep dive on lichen—the way Master Naturalists exhale and shake their heads and say “don’t get me started" makes me believe them
Lichen’s rock munching/soil producing is the key for kicking off grass and brush possibilities
As more plants come in via wind and animals, there’s more competition for light—larger bushes can block plants. The stronger or more dominant can smother what doesn’t adapt. As is life.
May 25, 2026 lichen vs. rock, for the sake of biodiversity
Secondary succession
Call it a comeback—this is when land once had plants/animals, then endured an ecological disturbance, like a natural disaster or human atrocities, and rebuilds using the soil that already exists.
Glowing up in this way is quicker than starting from scratch with rock-to-soil-conversion. It’s an enrichment and nourishment process
There’s a predictable progression:
Pioneer Stage (0-5 years)
You’ll know it by its bare or disturbed soil, annual weeds, and a cast of forbs, like bluebonnets, Blackfoot daisies, prairie verbena, and lemon beebalm. Their beauty is conveniently also structural—they grow quickly to stabilize loose soil, tend to the nutrients, and, in their death, create organic mulch.
Transitional/Shrub Stage (5-20 years)
Get your woody shrubs going. Small pioneer trees root, including ashe juniper, black willow, eastern baccharis, sumac, live oaks, and mesquite.
As the canopy develops, we start rolling in biodiversity
Climax/Woodland Stage (20-100+ years)
Look. There are so many innuendos here. The internet uses these words together: “dominated by mature native hardwoods and deep-rooted perennials.”
The main idea: listening to Taylor Swift’s “Wood” is an appropriate backdrop to this, especially if you make the connection to “Paper Rings” and “Death By A Thousand Cuts” as a triad
But trees, like a variety of oaks, cedar elm, pecans, and native grasses are features of an idyllic little biodiverse domain.
There are some villains in this succession story, including invasive plants (Boo Johnsongrass) and human decision-making that had outsized negative impact (Boo overgrazing and deleting necessary burns.)
And yet, we plod on, building ecological community over time, where biodiversity is good for all.
September 12, 2026, Dripping Springs
I spy lichen, liatris, ashe juniper, and oak, posing as a full sequence of succession
Speaking of ecological succession:
Biomimicry is a thing, and, learning from nature as mentor, here are three quite current human examples:
ONE
When I started writing Stumped by Nature just over a year ago, I uncomfortably embraced momentum—ship before it’s ready, progress not perfection, FAFO, minimum viable product, etc. My litmus test was if I was having fun and indulging in curiosity.
Turns out momentum is a powerful force, and thinking out loud increases the surface area of luck.
Within a few weeks of deciding I’d write a newsletter about nature, I ended up in an HEB parking lot at dawn, crawling into a van with strangers to go watch a bison die.
October 11, 2025: ROAM Ranch, big, matriarchal pollinators
I snagged Ethan Brooks as a mentor. Grabbed a membership at ATX Writing Club to surround myself with other writers.
I went outside a lot.
And I started inviting people to join me.
First, the 2008 Large Tree of the Year.
March 3, 2026
Then nature art, birding, foraging, more birding, bats, more bats, reading and writing at Barton Springs on repeat.
As coffee requests came in, I redirected us to walk and talks—with women, the possibility of woods. With men, Town Lake (for their safety).
Along the way, my cut flower garden popped off.
March 6, 2026. BTW: grab anemone and ranunculus bulbs now—it’s about time to plunk them in the soil for spring cut flower gardening (!!!)
And week over week, my life changed. From intentional curiosity, from the discipline of thinking and trying to figure out how two (or three or seven) thoughts weave into something moderately coherent, from thinking and growing alongside other folks in this broad and hyperlocal space.
Along the way, I created a community so I wouldn’t be the bottleneck for people who would like each other to actually meet each other.
Along the way, many people told me how much my minimum viable product website sucked, and I agreed.
Then one day, my pal said something beautiful:
Yes, Zac. Yes you can.
And now there’s a new place on the internet to hold this little world we’re creating.
The start of a nature-tangential business directory, for when you want to dig into local nature opportunities
And a way to connect with the folks who are also outside-y and curious
TWO
Roughly three years ago, I googled “What is venture capital?” when I was asked to interview for an executive assistant role at an early stage fund here in town.
At that time, my primary role was full-time parenting, with some light personal and executive assistant work during naps/after bedtime. And some pre-school board fundraising. And some Get Out the Vote nonprofit consulting.
But the time had come to graduate from my marriage, and changing my own child’s diapers, unfortunately, paid zero dollars, and I needed health insurance.
So I burned down a version of life that wasn’t working, with a lot of hope that the soil was equipped to support a life with more vitality.
I learned about VC firsthand.
