I’ve lived in many places across the world, and I’ve seen what community looks like in a lot of different forms. That’s why I don’t say this lightly: There are very few places like Boerne, Texas.
I was born in England, lived in Germany and traveled throughout the Middle East and Europe as a child. As an adult, my life has taken me to Africa and throughout the United States.
I’ve been fortunate to experience extraordinary places and cultures, each shaped by its own rhythms and traditions. And yet, even with all of that perspective, Boerne stands apart.
Perhaps it’s because, even as it grows, it has held tightly to something rare. It still feels like a place where people care for people in visible, everyday ways. Where small-town values aren’t a slogan, but something lived out. Where people are proud of where they are and protective of what makes it special.
That spirit is reflected not just in the people, but in the places we share. Boerne is unique in that it is home to a nature center, a farmers’ market, and a teaching garden that are all open to the public, free of charge.
These spaces create a place to gather outdoors, to slow down, to learn and to connect. They quietly reinforce the idea that access to nature and community matters here.
That sense of shared space becomes especially meaningful in January. The land is quieter this time of year. The trees rest. The creek continues its path forward. In the stillness, there is room to reflect on where we’ve been and who helped get us here.
There’s a song by Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors titled, “Find Your People.” A few years ago, I leaned on that album while writing the eulogy for my aunt. She was someone who loved being outside, loved tending her garden and, above all, loved people.
We are shaped by the people who came before us and strengthened by the communities we choose.
As I settle into my second year at The Cibolo, that song has been finding its way back to me. In quiet moments, I feel grateful for the communities that carried me to this point.
And then there is the contrast: The laughter of children exploring outdoors; families hiking the trails together; conversations unfolding under open skies.
In those moments, I’m reminded not just of the past, but of the future. Because at The Cibolo, community lives in both places.
My entire career has been dedicated to children, particularly those who have been underserved. I’ve always believed in the power of access, education and meaningful experiences. But coming to The Cibolo has given me a deeper understanding of what community truly means.
At The Cibolo, community is built through shared purpose. It’s found in the volunteers who give their time and in the members who choose, year after year, to invest in protecting nature and sustaining a place that serves everyone.
January reminds us that even in stillness, growth is happening. Roots are strengthening. Places like The Cibolo exist because a community chooses to care.
This is not just a place to visit. It is a place shaped by shared responsibility.
The Cibolo is yours. It is here for every child discovering the outdoors for the first time, every family gathering under open skies and every neighbor seeking quiet or connection.
As the year begins, my hope is simple and heartfelt: step outside. Walk the trails. Sit by the creek. Bring someone with you.
Let this place remind you that community isn’t something we talk about. It’s something we care for together.
This is your Cibolo. And you are always welcome here.
Dianna Hopkins is Chief Advancement Officer for The Cibolo Center for Conservation.
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