How things aren’t still and energy is always moving and changing…

And then there were more leaves, especially from the river birch tree, as if to say that it was their turn to play.

Things come into existence, stay for a while, then leave again. Leaf art is inherently ephemeral. Maybe that’s what’s so compelling about it. 

When there’s so much happening moment to moment.

When do we decide to shed what no longer benefits, or what is no longer true, to reveal something else of our self? And when do we decide to keep our spiky exterior too, because we really do still need that sometimes?

What we need often comes from within, spiraling upward from our depths to reach the place we need, season after season.

Repeating is deeply within us, a dynamic, cyclical, ever-present repeating.

Maybe making was a way in which I was reminded of that deep place of our shared connection.

Holding onto a memory and behold where it leads… the beauty of St. John, palm tree seed pods, mark making, and waves...

To remember to be authentic with what’s possible and already there within us…

The idea of coming together, the expression in assemblage bundles, and working in the opposite way...

What happens when differences get close to each other, and discover that something lively happens…

Maybe it’s to feel that winter can have a sense of belonging in my heart. Or I can have a sense of belonging in the heart of winter…

The potential is always there. Sometimes it’s content, sometimes it’s restless, but it’s always within us, waiting for us…

Nature is often trying to catch my attention. And so I listen and gently receive her gifts.

I feel these handmade brushes are not afraid of getting messy, and not afraid of their wild side in making marks…

First inspired by a friend’s gift, then carried forward as a gift to other friends… it’s as simple as feeling special.

Seed pods and pandemic pods - one is as old as forever, inherent to nature. The other is a new convention, challenging to human nature.

What happens when you share a photo of banana stalks to a friend, and it turns into an afternoon of expressive mark making together.

Sometimes we’re a little crooked and just need to be realigned. The story of a healing chime’s own healing.