Where I left off
I moved to Tucson. I didn’t leave Seattle.
I recently wrote about why moving to Tucson didn’t mean walking away from Seattle, The Madrona Group, or the life I built there. This is the other half of that story: what happened when Tucson stopped being somewhere I visited and started feeling like home.
Visiting a place and living there are two different things. On a visit, the weather and scenery take center stage. Living here means learning the ordinary rhythms too: when to go outside, what the mountains look like on a changing afternoon, and how much of your old life travels with you.
The landscape
The desert is more alive than I expected.
I came from a place where green means evergreens, moss, and water nearly everywhere you look. I had a much flatter picture of what a desert would be. Tucson has been quietly correcting it.
There are saguaros with personalities, bright flowers against gravel, birds at the feeder, and a whole second act when rain arrives. The landscape can look spare from a distance and then reveal a surprising amount of life when I slow down and pay attention.
It turns out that alive doesn’t have to look green in the Seattle sense.
The view
I didn’t expect to get attached to a new set of mountains so quickly.
Seattle has extraordinary mountains. I still miss that landscape. What surprised me is how present Tucson’s mountains feel in everyday life. They are part of the drive, the walk, the sunset, and the way I locate myself in the city.
I thought I would spend more time comparing this view with the Pacific Northwest. Instead, I find myself learning it on its own terms. Loving these mountains doesn’t mean I love the old ones any less.
Weather
Yes, it’s hot. That isn’t the interesting part.
I was right about Tucson being hot. I can take that prediction off the board. What I didn’t understand was how much more there is to the weather than one summer temperature.
Days develop their own schedule. You learn to appreciate early hours and evenings differently. Then the monsoon comes through and the familiar patio is suddenly full of rain. A rainbow appears where I expected another uninterrupted blue sky. I expected heat; I didn’t expect to become so interested in desert seasons.
Outside
Somehow, I’m outside more, not less.
This sounds backward given the heat. But moving here has made me more deliberate about getting outside. A hike is not an all-day plan in every season. Sometimes it is an early start. Sometimes it is a walk, a pool, a round of golf, or simply sitting outside when the light changes.
The access matters. The desert and trails feel close to ordinary life, not reserved for a vacation. I’m still figuring out the seasonal rhythm, but I know that I spend more time noticing the day than I expected to.
The neighbors
Nobody mentioned the javelinas—or the scorpions.
In Seattle, the neighborhood wildlife I was most likely to think about was a raccoon getting into something. Here, I’ve found myself checking the cul-de-sac for javelina families. There are coyotes and birds that keep showing up at the feeder, too.
Then there are the scorpions. Under a blacklight, the one in this photo glowed electric blue. It was equal parts fascinating and a reminder to pay attention.
That isn’t a complaint. This isn’t Seattle with different weather. The neighborhood has a different cast of characters, and I am still learning how to share space with them.
The pace
Tucson feels less interested in impressing me.
That is a personal impression, not a claim that one city or its people are better than another. To me, Tucson feels more casual and a little less polished around the edges. I like that. It makes room to explore without feeling as if every outing needs to become an event.
There is a lot I haven’t learned about the city yet. What I can say is that the social texture feels different from Seattle, and that difference has become part of what I enjoy about being here.
Both can be true
Loving Tucson didn’t make me stop missing Seattle.
Family, friends, coworkers, The Madrona Group, familiar neighborhoods, and years of history are still there. So are the water and the Northwest landscape that shaped me. Lake Tyee is still part of our life too.
Tucson becoming home did not require Seattle to stop being home. I think I needed to live here for a while before that stopped feeling like a contradiction.
Read: How Starlink let me work from our Lake Tyee cabin →
Work
Moving changed where I work before it changed what I do.
I still work with Seattle. I still care about real estate, marketing, technology, and the people in the businesses I’ve helped build. A change of address did not turn me into someone else.
But distance can make old routines easier to see. Tucson has given me room to ask a question I might have postponed in Seattle: what do I want the next twenty years of work to look like? I don’t have a neat answer. That question eventually became the reason I started organizing this site around BUILD, INVEST, and REINVENT.
I’m not trying to replace decades of experience. I’m trying to decide which parts of it deserve more of my time and what kind of life I want that work to support.
Still learning
Ask me again in a year.
I’m still new here. Longtime Tucson residents know things I haven’t figured out yet. Some things I love now may eventually test my patience; some things I barely understand may become favorites.
This is not my definitive guide to Tucson. It is a snapshot of what has surprised me so far. I am still learning what this place will mean to me.
The photographs in this story are ours, from Tucson and Lake Tyee. Sarah’s experience of the move is her own; I haven’t tried to speak for her here.
Seattle + Tucson
I’m starting to understand why I needed both.
Seattle shaped most of who I am. Tucson is giving me enough distance to decide what I want to carry forward. I don’t think this chapter is about replacing one place with another anymore. It’s about building a life with room for both.
