Painting Spring While Winter Lingers

Here in Wisconsin, we are just one week away from the official start of spring, and Mother Nature seems to be throwing one messy little tantrum.

Just when we start thinking spring might finally be on its way… the forecast says we're getting ten inches of snow this weekend.

Not the cozy December kind either — the late-winter kind that melts into muddy edges and gray patches and makes everyone collectively sigh.

So while the outdoors is still undecided, I've been doing what I often do this time of year…

I've been painting spring.

         

Flowers have been slowly blooming across my desk — tall stems reaching upward, little blossoms layered over deep greens, colors that feel like sunshine after months of gray. Sometimes the easiest way to welcome a new season is simply to start creating it.

While I've been painting, I've also started planning one of my favorite yearly traditions: my annual spring trip to the Amish nurseries.

If you've ever been to one, you know the challenge — trying not to come home with one of everything… because honestly, who can resist all that beauty?

Rows and rows of plants, every shade of green imaginable, flowers bursting with color after a long winter. It's the kind of place where it's very easy to lose track of both time and good judgment.

That's where my Garden Journal becomes my very helpful companion this time of year. It gives me a place to sketch out garden ideas, make planting plans, and keep track of what has worked well in past seasons.

    

If you'd like to take a peek, you can shop the Garden Journal here.

Along the way I've also been restyling some of my favorite floral cards and prints. One of those pieces is my Magnolia notecard set, inspired by the quiet beauty and stillness of southern gardens.

You can shop the Magnolia notecard set here.

And while working with all of these florals, I found myself painting a flower that has always held a special place in my heart.

The Gardenia.

Growing up in Louisiana, gardenias were everywhere. Their sweet fragrance would drift through warm southern evenings, and those soft white petals always seemed impossibly perfect and lush.

Even now, when I paint them, I can almost smell that familiar scent and remember those quiet moments in the garden.

This particular painting felt a little special when it was finished. Instead of immediately turning it into prints or cards, I slipped it into a frame and let it simply exist as the original piece.

Sometimes a painting just wants to stay exactly as it is.

And sometimes a painting becomes something meant to be shared.

That's one of the reasons I love turning my artwork into notecards. A flower that began as a quiet moment in the studio can eventually find its way into someone's mailbox — carrying a note of encouragement, gratitude, or love to someone who might need it.

In a small way, it's another way beauty travels.

So while winter lingers outside for just a little longer, spring is already beginning to bloom here in the studio — one flower at a time.

Take heart.
Spring is on its way.

And if you're like me, you might already be dreaming about what will bloom in your garden this year.