SimpleGiftsFarm.com – my oldest website – went online in 1996 to support my nursery business. When I shut down the nursery, it became a gardening information website.
But things change.
A few short years ago, Google Adsense helped fund this website. Google put the ads on the site and gave me 60% of the income those ads earned.
But Google’s ad business has fallen on hard times – the last day Adsense was on this site, it produced 57 clicks and made $0.16 (16 cents) for the day’s income.
And Then Came Facebook
As it turns out, Facebook knows everything about its users. When you share or read things, Facebook is watching and recording. It tracks you across the Net to record every website and click you make.
It knows all the important information about you and advertisers suck this up like bees at honey.
But Facebook doesn’t pay writers such as myself.
No matter how many gardeners “like” my author page, Facebook will only show an article to a few hundred (out of the over 5000 who’ve checked that like button).
It expects me to pay them for the pleasure of putting articles on their site and being read by gardeners.
I’ll be damned if I pay Facebook to post my articles on their website when I don’t make any money from those articles. This means the ads for ebooks or other services on this website simply don’t generate enough revenue to pay the basic hosting bills.
I don’t write for free – particularly to make money for a large corporation such as Facebook. I enjoy helping gardeners but I’m not interested in paying for the privilege of doing so.
I will treat Facebook as the advertising vehicle it is.
All articles are being moved to my Premium membership site at DougGreensGarden.com – a reader-supported website that’s still actively expanding to meet the needs of its members.
This website will cease to exist online next July.
It is no longer being updated and insects are no longer being identified.
It is with a great deal of sadness I announce that next July when the hosting for this site ends, Simple Gifts Farm will only exist in the memories of those who lived that dream.