The Start of a New Season: Moving to the Texas Hill Country

As winter fades and spring begins to take hold, settling into a new place has reminded me how powerful seasonal resets can be.

Moving to a new place is a lot like staring out over the open ocean on a warm summer night – full of possibility and quiet anticipation for what the turn of the tides might bring. The last few months have carried that same feeling. Leaving a place you love is bittersweet, but there’s something exhilarating about stepping into something new.

Our move to the Texas Hill Country has felt like the perfect storm of those emotions – in the best way. On the heels of winter’s transition into spring, it has been the breath of fresh air we didn’t quite realize we needed. Sometimes it takes a fresh start – the transition of the seasons or a welcomed detour – to bring clarity to a chapter of life you might not have known was waiting.

As we packed up our small home in the coastal south and traded it for a quiet neighborhood of rolling limestone hills, sprawling live oaks and deer wandering through creek beds, I can’t help but think about how important it is to embrace both change and challenge in the same breath. There is something beautiful about allowing yourself to grow and evolve – and learning to let go a little along the way.

As laid-back as I can be, I’ve always carried a bit of Type-A planner in me. Preparing for a season where the next step feels somewhat unplanned can be unsettling. But it keeps bringing me back to a verse in Psalms 119: “Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light on my path.”

We rarely get to see the full picture of where we’re going, but we’re given God’s direction, presence and strength for each step along the way. I’ve felt that deeply these last few weeks. Even when life is full of exciting transitions, feeling slightly unmoored is normal – and sometimes that’s exactly what we need to flourish.

Learning a New Landscape

I’ve never been someone who abides strictly by the official equinox dates. Maybe it’s because I grew up in North Florida where seasons only exist loosely on paper, or maybe it’s because I tend to experience the world more by my senses than by the calendar. For me, a change in season is something I can feel in my bones. And lately, it feels like spring has arrived.

As much as I love the fresh start of a new year, I’ve always felt spring marks the beginning of true change. Something about the warmer days and longer evenings invites a reset – of our home, our routines and our priorities.

Moving to Texas has felt like the perfect beginning to that reset.

In the mornings, the light moves slowly across the hills and filters through the oaks, while coos of mourning doves echo through the trees. The dogs pacing by the fence eager for the day ahead, and the air carries the unmissable feeling that winter is a thing of the past.

A Different Kind of Home

For the first time in my adult life, I have a real backyard – with a fence. It’s such a simple thing, but the ability to step outside and enjoy fresh air in your own space feels like a gift I won’t take for granted anytime soon.

We also have a fireplace, which the locals have warned me we’ll never need, though I fully intend to prove them wrong on the occasional chilly evening. And perhaps best of all, we have a small mudroom – which, in a house with three bird dogs, might be the greatest luxury of all.

It’s a funny thing when your dream home starts to revolve around your pursuits outside of the house, but that’s exactly where we’ve landed. A place where the dogs can run, herbs can grow in the garden, and a worn leather couch waits by the fire at the end of the day.

Slowing Down

Moving somewhere new also has a way of reminding you to simplify. Packing up everything you own makes you think differently about what you actually need. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about overconsumption and how easily life fills with things that don’t really add much value.

Spring feels like the perfect time to strip things back and return to a simpler rhythm.

In my tendency to plan and organize every detail, I sometimes forget that slow and intentional will always be better than rushed and thrown together. There are only so many hours in a day, and it’s okay if things take time – time to settle into a new place, time to meet new people, and time to feel at home.

A few weeks ago, Hayden and I spent our fifth anniversary building a cedar table together in our new house. And in its perfectly imperfect design, we added a little character and charm that piece will always carry. The smell of fresh cedar shavings filling the air, belly-laughs and rushing to add on the finishing touches just before dark – those are the moments that matter.

In that small project, we left a little piece of our story behind – something built slowly, with our hands. That’s the rhythm I want more this spring.

Instead of starting this season with rigid plans, I’ve been thinking more about small daily practices – simple rhythms that help a place begin to feel like home.

Whether you’ve recently moved somewhere new, are entering a different chapter of life or simply feel the pull of a seasonal reset, these are the rhythms I’m hoping to carry into the months ahead.

Spring Rhythms

Wake early enough to watch the sunrise and read

Visit the weekly farmers market

Eat simple, local foods and good meats

Start a small herb garden

Make sourdough bagels

Eat more meals outside

Reset my gear for the field

Run the dogs in the evenings

Move my body most days

Get out on the river to fish

Explore antique stores for well-made pieces

Spend time in prayer each day

Take a hike and a swim on a warm afternoon

Tie a few flies

End each day with a cup of tea, a good book, and dogs by the fire