A garden asks for the same qualities as creative work: patience, attention, and care.
Even with a late start this season, I decided to plant seeds in the container gardens. There is something grounding about placing small, unseen potential into soil and trusting the process. Not everything will thrive, but the act itself feels hopeful.
I have always loved bringing freshly cut flowers indoors — arranging them in simple vases, placing them on the table, or sharing small bouquets with friends and neighbours. The movement between garden and home feels natural. What grows outside eventually finds its way into the rooms where I live and work.
This year I’ve chosen flowers in soft apricot, deep purple, and bright seasonal tones — varieties that attract pollinators and companion the vegetable beds. The presence of bees and beneficial insects adds life beyond the blooms themselves. It reminds me that creativity rarely exists in isolation; it thrives within systems.
Colour in the garden often finds its way into my fibre work. The muted blue of an aster, the quiet haze of alyssum, the bright structure of a zinnia — these tones linger in memory long after the petals fall.
Gardening is slower than weaving, yet the rhythm feels familiar. Plant. Tend. Wait. Observe. Adjust. Repeat.
There is calm in that cycle.
As the season unfolds, I look forward to bringing cut stems indoors — small gestures of colour and life that bridge the garden and the studio.
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