Color is central to my work with flowers, guiding both my interactions with customers and my orders with vendors. Sometimes I wish I could mix colors together to engineer the perfect shade I’m looking for, but there’s something even more special when you stumble upon it unexpectedly.
I went on a painting retreat in early September to celebrate my 40th birthday—something inward, quiet, and creative, just for me. It felt like a gift of time, color, and calm.
The retreat was led by my painting teacher from the Rowayton Arts Center. Taking myself out of one medium and into another is always refreshing, especially during my busy season. I talk about that in my post “Always Learning.”
Our group stayed in a castle dating back to the 10th century. Its stone walls held the warmth of late-summer sun, gardens hummed with bees, and long tables invited us to linger over meals. Most days, we sketched or painted al fresco at the castle or in a nearby village—my pencils and acrylic paints tracing hills, cobblestone streets, and the lines and shapes that I saw in nature.
I played with colors like Alizarin Crimson, Ultramarine Blue, and Lemon Yellow, softening them with Titanium White to capture the warmth of stone walls and shifting shadows. I sketched on toned paper with white, red, brown, and black Conte pencils, getting lost in line and form. Hours would pass as I painted alongside other students—no deadlines, no clients, just the quiet sorting of subconscious thoughts through each stroke of color.
What surprised me most was how much the trip took me back to being twenty-one—the year I studied abroad in Spain. Wide-eyed and curious, tucked into a van with strangers, I explored villages and cathedrals, discovering the world and myself. Like most of us, I felt invincible then.
Twenty years later, I’m back in Europe, reflecting on the decades that have passed and the ones to come. Most of my fellow students on this trip were in their 60s and 70s, and I loved hearing their stories—their reasons for continuing to learn and travel. I wondered if, twenty years from now, I’ll return to Europe again as a student.
The time in France gave me space to reflect on the last year. The past twelve months were a whirlwind: buying my first home, expanding my business, opening my life to new relationships, and letting go of what no longer serves me. I stretched and grew in ways I didn’t anticipate, which caused me to neglect some of the daily rituals I had built over years.
Looking back, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude—for my health, for relationships that feel like home, for a career that lights me up. For turning forty, not with fear, but with joy and acceptance, and the sense of being exactly where I’m supposed to be. The years have brought wisdom and clarity. I feel more myself than ever.
Looking ahead, I dream of more art and creativity: hands in flowers, sketching in quiet corners, dirt under my nails, ideas flowing across tables. Morning sun catching petals on the sill, bouquets spilling over counters, connection felt over meals—these are the moments I crave. My brain keeps the plans organized, but my heart craves the color, the texture, the process. More light, more petals, more brushstrokes—the tangible joy of creating. This curiosity feeds both my personal life and my work, shaping how I approach flowers, design, and every client experience.
Coming home, I’ve carried that rhythm of color and stillness into my everyday life. For months this past year, I had been trying to force my healthy habits back, but it just wasn’t working. Now, with the busy season behind me and space to breathe, they’ve returned almost like muscle memory—sketching, reading, drinking lemon water and bone broth before coffee, walking, doing yoga, preparing for the next chapter of my life. Taking care of myself.
Marc and I just got a dry-erase board—blank, with red, black, green, and blue markers ready—and we’re excited to plan our next big project, heading to Florida in December to design the plants and flowers for the World Champions Cup, and possibly a little trip afterward. In this quiet, I feel fully present, fully grateful, fully myself.
This morning, I pulled out my photos from France and sketched from them, carrying the light, the colors, and the calm of those days into everything I do today.
Today, at forty, I feel the light within me more clearly—the glow of a colorful past that, though imperfect and tangled, has carried me here. I’m grateful for the beauty hidden even in the mess, for the way each season has shaped me. And I carry forward the words a friend shared with me today: a reminder not to forget the light that’s already mine—guiding me into all that’s still to come.
I loved reading this this so much! Your sketches look awesome. Also, happy birthday!!! :)