20 years of blogging—and a new chapter begins

Digging turned 20 years old on Valentine’s Day. That’s two decades of showing up—daily or weekly—to blog about my garden. Like gardening, blogging is a practice of observation, stewardship, and creativity. Just as importantly, it’s a conversation with you, the reader.

I’m grateful for everyone who’s been here—especially those of you who’ve followed Digging for years. You’ve made my usually solitary gardening life feel richer. And I’m looking forward to continuing this blog for as long as I can, even with the technical challenges and costs that come with keeping it going.

(Read more in last year’s blogiversary post.)

A new chapter

Now, I’ve buried the lede. After 17 years in this home/garden and 32 years in Austin, I’m moving. My husband and I are relocating to Denver, Colorado—closer to our two grown children, and nearer the mountains our family has long loved visiting.

I realize this may be surprising (or even sad) for those who’ve followed my gardening journey in Texas. Uprooting from a place you love is hard. Leaving friends and family is emotionally wrenching. I will miss them. I will miss Austin. I will miss Texas.

What I’ll miss—and why

I’ll miss Tex-Mex, H‑E‑B, mild winters, and spring-fed swimming holes. I’ll miss the laid-back creative spirit of Austin, the friendliness of its people, and the owls we share the garden with. Most of all, I’ll miss the neighbors and community that have nurtured me for three decades.

What I’m looking forward to

Moving is also exciting. I’m eager to have my kids over for family dinners again. I’m ready to explore a new region, experience four seasons, settle into a new home, and start a new garden.

Denver’s climate will be a big adjustment—far more arid than Austin’s, and at a mile above sea level, with its own set of challenges to learn. Still, I look forward to the journey, and to reconnecting with Colorado gardeners I’ve already met and learning from new ones.

My garden, and letting go

As for my garden: I’m at peace with leaving it. My stewardship is ending—though I knew that day would come. The new owner will make it theirs in whatever way works best for them. That’s the privilege of ownership, and that’s how it should be.

After all, a garden is the gardener. It wouldn’t remain the same, even if it continued in its current form. For me, though, I’m carrying it forward—in my heart, my lived experience, my knowledge, and everything I’ve written. In that way, it will live on.

Join me next

I hope you’ll follow along as I start over with a new, smaller garden in a place that gets about 14 inches of precipitation per year (compared to Austin’s 34). I’ll also be working with a real winter—and (gulp) a hail season. There are challenges ahead, and I’m ready.