Sketching Process: Wild Blue Phlox
Great White Trillium with Mossy Rock
Oil Pastel on paper. Sketched in pencil. Wildflower, rock, and weeds as I remember them on a late April day or early May day. To be honest, this month has been so chaotic I can’t remember when I went to the creek to sketch.
This drawing was sketched with a live subject, on the trail beside the creek in real life with the real soundtrack of water, birds, and insects buzzing. It was the first time in many years that I had sketched in nature like that and it was wonderful.
Drawing in nature, not only cleared my mind but helped me immerse my mind in what I was doing. This process slowed everything down for me and reminded me to go back to basics in my artistic approach. To take the extra time to draw careful pencil lines to indicate details I wanted to preserve, like the levels of the rock. To have that impression committed to pencil and paper instead of relying on an image from a phone or drawing something from my imagination.
From muddy base to jagged peaks where the moss grows to the lines of the leaves on the Great Trillium plant. It helped me remember where the light was washing across the form and what was hidden by shadow. If you would like to see more of the wildflowers from that trail check out April Wildflowers.
What is your favorite thing to sketch outside? Do you like to draw small details or sweeping impressions of landscapes? Are you more of a still-life or landscape person? I’m a sucker for flowers. I love their infinite imagination and stunning wardrobe.
My Spring 2024 Soundtrack
The Dawn Chorus – Robin at 5 am
Super Lady – (G) IDLE’s performance at the MLB Seoul Game
K.K. Bubblegum
Car doors shutting and opening
Japanese spoken in conversation – Coupy Camper Channel
Lose My Breath – Stray Kids (feat. Charlie Puth)
Bamboo Knitting Needles & the pulling sound of yarn leaving a skein of yarn
Endless Phone Calls – Samsung S23
Endless Text Notifications – Hala Hala by Ateez
S-Class Whistle – by Felix
A tin lid opening – Rooibos tea tin
Suicide is Painless – M*A*S*H
Wife – (G)IDLE
The rushing current of Wolf Creek tripping over rocks and weeds
Buzzing of bees and other insects pollinating wildflowers
Old WW2 jeep noises – TFL Classics
Dogs barking endlessly
Tap – by Taeyong
The sound of nothing – noise-canceling headphones
The sound of paper being shuffled while I organize
Fabric being cut by pinking sheers
A gentle clicking noise – Grammy’s Rotary Cutter
Arriba and Jongho’s high note – Ateez at Coachella
Slow even rhythm of a properly tensioned sewing machine
Sigh of frustration at Google’s AI Results update
Dash – by NMIXX
Branches swaying in the breeze
That’s very noice! – Felix, Hyunjin, and Chan
Scratching sound of pastel against paper
K.K. Soul
Killin’ It – P1 Harmony
Clarkson’s Farm Season Three Theme
April Wildflowers
#52 – Eight
This week has been a whirlwind, and it’s only Wednesday. It’s funny how some days can feel like an eternity to come and some feel long in a way that you don’t want the moment to end. Some events feel like an impending, hurtling, thing that you are on a collision course with and some feel like a sweet treasure, a thing you wished for and hope that it comes true. Duality is such a wild and wonderful thing to experience. It makes me appreciate the differences and the journey.
The Eighth of April 2024
In North America, April 8, 2024, created quite a stir. Somehow I managed to avoid the details of the eclipse until mid-March when the realization crashed down upon me that we were in the path of totality – 99.2% in my hometown. North of us on the shore of Lake Erie they were set to experience 100%. I was flabbergasted. This was going to be my first eclipse with totality and I was pretty uncertain about the experience. It was such an extraordinary event, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The enormity of that took time to process in my mind and while I came to terms with it I was filled with anxiety at the unknown.
I know that I was incredibly privileged to be right in the path and I am grateful for the once-in-a-lifetime experience even though I was nervous about it. I want to be genuine on this blog and hiding the amount of anxiety this experience gave me would be dishonest, especially because I know there were other people out there who were nervous about it too. Once I learned about the eclipse, it was like a constant bombardment of information. There was a lot of hype around this thing. As the days drew closer, it felt as though it was all that anyone was talking about.
Because there was no escape I had a choice – let the anxiety and the fear take the lead or let this experience teach me something about life and myself. At first, the fear had absolute control and I felt stuck. But I didn’t want to live my life in fear, so just as Kevin McCallister faces his fear of the furnace and the burglars, to prove that he is not afraid anymore, I decided to face my fear.
