January

Deeee—lighted...

Hello,

2024 has got a lot of weight to carry, especially so in the month of January. So let’s go easy on poor January (and ourselves.) The very idea that deep dark winter is a good time to publicly state ambitious goals is madness! I can barely make myself get out of bed in the morning, let alone actually accomplish something meaningful. But what I can do, and vow to faithfully do more of in the coming year, is pay attention to things that delight me. I just read a guest opinion article in The New York Times by Catherine Price along these lines so apparently it’s a thing. I don’t need to be original in my quest to find daily delight.

Delight is personal. What rings my delight-o’meter will probably be very different from what lights you up. The point is not the “thing”, the point is to tune your awareness to find delight on good days and on those inevitable not-so-good days, maybe especially on the not-so-good days. It can be a dismal day but if there’s a crescent moon I’ll make sure to point it out to everyone in my family. I love a good “smiley face” moon, something I started watching for when my son was a baby! It’s simple, it’s free, and it happens twice a month - every month, even January. Ross Gay’s books, “The Book of Delights: Essays” 2019, followed up by “The Book of (More) Delights” in 2023 are field guides to discovering delight even when things get hard, unjust, sad, terrifying, or just plain wrong. The power of noticing delightfulness is that you’ll find it right alongside all the awful stuff that the world serves up on a regular basis.

I’m tracking delights on my phone, random post-its, in a document on my desktop, and pinned to various cork boards throughout the house, although in truth I’m divided on whether it’s necessary to do more than simply notice. Ideally, whether you make a list or not you’ll share your delights with others, in fact in Price’s article she (delightfully) suggests putting your finger in the air and saying “Delight!” out loud. Let’s share delights in comments. I’m so glad you’re here.

xo Lorene

P.S. when the littles were even littler and just beginning to learn words I taught them to say “deeeee—lighted!

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In the store

All 2024 Calendars are now just $15, that’s 50 percent off! A calendar and a keepsake postcard collection in one, the 12 pages (+ cover) are loose, unbound 5- by 7-inch sheets on durable paper.

Cultivate a Colorful Life

Recently, to inspire a year of color, I put together a collection of 10 Creativebug classes called Cultivate a Colorful Life. This collection contains more than 20 hours of color-centric classes filled with inspiration, observation, and encouragement taught by working artists and designers, including my daily practice series, Color In and Out of the Garden.

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Recent reading: Lots of seed catalogs like this one from Select Seeds, they’ve got some dreamy ruffled nasturtiums in unusual colors.

Recent watching: I know I mentioned this film a few weeks ago, but it was the holidays and you might not have the time to watch Gardening in a War Zone, an exquisitely beautiful short documentary about Alla Olkhovska, a gardener in Karkiv, Ukraine who supports her extended family but growing, collecting and selling seeds from her garden. I encourage you to watch this very special film and share it with others.

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My colors

December 27, 2023

Sometimes on this dark side of the calendar I run out of ideas about what to paint — and what to say for that matter. This morning, not wanting to go outdoors into the damp, I spotted a jar of mulling spices —green cardamom pods, pink peppercorns, allspice and cloves — that my sister in law brought by in those early days after back surgery.

I found inspiration right there on the kitchen counter. Warm and cozy, merry and bright.

December 28, 2023

Like so many, I’m feeling a bit hollowed out by 2023. I fear I’ll run out of words and fumble at color. Because I definitely have wordless color-free days. We all do.

The lace of this skeletonized poppy pod helps me see that even empty can be beautiful.

December 29, 2023

You can have your resolutions and good intentions for the New Year. I’ll be over here with my paints and garden fragments.

Silver green, like the foliage of Artemisia ‘Powis Castle’, burnishes any season but especially in the dark of winter. The plant is fabulous in the front garden but the greens are an illusive match to mix with my watercolors. However, I keep trying.

December 30, 2023

Alarming! Yesterday it was 62 F in Seattle and the buds on the ceanothus in the back garden are showing color. To be clear, it’s the tail end of December, the first week of Winter.

December 31, 2023

Oh 2023, you’ve dealt great highs, challenging lows and countless days when it was all I could do to just keep showing up. I honor you, I value having come through it all, but GO! SCAT! Let’s move on and put all this behind us and talk about something good to eat.

January 1, 2024

An olive branch is a traditional symbol of peace. I can think of no better hope for the New Year than for peace to come to our world, our creatures and climate, and ourselves. I probably have the sequence wrong—but it works both ways. Happy New Year.

January 2, 2024

I picked these stems of spent Japanese anemones while I was gathering bits and pieces from the back garden for a bouquet for our Christmas breakfast table. Somehow, even tho I’ve been growing this plant forever, I had never noticed these wiry winter bobbles.

Olive green and charcoal, they fascinate me. So I stuck them in a cup of brushes on my art desk to remind me that every day in the garden holds new discoveries — even when you’ve been at it for a lifetime.