When I first stepped into my studio this morning, frost glittered on the deck out the sliding doors, the light pale as the sun cleared the tops of the trees on the hill behind our house.

Hello, my friend. How are you?

I’ve had a slow start to my year. Intentionally so. At least at first.

I spent Monday in my garden. Mondays are technically the weekend for me and I was so glad my time off coincided with good weather.

When I woke up on Wednesday the temperature was 43. The warmest we’ve seen this year. On my morning walk I didn’t need a hat. Chickadees and cardinals sang their delight at the taste of spring in the air.

The next day it was more than 30 degrees colder.

Right now zinnias, dahlias, cosmos and marigolds color my garden and feed the bees, butterflies and hummingbirds.

Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be a full-time, self-employed artist? Although I frequently share what I’m working on here on my blog, I don’t think it gives a comprehensive picture of what it’s like to run an art business. Are you curious?

Sometimes the universe nudges you forward when you’re not quite ready. This happened a few weeks ago when I checked Spoonflower’s list of upcoming design challenges and saw one featuring embroidery.

My heart raced and I held my breath. I felt a flutter in my stomach as I sat down with a set of watercolors, some paper and a brush to paint for the first time.

What a week it’s been.

Although I think they’re a good idea any time, when life feels heavy or dark, I find it helps to write a Joy List.

Last Friday I mentioned I was working on a new online class.

It was my focus for most of July, never far from my thoughts even when I wasn’t working on it.

Hello, my friend. How are you? Are you hanging in there.

I had a rough week. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m healthy. My family is healthy. My business is doing fine. Matthias’ business is doing fine.

And yet…

Hello, my friend. How are you doing? Are you hanging in there? Are you riding the rollercoaster of ups and downs that it seems so many of us are feeling?

This is a difficult time and it’s ok if you’re struggling. Let’s all resolve to go a bit easy on ourselves. To allow our feelings. To do what we need to do in this moment.

Last month I wrote about taking a social media break. I looked back over my time on Instagram and also touched on the way blogging has changed over the years. I want to spend a bit more time considering blogs and blogging, giving the topic its own post (I’ve written about blogging before and will most likely write about it again).

Another year has drawn to a close. Another decade, too. On January 1, 2009 I wrote in my journal: “2010. Wow. Seems so futuristic.” And here we are in 2020, even more futuristic-sounding.

But I don’t want to jump into 2020 without spending some time considering 2019 first.

Dahlias! Oh, dahlias. They’re one of those swoon-inducing flowers you’re sure to see when scrolling around on Instagram or Pinterest. Other than sunflowers, they have the biggest flowers I know.

It’s been a while since I’ve shared a hodgepodge sort of post. Most of the time I only share inspiring links in my monthly Joy Letters*, but there’s no reason not to share some here once in a while, too (like Dana does with her Lovely Things posts).

I wrote that phrase in my journal this week to describe my garden, but I think it’s a good phrase to describe what I want life to be right now.

“Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.”

—Henry James

Ah, summer. Here in Wisconsin summer is well and truly here.

All week long I’ve been painting whirly birds.* That’s what I used to call maple seeds when I was young.

At this time of year when the seeds come helicoptering to the ground it’s hard not to feel a surge of childlike joy. I walk around with my eyes to the ground trying to find the most interesting ones.

This week I painted bleeding hearts with the paint I mixed last week.

It’s lovely to be working with flowers from the garden again. But it’s also been a bit frustrating trying to get back into a groove of art-making and gardening and all the other stuff that life demands.