Now this is where I had to do some internal work and make some distinctions for myself, living in fear is not the same as experiencing moments of being afraid or anxious. We can’t control what we feel all the time, but we can make plans and develop coping tools to help us in times of fear and anxiety. I had to give myself grace that I wasn’t going to be perfect at this and I might get scared or overwhelmed but that it is a feeling not a guiding force. It was important to me that I made a plan of ways to help myself through the feelings I was having to get more comfortable and distract myself if it became overwhelming because deep down I was ashamed of my fear of the unknown, but also I didn’t want to ruin this for my husband who was quite excited to experience this from our yard.
I searched for videos of former eclipses to understand what it was going to look like and how it might feel to experience it. I mainly wanted to understand how dark it would get and for how long, as well as how long this process was going to take from start to finish. My husband had a great idea which was to have exit strategies such as going into my workroom and closing the blackout curtains to be in a sensory bubble with the light on. The eclipse’s totality was estimated at 3 min and 45 seconds here so he suggested I find a favorite K-pop song to listen to through the totality to bring me joy in a moment of overload. It was great grounding by him.
Three days before I started setting a timer for the length of the totality and going about my daily tasks to help my brain remember that it wasn’t long at all and it would be over soon if I didn’t like it. The best thing I found was a resource guide for neurodivergent kids that overviewed the whole process from start to finish. I know that I am a Highly Sensitive Person, but now I wonder if I should find out if I am neurodivergent because what I was struggling with had crossed over with this guide. It was the first resource that truly helped me prepare and feel at ease. I also prayed for God to help me shift my focus from fear to appreciation for this amazing event I was going to see and to see His majesty in the moment instead of my fear.
On the day of the eclipse, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, it felt like the day I got married, something big and life-changing was on the horizon, not impending doom but something bigger than myself. A big moment for us all, like the morning of my college graduation, it was a big step into the unknown. This is where I could start to feel things falling into place. I realized my next-door neighbors who feel like family were going to be home for it and that felt so comforting.
When it began the neighbors who I clicked with all came outside and we experienced the eclipse start together. We then settled in and watched with the friends who feel like family and it was such an amazing bonding experience that I won’t forget. That being said, I did not make it through the event without having a panic attack which I know God helped me pull myself out of. At totality the light was so weird, the shadows disorienting, and the air too still and cold. It felt like a low-pressure system coming through and I felt overwhelmed by the oddness.
I’m glad I experienced it once, but I do not wish to see another one anytime soon. Once was enough, I’m sorry to say, it was too eerie for me. It was an incredible display of creation’s beauty but it was overstimulating and straight up uncomfortable for me to love it. I’m thrilled though for all the people who got to experience it and absolutely loved it. I want to be more like you!
Eight Years of Marriage
As the sun moved quickly, faster than the speed of sound through the eclipse path my world returned to normal my mind shifted from that place of anxiety to a restful contentment. April 8th was over, which meant April 9th was coming, my eighth wedding anniversary, and a whole day to spend with my husband. Another year in the books with my best friend! Another year passed, eight in total, a dream I hoped would happen when it got difficult and when life seemed stacked against us. We’re out of the honeymoon period, the newlywed haze, the seven-year itch, and all those weird qualifications our society puts on marriage. When it’s really about every day and choosing the other person each day. Committing to the team and playing for the good of the team.
We’ve had so many weird anniversaries where it felt like our world was barely holding on. We’ve had tough years where it felt like a fight to stay together because outside forces like family, finances, childhood trauma, grief, the pandemic, the recession, etc were stacked against us. It felt good to get up and have a normal day of spending time together with my best friend.
In the morning we ran errands and got Kyle a fishing license and me some trail shoes, we went to a used bookstore and grabbed some boba tea. We ate stir fry with noodles for lunch and sprayed for ants around the perimeter inside and out, later we went to the driving range, got Domino’s for dinner, soaked in the beauty of shooting stars and cherry blossoms on ACNH, and finally ended the evening with two of our favorite channels – Matt and Julia and Coupy Camper.
Normal, steady, friendship, connection, contentment, affection, I think this is what we all yearn for more than the flashy moments. Especially after a day of a once-in-a-lifetime event, being “boring” with my best friend in the normal sunshine in a place that feels familiar doing my favorite things, and preparing for more adventures, just felt right. It was the balance being restored in my world, something I am sure to hold dear for years to come.
