A Lesson from the Orangery

11/12/2025 | Ashley Pyle

The first time I walked into the Linnean House at the Missouri Botanical Garden, I was struck by the quiet magic of it. It’s the oldest operating greenhouse of its kind in America — an orangery designed to make the impossible possible. In the middle of a St. Louis winter, citrus trees bloom with purpose.

The orangery became symbolic for me on what it takes to create something that can thrive in unlikely conditions — the patience, the care, the belief that growth is still possible even when the environment says otherwise.

Inspired, my husband bought me a lemon tree.

It sounded simple enough: a sunny window, a good pot, and a bit of stubborn optimism. But along the way, something unexpected happened. On a snowy January day, the tree burst into tiny white flowers that filled our home with a bright, intoxicating fragrance. And I learned that if I wanted fruit, I’d have to hand-pollinate each blossom. There was no breeze or bee to do it for me.

Growth, I realized, requires participation.

(Pollinating the flowers became a family affair.)

That same truth has guided my journey as a transplant here in St. Louis. The opportunities I’ve had to serve and give back didn’t just appear; they grew from showing up, putting in the reps, and forming connections that allowed me the opportunity to be part of our city’s story.

Through my work at GadellNet Consulting Services, I’ve seen how small, deliberate actions can lead to transformation. What began as a little IT firm has become a B Corp with a purpose — using technology and AI to make work more human, creative, and fulfilling. Our cyber teams protect small businesses and non-profits, and our help desk and consulting teams make sure they thrive.

That same belief carries through my service on the Board of the Girl Scouts of Eastern Missouri, where I see young leaders already taking root — bold, curious, and eager to lead with heart. Through my newest Advisory Board work with Per Scholas, I’m inspired by learners redefining what opportunity in tech can look like. Getting involved with TechSTL and speaking at events like STL Tech Week, I’ve watched our innovation community blossom, proving that this city is fertile ground when collaboration meets intention. This curiosity and desire to do work greater than myself took me across the state during a year-long symposium with the Greater Missouri Leadership Challenge. I am forever grateful for the talented changemakers I still stay in touch with to this day.

But this story is far bigger than me. By engaging with Greater St. Louis, Inc., I’ve seen how persistence and shared purpose can unite a region around inclusive growth — not just in plans, but in everyday leadership. I saw this in important and profound ways during the tornado response after May 16. That resilience isn’t just civic, it’s the necessary work that must stay coordinated to happen.

Right now, my lone lemon is growing and still green, on a tree full of fall flowers. Outside in the elements, it is covered in pollinators doing coordinated work. In a few weeks, I anticipate my little lemon-that-could will be bright yellow and ready to pick. And my tree will be ready to overwinter again in my living room.

St. Louis, I’ll leave you with a simple message that has carried me through many years in my leadership journey:

“The day you plant the seed, is not the day you eat the fruit.”