It’s that time of year.
When the wind shifts, and the skies clear, and the air warms, and the birds sing and… the cedar trees reduce us all to coughing, aching, eye-watering, sniveling wretches.
Out come the steaming bowls of thyme.
And again, I daydream about the granny I’ll become one day. The sort with an ever-green garden of magical healing things.
And… well, that’s all I’ve managed to grow thus far.
But that’s cool. I’ve got some time until I’m a granny. I’ve got some time to figure out how to grow all the things that nourish and heal.
For now, thyme, lavender, honeysuckle and… Nyquil.
An original drawing by Stefani Austin, available as a print here.
There is a little drawing on my wall, and a dusty container of lye in my garage, and both are telling me it’s been far too long since we’ve made soap.
Spring is coming, friends.
It’s time for the hippy in me to make a flower crown and get her soap on, yo.
It’s time for some calendula and honey, some basil and lemon, some goggles and rubber gloves.
Oh yes it is.
“Apothecary” – an original illustration, available as a print in my Etsy shop
There’s just something about fresh flowers in the house, isn’t there?
Every now and again, I tell myself that I should do that more – pick a few along my walk, buy a bunch at the grocery store.
Because really, what day isn’t made better with flowers?
I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not real thrilled about the end of winter.
I love winter I do, with all it’s cozy, sitting by the fire, baking, layers of blankets gloriousness.
And yes, I do love spring too. Open windows, bare feet, pie and fiddle music.
It’s just that here, spring lasts about two days before it’s hotter than seven kinds of hell for way too dang long.
Here it comes.
I think I’ll buy some flowers today. I think I’ll draw some flowers today. I think I’ll make spring last just as long as I can.
Because really, what season isn’t made better by flowers?
(This piece, Kitchen Window, is available as a print in my shop here)
I live in the suburbs.
That used to really bother me. I longed for land, an orchard, a barn, woods in which to ramble, soil in which to plant.
It’s not my season for that. My boys ride bikes to their friends’ houses, to the movies, to get an ice cream. Their music lessons are nearby. Their classes and scout group and church functions aren’t far. Their lives are full, rich. Their lives are here, in the middle of it all. The suburbs aren’t all bad.
And me? I have my little cottage studio. I have a front row seat to boyhood. I’ve got coffee shops and books store and the nearness of my own friends.
Still, sometimes my heart longs for a little yellow house surrounded by fields of flowers.
One day, maybe.
*to see more of this little house and order a print, visit my Etsy shop here.