#51 – Forsythia, Thumb Print Cookies and Rain
Driving home on a cloudy, rainy Sunday a wash of bright, sunshine-yellow that burst upon the landscape once I got within my hometown’s county. A golden, almost firey shrubbery that dotted the yards of homes near and far. But what is this? This long-forgotten friend that signals spring, the forsythia.
At first, I thought this was a local plant, potentially a Pennsylvanian cherry blossom? But actually, I learned that forsythia originates from Eastern Asia and Eastern Europe. I wonder what brought them here? Maybe the simple beauty or immigrant communities from Eastern Europe who came to Beaver County brought a sense of home? That would be cool.
Since I moved from home, I think my springs have been colored with different shades of spring. The crocus, the daffodil, and when May creeps in, the rhododendron (a tongue twister). I look at photos and videos with wanderlust of the Sakura and forget my local splendor, the forsythia.
I didn’t realize how much I missed those beautiful golden blossoms until I saw them again. It was a welcome call, a return to normalcy to a world of childhood that felt like a warm hug. As I mentioned before in Easter Traditions and Celebrating the Resurrection there isn’t a lot of familiarity in my holidays anymore, but this, it felt like a moment stuck in time.
This wasn’t the only familiar sight of the weekend. I went home and got to give my parents hugs, and my family dog snuggles, and ate a new little tradition – thumbprint cookies from My Sweet Lily. My mom and Scott (who I’m referring to when I say my parents) travel down to Pittsburgh’s Strip District each Easter season to get a ham at Wholey’s Market and make another stop. To a bakery that sells dairy-free confections of creme-filled pastries called lady locks and these cookies called thumbprints, rolled in sprinkles with a dollop of icing on top.
This variety with the frosting, is incredibly sweet, vibrantly colored, and sort of stomach ache-inducing but I love them and choose to indulge in their sweetness once a year. I’ve had these cookies with jam and with a chocolate ganache, which is splendidly rich. I was curious where these cookies originated from and they are an Americanized version of the Swedish hallongrotta cookie. The name hallongrottor translates to raspberry cave, as these cookies are traditionally served with raspberry jam filling the depression in the top of the cookie.
Today we have a familiar friend visiting our basement, rainwater. Oh rainwater, flowing into the basement and making the journey to the washing machine an adventure of tiny stream crossings. I’m trying to be patient and accept that this Spring is going to be a rainy one, just like the rainy winter we had and it will pass. The basement will dry out.
Meanwhile, the rain is kind of calming, gentle, and cozy on this April day. I can’t believe it’s April already and I’m so excited. I’ve been designing up a storm for summer and I can’t wait to share it with you. ❤
Easter Traditions and Celebrating the Resurrection
For a while now, during Easter Week, I feel a bit like Charlie Brown, and like unsatisfied Chuck, I’ve been doing some thinking. Why does it feel like however I’m celebrating Easter that year, it’s just not exactly enough or appropriate for the gravity of what Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Resurrection Sunday truly represent?
Tradition!
Some of this feeling is my fault as I have changed churches a lot and gone through big moves and stretches of not knowing where to attend for a complex of reasons. That being said, I remember as a kid the feeling of joy and exaltation that filled the house from Palm Sunday on when I lived my grandparents. There was the music, a 1995 Easter cantata that my Grandma would play while baking tea rings, a Swedish wreath shaped pastry, for us and the whole neighborhood. It was a tea ring factory filled with music that told the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry, his walk to the Cross, his death and Resurrection, as told from different perspectives of witnesses.
My grandparents, I see now as an adult, gave me an example of balance for this holiday, because it wasn’t somber and it wasn’t trivialized into a holiday about bunnies and chocolate with a splash of Jesus. There was genuine joy, faith, and love for others expressed. Grandma would usually play piano at church on one of the Sunday services and Papa would help serve communion as part of his duties as a church Elder. He and I would enjoy the Easter chocolate after service and my extended family and friends would come over after church for a meal. There was usually a small candy egg hunt for me and my cousins too.
Since then two things have changed in my experience of Easter – the absence of family for those traditions and the absence of faith in our Easter celebrations.
When my mom got remarried I experienced my first Easter holiday where believing Easter was about Jesus was weird. My new family were and are some of the nicest people I’ve met and yet, this day was so weird because I’m not exactly sure what we were celebrating? As they grew up in the church but had moved away from the faith into adulthood and raised my cousins without any context of Jesus, it was an odd day, full of love and great memories, but a bit hollow? It was eye opening in a good way of the bigger context of the world and how not everyone believes the exact same things as you but you can still get along. It was a point of maturity for sure and put this ache in my heart for the old holidays with my grandparents.
