January 18, 2026
After a quarter-century (!) we recently sold our home in Tulsa.
In 2000, we had just returned to Tulsa from West Seattle, bringing a mess of plants and bulbs. Some things survived (rosemary, oriental “stargazer” lilies) and some things didn’t (chocolate cosmos). Other things we bought over the years (a 20-year-old Meyer Lemon) did better every year, going outside earlier every February and staying out later in November.
Like the great Aldo Leopold* did with his book Sand County Almanac, I would regularly note how the growing seasons and conditions would change year over year. For example, the lily bulbs that would bloom in August in Seattle bloomed in Tulsa around July 14th, and each year after, they would bloom earlier and earlier. The area weather would get hotter earlier, which, for a while, meant we’d swing back to a slightly cooler August (in relative terms). But the last couple of years haven’t stayed that way.
On Christmas Day 2025, our temperature was 86 degrees Fahrenheit.
While 25 years of data is not a sufficient sample size, it is enough that our USDA hardiness zone has shifted from 7a (0 to 5 degrees) to 7b (5 to 10 degrees).
Now we’re in Troy, Michigan in the heart of the Great Lakes region. We’re excited to experience a growing profile that more closely resembles our time in the Pacific Northwest. Not to mention all four seasons. The revitalization of the Detroit area is invigorating and reminds us of all the things that made Seattle of the 1990s cool and fascinating.
We’re just over an hour away from our daughter. Rest assured that we got her blessing before the decision, and she’s thrilled that we’ll be closer.
Already, we’re enjoying a longer-lasting snow than I saw during a 2025 winter in Madison, Wisconsin. The folks in Wisconsin were noticeably upset. Ice skating: Yes. Cross-country skiing: No chance.
When we returned to Tulsa, we came back to help with Karen’s parents’ care. We assumed we’d only stay for around 5 years. In the meantime, we had our incredible daughter, and next thing you know, we’re on the treadmill of Little Gym, nursery school, and the private school less than a block from our house. Our focus became that of every parent: providing every resource to help our child grow into a thoughtful human being, ready to help steward the world through its challenges.
The old expression “bloom where you’re planted” might come to mind here.
After all this time, why leave?
After making significant moves before, we’ve always felt that we had unfinished business with the wider world. Tulsa was intended as a stopover, and instead it became the backdrop for raising a child, building a career, and watching the climate shift one bloom date at a time. It was a good life—better than we expected—but it wasn’t the whole story.
Somewhere underneath the routines and the familiar streets, the old pull toward exploration never really faded. It just softened while we focused on the work of parenting and community. Once our daughter was grown and left Oklahoma for school, that quiet pull became easier to hear again.
So we chose to listen. We chose movement over inertia, curiosity over comfort. Michigan isn’t the end of anything; it’s simply the next place where we get to pay attention, learn something new, and see what grows.
* An eternal Thanks to one of my college roomies, Biologist Andy Comer, for loaning me his copy of “Sand County Almanac” and exposing me to the beautiful poetic writing of University of Wisconsin professor Aldo Leopold. It made me aware of the beauty of the upper Midwest, and perhaps planted a tiny seed years ago.
