The wind had been blowing for days.
As I sat on the deck this week, watching the patterns of filtered sunlight and shadows play, I found myself thinking about stories where the wind signals change, like in one of my favorite movies, Chocolat. Sometimes a shift in the weather becomes a sign that life is about to move in a new direction.
Today is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and it feels like an appropriate marker for this season of work and life.
The studio has been full. I’ve been painting like mad—replenishing inventory for one of my favorite shows of the year, Marblehead Festival—learning the quirks of a new kiln, and filling a large order from a new customer. There has been travel, planning, packing, unpacking, and the steady rhythm of creating my intuitive hand-painted wares.
There has also been music.
A collection of new playlists has followed me through a road trip to Vermont and long days in the studio at home. Certain songs seem to become attached to particular moments in a season, and I imagine that I’ll hear them years from now and remember this summer fondly.
Outside the studio, summer is making itself known. Dinners on the deck linger a little longer. The light stretches late into the evening. Local strawberries are appearing at farm stands, and I’m already looking forward to making home made strawberry shortcake.
Perhaps that’s what the solstice offers: a reminder to pause for a moment in the middle of all the motion. To notice the wind, the music, the changing light, and the simple pleasures that arrive with the season.
The work continues, of course. There are still pieces to paint and kilns to load. But for one evening, I may simply sit outside and watch the wind move through the trees, grateful for this busy, beautiful season.