The weirdest of these experiences for sure has been the holiday with traditions but without family. Do traditions matter if there is no one to share them with? It’s a weird place to think through because you don’t want to lose your family traditions, but like, you can’t help feeling like its dead without the rest of the family to share with. And this is not because my family all died, no just my grandparents did, and my extended family on that side lives within a 10 mile drive of each other. They simply have no interest in getting along anymore and have just dropped our family connection because of silly disagreements and its sad. Being on the receiving end of it it honestly feels like crap. There have been holidays I have absolutely dreaded because of this and its taken time to start to be okay with the new normal of being an island.
Love Your Neighbor as Yourself
Something that has helped me move forward to a new normal has been to focus on what the holiday is actually about – Jesus’s death and resurrection so that we can have salvation from our sins and become a new creation in Him. In doing this I found myself ironically back at the same problem, no matter how I celebrate this day it doesn’t feel like enough. Until yesterday while I was doing dishes and was daydreaming, I thought about something I think is profound.
I think the reason this holiday in the United States feels a bit flat is because this day represents a moment in humanity that is a bit bigger than just a day of remembrance. It’s a day where I want to give thanks to God for sending his son to do this amazing work of redemption. It was the ultimate gift that I have received. It symbolizes a new start and also a day of freedom and independence from my sin. It is essentially four of our major holidays rolled into one – Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and the Juneteenth/4th of July. Because of this I’m not sure if I will ever feel truly satisfactory with how I celebrate this holiday. I don’t think its possible and that’s okay. And potentially how the Reformed Presbyterian church (as much as my Wesleyan mind grumbles giving Calvinism the nod here) is right and celebrating the resurrection every Sunday is the most satisfactory.
So I guess my point here from all my rambling is that I miss my family, I wish they would come back but if they don’t its okay because there are others who love me that may not share my beliefs and the ultimate point of this holiday is not ham, candy, or pastry, it’s the resurrection and what we do with this fresh start. Giving in love of our time and our resources to bless others with what we have to continue what Jesus started almost 2000 years ago. He is risen! He is risen, indeed.
A Cup of Wisdom Warms the Heart
“Whoever ignores instruction despises himself, but he who listens to reproof gains intelligence. The fear of the LORD is instruction in wisdom, and humility comes before honor.”
Proverbs 15:32-33 ESV
Doesn’t that sound like something Uncle Iroh would tell Prince Zuko in their quest to catch the Avatar? That’s what I thought of when I read it. A lot of my reading through Proverbs so far has similarly struck me. I will be reading a chapter, line after line of little tidbits of wisdom in the style of literature Solomon seemed to favor, that at times feels sing-songy like a bit of Shakespeare, and then “BAM!” I’m caught in my tracks by the profoundness of what the line of poetry just said. In those moments, I think of Uncle Iroh. I think anyone who is a fan of Avatar the Last Airbender, wishes they had an Uncle Iroh in their life because people like Uncle Iroh seem few and far between.
I think that’s why the loss of my grandparents feels like such a hole in my life, a vacuum of wisdom. I love my mom but it isn’t the same kind of relationship, there isn’t that well of wisdom that flows into our conversations because there is a different approach to life she follows. It’s a well-developed, rich, sort of wisdom that can only come with hard work and deep study of wisdom itself. They had that and they shared it willingly, sometimes to my chagrin as like young Zuko, I didn’t want to hear it.
And like Zuko of season two learns, the echo chamber of losing the voice of reason in your life is way more frustrating than hearing hard truths that mirror your own folly. It is irreplaceable. I miss their wisdom. I miss the surrounding of elders and wise people who seemed to be around me in childhood but seem harder to find with age. I think there is a passing of the torch so to speak whereby aging you are supposed to grow, change, and dwell with the wisdom of life to pass on to others and that transition can sometimes feel like you are treading water.
“If you look for the light you can often find it. If you look for the dark it is all you will ever see.”
Uncle Iroh
Growing older is odd. I never thought I would miss reproof and instruction but I do.
In the spirit of both the verses from Proverbs and the quote from Avatar the Last Airbender, the only way to fix this void is to look deeper and further to continue to seek out good influences in my life, and ways to be challenged to never settle who and where I am now, but to push further to find the well of wisdom and in turn be a well of wisdom to others.
Where do you go to find wisdom? Is it a person? A belief system? A text? Have you continued to seek after it, even crave it as you have gotten older? Have you been able to be an Uncle Iroh to someone in your life?
