For years, I've been creating content online in different formats—from social media posts to polished blog articles. But there's always been this uncomfortable middle space: the ideas that aren't quite ready for prime time, but deserve more than being lost in a Twitter scroll. When I discovered the concept of digital gardening, something clicked. This wasn't just another internet trend; it was a philosophy that aligned perfectly with how I naturally think and create.
Beyond Blogging: The Garden Metaphor
A digital garden isn't a chronological blog or a carefully curated portfolio. It's a living collection of thoughts, notes, and ideas that grow over time. Unlike traditional blogs where posts exist in isolation, chronologically stacked like bricks, a garden consists of networked thoughts—ideas that reference and build upon each other organically.
The garden metaphor works beautifully because real gardens aren't finished products. They require continuous tending, change with the seasons, and evolve as plants grow. Some areas flourish while others need pruning. The same happens with our ideas and knowledge.
Topography Over Timelines
What separates a digital garden from a traditional blog is its structure. Rather than organizing content by publication date, gardens are organized by context and connection. In my garden, you might enter through a note on design principles and wander through connected thoughts on color theory, then find yourself exploring a completely different area about productivity systems—all linked by genuine conceptual relationships.
This topographical landscape of ideas feels much more natural than forcing every thought into the artificial timeline of a blog. It's how my mind actually works, jumping between related concepts rather than thinking in strict chronological order.
Growing in Public
Perhaps the most liberating aspect of digital gardening is embracing imperfection. Traditional publishing encourages us to only share our most polished work. But gardens thrive on showing growth—from seedling ideas to fully developed thoughts.
I've started marking my notes with growth stages:
- 🌱 Seedlings: Early ideas I'm still exploring
- 🌿 Budding: More developed concepts with some research
- 🌳 Evergreen: Well-established thoughts I've refined over time
This system gives both me and my readers permission to engage with ideas at different stages of development. It removes the pressure to be perfectly correct immediately and embraces the process of learning in public.
Personal, Yet Connected
My digital garden isn't meant to be a performance or a product. It sits in that beautiful middle space between my private notes and my public work. It's intimate enough to include half-formed thoughts and personal reflections, but structured enough to be useful to others.
This middle space is what the internet originally promised us—not the carefully curated personal brands we've evolved into, but authentic spaces for learning, sharing, and connecting through ideas.
Building My Garden
Creating Lilyslab as my digital garden has been an ongoing experiment. I've designed it as a space where:
- Notes can evolve - Nothing is ever "done" or fixed in time
- Ideas can connect - Using bidirectional links to create a web of thoughts (like my article on [[escaping-the-rabbithole-problem|the Rabbithole Problem]])
- Context matters - Each piece exists within a broader knowledge ecosystem (see my thoughts on [[the-prioritization-problem|The Prioritization Problem]])
- Imperfection is valued - Notes show their growth stage and development (this connects to my [[building-a-digital-workshop|Digital Workshop]] philosophy)
- Exploration is encouraged - Multiple entry points rather than a singular path (though this can lead to [[taming-tab-chaos|Tab Chaos]])
The technical implementation matters less than the philosophy behind it. Whether built with Obsidian, NextJS, or any other tool, what makes a garden thrive is the commitment to tending it regularly and allowing it to grow naturally.
An Invitation to Wander
Unlike a blog you read chronologically or an app with a prescribed user journey, my digital garden invites you to wander. There's no right way to explore it. You might start with my notes on design, drift into my reading recommendations, or discover random thoughts on technology.
This is intentional. The joy of a garden is in the discovery, the unexpected connections, and the personal paths each visitor creates through the space.
I'm not building a content platform; I'm cultivating a living landscape of ideas. And I invite you to explore it—not as a passive reader, but as a fellow gardener with your own connections to make.