Celebrating Our Harvest
Labor Day begins the final exhale of summer, and as the tourists begin to head home, Northern Michigan starts to feel like ours again. The evenings are cooler. The light is softer, more angled, almost honeyed. In the orchards, the apples are beginning to blush and will soon deepen in color. Everywhere I look, there are signs of a season moving toward harvest.
This year, I’m feeling that personally.
My birthday was this week and I opened the doors of my studio to celebrate. There was something especially meaningful about welcoming people into the space where so much of the quiet work happens—the experiments, the unfinished paintings, the ideas that go nowhere and the ones that suddenly become something more than I imagined. And wow, did I feel the love! Standing there with the most perfect mix of people–people I care about, surrounded by the work of my hands…celebrating together. I’m not particularly good at celebrating, but man, my people are!
This is the season of harvest—what becomes visible after months of faith. I find myself thinking about how much can change in a year.
So much of our growth happens where no one can see it. The apple trees have been working all year through the endurance of winter, blossoms in May, tiny fruit forming in June, summer sun and rain, and the long patience of ordinary days. What we see ripening now is simply the evidence of everything that came before.
Art happens that way, too.
There were creative seeds planted late last year and early this spring—questions I was following, experiments with color and movement, ideas I wasn’t even sure would become paintings. I kept working without knowing exactly where they were leading.
And the people. So many new people that I’m so deeply connected to through all of this work. Such kindness. You have somehow found your way to me and now we’re finding our way together. I’m so very grateful.
And suddenly, I can see the harvest.
My Seasons of Water exhibition is still hanging at The Delamar, but only four paintings remain available for sale. There is something wonderfully humbling about realizing that paintings that began privately—with me standing in front of a canvas trying to follow an instinct—have now found their way into other people’s lives and soon, into their homes.
And this Sunday, September 6, I’ll return to The Delamar to paint live from 10:00 a.m.–12:00 p.m. and again from 1:00–3:00 p.m. This time, instead of encountering only the finished work on the walls, visitors can see a little of what happens before the harvest: the choices, layers, uncertainty, movement and trust that eventually become a finished painting.
I would love for you to stop by, watch for a while, see Seasons of Water while it is still hanging, and say hello.
DELAMAR Traverse City
615 E Front St
Traverse City, MI
Maybe this is what I’m noticing most as another birthday arrives: harvest is about both accomplishment and acknowledgement. It’s pausing long enough to notice what has grown.
Some of our harvest is obvious. Some are still ripening. And some may only become recognizable when we look back from another season entirely.
What has begun to ripen in you? What can you see now that you could only trust was growing a few months ago?
As I begin another year of my own life, I’m especially grateful for all of you who have witnessed this work as it has grown and maybe decided to grow with me. May this turning season give us the grace to recognize our harvest, gratitude for everything that helped it grow, and faith for whatever is still ripening. May we have the wisdom to gather what’s ours when the time comes, and the peace of knowing that every season yields its own kind of fruit.