#49 – Deactivating Facebook
In 2011, my senior year of high school, one of my close friends opted to not come back to our school for his final year and instead chose to do cyber school which meant, because of how much time he already spent working and playing a little game called war of warcraft, I was going to lose contact with him. Now, at the time, I had known this friend since we were toddlers, through church and later on school, it seemed too important to let that friendship fade into nothingness just because of change of life. I knew there was one modern way to stay connected, a way I dreaded and had put off as long as possible – Facebook. And so in 2011, I bit the bullet and got one.
I instantly regretted my decision.
All of a sudden my feed was filled with information overload in the way only social media can with details that honestly make you feel a bit insecure, like realizing, I knew I was a bit of an outsider at school but oh my, a lot of parties and social events were happening that weren’t on my radar that were now showcased page after page. Suddenly, the peace and tranquility of my quiet introverted life, one connected to people outside classmates, was gone. Poof. I felt a comparison. I felt lacking. I felt lame. A person missing the plot that everyone else got. Who were these people I thought I knew?
Was I doing this all wrong? Should I have more friends? The friend count, the status symbol of ye olde Facebook, some of my fellow friends had 1000s of friends and I was struggling to think of 100 people I knew well enough to add. The profile picture, the clever status updates, the albums upon albums of photos of normal days and things. What was this weird and aspirational world? And where did my feeling of contentment go? In an instant, it left me like a hat on a windy day.
I look back on this feeling and wish I had rolled the dice on keeping in touch through email or text because that friendship didn’t last once we entered college and went our separate ways, but those feelings of insecurity and comparison, they took root. Not just me, but I think all of us are waking up to this and how social media is stealing our joy and our world from what it can be.
After all, we know now that Facebook is a terrible way to keep friendships going, except we didn’t know that yet. I mean I think everyone over the age of 60 at the time knew it was not a replacement for having a social life, but we like intrepid explorers too cocky to listen to the warning that the river was going to turn into a waterfall went tally-ho onward into the mist and went over the waterfall. And now with our broken bits of boat and sputtering of water in our lungs, we see our friends float by us in the river and yet just like the metaphor, we are unable to link arms because the current of the algorithm is taking us where it wants to. Unhappy and alone, we arrived in 2024 and it was time for me to climb ashore.
I was watching the first season of the Great British Bake Off with Mary Berry, Paul Hollywood, Sue Perkins, and Mel Giedroyc, circa 2010 and I felt this overwhelming yearning to go back, back to 2010. Like this scene in Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice where Elizabeth sees Mr. Darcy appear in the fading mist of dawn.
I thought about this, why did I feel such a strong pull toward this time? I don’t particularly love the fashion of this period nor was it the most exciting time of my life, it was high school for goodness sake with the season of SATs and college applications. But it was strung together with moments of deep authenticity, real connections, and life spent living in real life instead of online. I spent my days with real people, not a screen with someone behind the screen talking to me. It was real and my world, with my people. I wasn’t worrying about FOMO or what other people were doing, I didn’t consider what other people were doing if I wasn’t there or how I should be spending my time compared to what other people were doing. I was just living. It was before social media had its claws into me and the world.
I remember the world being less performative, less homogenous, and more authentic. If someone was cool it was usually because they were doing their own thing and owning it. If someone was pursuing a hobby or a career it was because they had a passion for it, not for social media clout or to be like everyone else. Phones were for texts and phone calls, sometimes photos. At social events, particularly family events and meals, they stayed in your pocket.
If you were using your phone you were actively talking to someone. People knew things and retained information because Google wasn’t at the ready. You had to discuss and determine things through research, using a book or a computer. Photos existed in physical albums, in frames, on fridges, and in wallets. Body dysmorphia existed, but was less of a constant because in person you can’t Photoshop and filter, you have to accept who you are enough to be in person. Trips were shared through home movies, photos, and stories around a table with food and drink.
At that moment, I realized I was done. Done with pretending I like this fake world of connection. I separated my Instagram from my Facebook so that I could continue sharing photos to my Instagram sewing portfolio account, because that is for exposure not connecting, and deactivated my Facebook. I kept Messenger so that three specific people could still reach me and I hit that deactivate button. And I have to say, it felt like a fake haze lifted from my world. That chapter was done and I feel a peace washing over me again.
If it was as easy as leaving one social media platform, what other little swaps could I do to find those things that made the world feel so real and connected before the social media age? That is my next quest. Onward into normal, human connections!
One Rabbit Riot 