I’ve been eating asparagus, rhubarb and young walking onions from the garden. I’m also harvesting chives and pinches of my basil seedlings.

Yesterday as a gentle rain tickled the windows, I cleaned and organized my studio and thought about what I wanted to write to you.

When I was first starting to learn to make art I thought that if only I could discover the perfect art supplies, I’d be able to create the beautiful, perfect art I imagined in my head.

Written on my calendar today is “Blog: Garden”.

Here we are, two weeks into the new year. How are you feeling?

Have you chosen a word for your year? Are you setting intentions?

I vividly remember the first time I tied my shoe.

Last week I asked you to share your intentions for the rest of 2022 and to choose a word to guide you through the holiday season.

Last year I blogged about planning my dream studio. I was hoping to move my work space from one room in our house to another. For various reasons this never happened.

My blogging calendar has a different post scheduled for today, but I came down with a bad head cold this week and that other post didn’t get written.

I’ve been in a bit of a creative funk. I know it’s just a natural part of the ebb and flow of my creativity. It’s taken me years to be able to recognize this and let the funk happen.

Not much was happening in the garden in April, but now things are really starting to take off.

Before I dive in to talking about what a typical day looks like around here, I want to take a moment to thank you for sharing your experiences with online subscriptions and communities in last week’s post.

At the end of 2021 when I was starting to plan for 2022, one of my goals was to take an art sabbatical at some point during the year.

Wednesday morning I woke up and checked the temperature. Negative 19 degrees Fahrenheit with a wind chill of negative thirty-two. It was our second day in a row of bitter cold.

When I think about the word EASE, I imagine serenity and calm. I picture being able to do hard things with confidence. I see myself flowing through my days with lightness, finesse, grace.

Wednesday morning dawned with a blowy, snowy storm. Most mornings after breakfast and coffee I start my day with a walk.

One of the first things I noticed in the oncology waiting room were two huge Christmas cactuses filled with blooms, even though it was late January.

I cut handfuls of dead flowers from my garden this week. Their shapes are interesting. Petals twisted. Leaves furled as if frozen in motion.

“Thanksgiving is not just a day, it’s a lifestyle.”

It’s almost November, two more months left in 2021. At this time last year, many of us were ready for 2020 to be over. Ready to have a fresh start with a new year.