Everywhere I look right now I notice glimmers of magic.

My peach and cherry trees are filled with flowers. Daffodils are blooming and everywhere I look outside, spring is progressing.

Over the last almost 14 years I’ve blogged my way through growth and development as an artist and as a person.

In winter and early spring, it’s easy to forget how abundant and colorful my garden is during the growing season. I jog my memory by looking through photos and coming back to my blog posts.

Every morning I try to spend some time sitting on the floor in my studio with my coffee or tea.

Last month I wrote about my love of houseplants, how they inspire my art and help me get through our Wisconsin winters.

Putting together that post was so much fun and although I was already enjoying tending my plants, it sparked a renewed obsession

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been dreaming about projects and setting goals for this year. As I mentioned here on my blog and in my Joy Letter, I’ve been taking my time with this. And it feels good.

Every time I went into the kitchen this week, I visited spring.

My baby* Hoya lacunosa is blooming on a shelf above the sink.

All week I’ve been thinking about what I want to share in my first post of 2024.

This is my last post of 2023 and I’m ending the year with a celebration!

“Autumn is the season to find contentment at home by paying attention to what we already have.”

—unknown

In September I mentioned some of the projects I’d been working on after moving into my new studio. One was prepping for my show at Viva Gallery, which I wrote about last month. I’ve since finished the others and thought I’d share them with you today.

When I checked first thing this morning, the temperature was 31 (30 degrees lower than when I woke up yesterday).

On Main Street of my little town of Viroqua, Wisconsin there’s an art gallery run by a cooperative of 23 local artists.

I’m grateful for all these late-season flowers. Not just for me, but for my garden visitors, too. Bees. Butterflies. I still see hummingbirds every day, zooming from flower to flower.

Earlier this week I sat in my studio with a steaming mug of Dragonwell tea and watched my garden through my new sliding doors.

This photo probably gives it away:

Some projects live in my head for a very long time before I get around to bringing them into the world. Painting a series of “barn” quilts for my house and garden is one of those projects.

When I sat down to write today’s post, I felt completely unprepared. And for the first time in a really long time, I was tempted to skip blogging this week.

Over the last month I’ve been focused on moving my studio into its new space (maybe you saw a sneak peek in my most recent Joy Letter or in my June Garden Tour video).