This week surprised me by being... peaceful. Not dramatic, not wildly productive in the internet sense—just good.
The weather has been kind, and I’ve spent quiet afternoons on the back porch watching the field behind the house turn that impossible gold-green that only exists for a few weeks each year. Birds have been flitting through the wildflowers like they’re running errands, and my wind chime handled the soundtrack.
Inside, things were dustier. I finally gave the studio a proper clean—not with a vacuum, but with a trusty old dust rag I once used to dry dishes... in the late 1980s. Remember when ducks and geese in the kitchen were a thing? Yeah, somehow, I still had it. It was so threadbare and smudged with time that I had to say goodbye after many long years of dishes and dirt. Oh, and this last dust layer it tackled may have been semi-sentient. I’m pretty sure I heard it mumbling.
But once the grumbling dust was evicted, the space felt ready again. And I’ve had good things to work on:
– The third issue of my online zine is out! I’m enjoying the rhythm of it—the little cycle of sketch, scan, share.
– The sticker art is shaping up, and the kind words I’ve gotten so far have honestly made my day.
– I did some oil pastel tests on sanded paper, and to my surprise, they worked beautifully. I’m excited to start a portrait of my son this weekend.
It’s not that everything’s perfect. I’ve had other topics in mind—heavier things I want to write about eventually—but right now, I want to honor the quiet kind of joy. The kind that lives in sunlight, well-behaved pastels, and a rag that really should have retired before the internet existed.
Sometimes, that’s enough.
