I stumbled into my shoes, pulling on my hat and coat before rushing two wagging dogs out the door.

I was still wearing my nightshirt.

I wasn’t wearing any socks.

I hadn’t even put on my glasses.

Bright sunshine and warm breezes. Clear blue skies and crisp snow. Cold, dark, wet days. This month I’ve tried to be present for it all.

November has been a gift. A strange month, but a gift, too.

I’ve been giddily anticipating posting it and I’m so happy to finally be able to announce this month’s guest: Dana Barbieri.

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.

This year I’ve gone to more vet appointments than I can count. I guess I could count them, flip back through calendar pages and tally up appointments for tests and surgery and treatments and more tests.

This week has been beautiful. Bright sunshine. The bluest skies.

There’s no mistaking that autumn is here, but it’s my favorite kind of autumn. And my garden is still blooming.

About three and a half years ago I was frozen in indecision. Paralyzed by fear. Fear of making the wrong decision. Fear of making a mistake.

I am filled with a swirl of thoughts and feelings. Maybe you are, too.

These days. They’re hard. This year has been hard. It continues to be hard.

Last week I wrote about committing to self-care during the month of September. As I sat down to write to you today with the intention of expanding on the idea, it seemed so silly.

September is here. How did that happen?

During this month we often get our first killing frost, turning my garden to blackened mush and ending its season of painting inspiration. Is it any wonder that I mourn the coming of the fall?

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.

Won’t you join me in the garden today?

As slowly as 2020 seems to be progressing, the summer is certainly speeding past. I can’t quite get my head around the fact that it’s already late August.

Last week I pulled out all my spinach plants. They’d bolted (begun to flower and go to seed) a few weeks earlier. I’d been harvesting leaves from the stretching stems nearly every day, but it had gotten to the point where the plants had toppled over and were no longer producing new leaves.

This week is National Pollinator Week, its purpose to celebrate pollinators and bring awareness to how important it is to protect them. I spent a little time reading a bit more about pollinators (there are many more species of pollinators than just bees!) and paying attention to all the visitors in my garden these last few days.

These are my favorite days, dividing my time between my studio and my garden.

I’ve been unplugging as much as possible. And it feels good to be so focused. I’ve fallen in love, again, with my art. There’s so much to paint! Some flowers come and go in the blink of an eye.

I struggled all week with what to write to my Joy Letter subscribers, as I usually send my notes at the beginning of the month.

I’ve also been struggling with what to write to you, dear blog reader.

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…

One of the things I love most about making and sharing art is forging connections around the beauty and joys of flowers. Over and over again my customers have shared their personal stories of certain plants or flowers.

Back in December I chose “DO” as my word for the year. Lately I’ve been thinking about that choice. Wondering if it’s a bit ironic. Wondering how I feel about it now. Wondering if I should choose another word for the rest of the year.

Right now I don’t have the energy or the brain space to write the post I wanted to for today. So I’ll just check in with you. See how you’re doing. Tell you I’m doing fine. Send some words of encouragement your way.