Laura: owner & Creative Director
Green Apple Lane owner/founder Laura Heymann knew she would be a graphic designer ever since working on her high school newspaper. After studying journalism at UT Austin and working in the magazine industry for several years across Austin, Las Vegas, and Dallas, she began designing invitations and logos for friends on a freelance basis as "Art by Ellie" in 2009. Once the workload increased, she left her day-job as an Art Director, making Art by Ellie a full-time operation in 2010. After several years of steady growth, in Spring 2016, all business design and marketing services were moved under the umbrella of Green Apple Lane and the rest is history!
She holds a bachelor's degree from Texas Woman's University with a dual emphasis in business and women's studies, and she currently lives in North Texas with her husband (they are already "empty nesters," thanks to the magic of adopting older kiddos)!
Heymann can be reached for artistic commissions or consulting services for designers and stationers here.
Megan: Graphic Designer
Megan finished her graphic design degree in 2017 after spending two weeks with us in residence as a design intern, and we've worked together ever since! She currently designs remotely from Nebraska, where she lives with her husband and their pets, including a very large pig named Felix. We try to get her back to Texas a few times throughout the year to work together and collaborate on projects in person.
the Story of green apple lane
a note from laura:
Many people love our name and ask about it’s origin. Green Apple Lane is a real street in East Arlington where my grandparents lived when I was little girl. Their house is where I climbed trees, picked vegetables in the backyard garden, helped bake Christmas cookies, and counted stars from a huge nearby field to the echo of cicadas. There, I played softball with my cousins, swung on the screechy wire fence that was draped waist-high along the edge of their yard, and in their living room, I played the angel every year in a live nativity scene, with a gold garland halo and white satin wings. There in my Papaw’s garage, I swept up sawdust, played with tools, hammering and c-clamping lumber of all shapes and sizes, and “painted” the floor using a crappy paintbrush and a metal Sanka coffee can halfway full of water.
My Nanny and Papaw were a sweet couple who fell in love writing letters back and forth during World War II. Each day after breakfast and cup after cup of coffee, they would read scripture together at the kitchen table. Most days you could find them stealing an afternoon nap in their recliners, separated only by a small side table with various remotes and a TV guide. Papaw could build anything you dreamed up, and when I begged my dad for a specific dollhouse, he passed the specs to Papaw for “research and development,” and then Pap built it ten times better than the store-bought version.
Nanny and Papaw never pressured us grandkids to become one thing or another, or to do things a certain way. They never chided us to call or come by more often or to quiet down. Even now, I can’t remember one raised voice in their house, ever. Nanny was always happy to see or hear from me, whether it had been 5 hours or 5 months, and I sincerely believe the only thing she ever wanted for us kiddos was for us to be happy. They have been gone for years now, but I have no shortage of amazing memories from Nanny and Papaw’s house on Green Apple Lane, where creativity abounded, and ingenuity flowed as freely as the never-ending coffee.