A few short years ago I didn’t think of myself as a garden writer. I was a garden blogger, plain and simple. But then I started getting offered, and learned to pursue, paid writing assignments, and now I have a book coming out, a fact that still amazes me. And yet I still most strongly self-identify as a blogger—a realization brought home to me last week at my first Garden Writers Association (GWA) conference, where I was asked again and again by fellow attendees what it is I do. Invariably, I gave a meandering version of this reply: “Well, I write a garden blog called Digging. And I’ve written for print here and there. I’m a garden designer. I publish photos from time to time too. Oh! And I’m about to have my first book published.” Um, yeah. I need to work on my elevator introduction.

I feel a fierce loyalty to my blog. Maybe it’s because everything that I’m privileged to do now, and get paid for—writing, design, photography—has sprung from this well. Or maybe it’s because Digging is my home place, where I can kick off my shoes and be as comfortable as I want, without the demands of editor or client, as much as I enjoy those creative challenges.

Nevertheless, I decided to explore the larger garden-writing world this year by attending the annual GWA symposium, which was held at a beautiful resort hotel in Tucson, Arizona. I experienced several firsts: networking with hundreds of garden writers, editors, publishers, publicists, and vendors; listening and learning in talks about everything from making videos to becoming a better speaker to successfully pitching a story idea to the love of place felt by a skinny, singing, storytelling desert rat named Petey Mesquitey; and visiting the Sonoran Desert for the first time.

Did you know it takes 75 years before a saguaro cactus starts to grow an “arm”? These big guys are old-timers, and they are so easy to anthropomorphize. This is the view from my hotel room. You may be wondering about all that green grass. My room overlooked the golf course.

The rosy Catalina Mountains greeted me every morning at breakfast and every cool, desert evening on the hotel terrace.

The hotel, the Westin La Paloma, was lovely, but I didn’t find much time to lounge around the pool.

Instead we were constantly on the go, meeting people, attending presentations, and visiting gardens. Here’s my traveling companion and good friend Diana Kirby at the Tucson Botanical Garden, camera at the ready, trying to stay warm in the chill of morning. (I loved those cool mornings.)

Oh, don’t worry, we had plenty of fun too. Here’s Diana working her magic with the aid of a crystal ball. You have to use your imagination.

Garden Designers Roundtable members Andrew Keys, Laura Schaub, David Cristiani, Rebecca Sweet, Jenny Peterson, Susan Morrison, and me

Like most things, GWA is really all about the people you meet. I tried to meet as many new people as I could but know there were many I missed. I was thrilled, however, to finally meet Tucson author and designer Scott Calhoun, whose books I’ve long enjoyed, and Facebook friends and GDRT colleagues Susan Morrison, Rebecca Sweet, Andrew Keys, and Laura Schaub. Once I realized how many Garden Designers Roundtable members were at the conference, I knew we needed a group photo. After garden tours one afternoon, I herded our group together for a quick photo op. A passing GWA attendee graciously took our picture, getting a great shot in just one take. Whoever you are, thanks! And thanks also to the organizers of the Tucson symposium. I learned a lot and am still awed by the majesty and forbidding beauty of the desert.

More posts about garden tours at GWA Tucson coming soon, starting with the art-filled garden of Alan Richards.

All material © 2006-2012 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.

When I started blogging in February 2006, I had no idea I’d still be so passionate about it 6 years, or even a couple of years, later. But blogging has introduced me to so many friends (online and offline), helped me build my garden design business, spurred the establishment of the annual Garden Bloggers Fling (hosted this year in Asheville, North Carolina), and even helped me land a book deal (see my Facebook page, Lawn Alternatives, for more info)!

Blogging can be whatever you want it to be: a personal record of your garden, a way to converse with other plant geeks, a vehicle to engage your customers, a place for you to rhapsodize about your favorite plants or dish the dirt on the gardening world. With the rise of Twitter and Facebook and Pinterest, I don’t know what the future holds for blogs. Will they one day seem outdated and struggle for readership like so many gardening magazines and newspaper columns? I sure hope not. There’s still nothing like a blog for sharing real-life information, inspiring photos, and the gardener’s hard-won wisdom and giddy delight, and the back-and-forth conversations that blogging allows through reader comments are still valuable.

So thank you, dear reader, for your continuing interest! And thanks to the many other garden bloggers and commenters for keeping the conversation going and continuing to inspire me!

All material © 2006-2012 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.

Construction at the site of the former World Trade Center, July 2008

Les at A Tidewater Gardener asks where we were 10 years ago on 9/11. I remember clearly. I had gotten my son off to kindergarten and was back at home with my 18-month-old. In a couple of hours I needed to go pick up my mother at the airport; she was flying in from Tulsa for a visit. The phone rang, and my mother-in-law asked, “Have you heard? You’d better turn on the TV.”

Both towers were smoking. A confusion of commentary from reporters. A correspondent in D.C. came on and said, “There’s a fire at the Pentagon.” Back to New York: a replay of the 2nd plane hitting the tower. My daughter, playing on the floor at my feet, looked up at the TV and said, “Airplane went boom.”

I thought of my son and called the school office, but they convinced me not to come. I phoned my husband at work and then my father, halfway across the country. I tried to call my mother, flying somewhere over Texas, but could only reach her voice mail.

I rang up a friend, who was planning her preschooler’s birthday party for that afternoon. She didn’t have a TV, so I told her what was happening, and mid-sentence, my eyes glued to the screen, I saw the 2nd tower shiver strangely and begin to pancake on itself. “Oh my god,” was all I could say. I was conscious of ruining her son’s birthday.

My mother called to say that she had reached Dallas but her flight to Austin was canceled. She didn’t know why. “Get to a car rental desk as fast as you can,” I urged. But the rentals were all gone. We called my father-in-law, who lived in Dallas, to ask if he could pick her up. He not only picked her up but drove her down to Austin.

The next day Mom and I sat in the back yard watching my daughter play. The sky was silent and still, which was strange. We ate lunch at Shady Grove, feeling somehow disloyal for thinking of eating out. The staff was subdued. I felt that everything had changed but also that I had a clarity of understanding about the world now.

Ten years later I can still recall that vibrating sense of clarity, though the feeling has faded. My children have never known a pre-9/11 world. They don’t have the memory of “where I was when 9/11 happened.” I hope they never know a moment like it.

All material © 2006-2011 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.