With my time as a not-main-character in venture capital, I had this incredibly fun access point where my motivation at Proto-Town or Deep Tech Week was to amuse myself with outing the birders and beekeepers, pop quizzing people if they could tell the difference between astro turf and real soil (spoiler: not everyone passed this test, and OMG we need to have a well-lit walk around Town Lake about this), and the one time I convinced my team that the swag we needed for our event at the range with defense tech founders was obviously handmade bracelets to coincide with the release of The Life of a Showgirl.
October 3, 2025. Now the sky is Opalite
Meanwhile at work: excellent people, fascinating ideas, such an interesting peek at how people are building and which entire new worlds opened up as Series As become unrecognizable, LLMs changed the entire landscape, and I learned things about dinosaur bones and welding and how much a slab of sea bed floor weighs.
I also learned that you can just do things—a nurtured idea can grow into anything from a fleet of autonomous maritime vessels to a trip to the Amazon to discover a new species of praying mantis. And it’s been such a fascinating journey.
Yesterday was my last day at Ensemble.
It’s very hard to move on from a role that was so transformative, with such great people.
And also, there’s ecological succession here, where the canopy continues to shift and new possibilities thrive from this enriched soil. I’m excited to grow, with new ecosystems and new depths to explore.
THREE
I learned the phrase hopescrolling yesterday.
How slowly and so quickly the landscape can change when the soil is ripe for a shift.
The momentum of it all
For the full symbolism, it’s fitting that I’ll be spending no fewer than 16 hours in a two-seater over the next handful of days, meandering from Appalachian edges through roadside oddities, reuniting with old landscapes through a new lens. That this time of transitions will have ditch flowers and full tree canopies to mark the change.
A study:
What happens when you ask for what you need.
When you make yourself available for the good to find you.
When you show up as you are, over and over and over, and it’s all part of the adventure.
UPCOMING EVENTS
🗓️ November 6: Pitch and Run ATX: See what happens over 4.2 miles
🗓️ November 6: Playground Design 101: Tour with the designer of Alliance Children’s Garden, then play and sketch
🗓️ November 6–15: Wurstfest: Lots of sausage potential
🗓️ November 7: The Board Walks: Always worthwhile
🗓️ November 7: Cyclovia ATX: The cyclers and the mushroom people have formed an alliance. Free mushroom blocks. Kid-paced bike parade at 11:30
🗓️ November 7: Birding & Nature Hike at Nalle Bunny Run: Ticket sales end today for this loaner-binoculars-available hike
🗓️ November 7: Open House: Butler Trail & Seaholm Waterfront: Add your two cents on what the old water intake becomes
🗓️ November 7: Moonlight Nature Night: Night hikes + nocturnal animals
🗓️ November 7: Diwali: Festival of Light at Mozart’s: Lots of lights
🗓️ November 7: Dusk to Dark Star Party & Nature Night: get some dark skies just outside of Austin
🗓️ November 7–8: Austin Celtic Festival & Highland Games: Expect grown adults throwing tree trunks
🗓️ November 8: Writers Walk: part of a writing life is living a life
🗓️ November 8: Hike Like a Geologist: expect rock talk
🗓️ November 8: The Night Shift: Austin’s Native Bats: Meet at the Really Small Museum art installation to chat with THE artist + our Austin Bat Refuge buddies
🗓️ November 8: Horses & Pilates: Someone was just telling me they wanted to ride horses before EOY—this is for you
🗓️ November 8: Botanical Blues: Cyanotype Workshop: make some art with the power of the sun
🗓️ November 9: Seed Gathering: your spring garden awaits in an envelope
🗓️ November 9: Bat City Screening & Celebration: RSVP by end of day—Skip’s one of the brains behind this!
🗓️ November 10: Hill Climbers Tuesday Ride: An early spin
🗓️ November 12: Austin Ruck Club: Get heavy
🗓️ November 12: Birds in the Landscape: plants + birds is a great combo
LOCAL FARMERS’ MARKETS
👩🌾 Arboretum Food & Artisan Market
👩🌾 Barton Creek Farmers Market
👩🌾 SFC Farmers’ Market Downtown
👩🌾 SFC Farmers’ Market Sunset Valley
👩🌾 Texas Farmers’ Market at Bell
👩🌾 Texas Farmers’ Market at Mueller
PANTRY MOTH UPDATE
I wrote about my pantry moth infestation on June 25, 2026.
I’m aiming for at least 45 moth-free days before I reclaim my pantry.
But they looked fertile
That’s all for this week!
In the meantime, I hope you’re lichen the momentum.
-Nicole
OPTIONAL SIDE QUESTS
🪵 Shall we take this outside? Of course. Join ATX Outsiders.
🪵 Are you sitting on a misogi-esque story? Spill.
🪵 Follow my calendar to know when we’re rallying.
🪵 Is this newsletter not your vibe? Forward it to your enemies to make them suffer too.
💰It’s safe to assume there are affiliate links, and I’ll monetarily benefit from any purchases you make. Hooray, capitalism! So far, this newsletter has generated $7.20 of cold hard cash. 💸