Some things take a long time to become what they were always meant to be.
My husband and I have known each other since we were 12. We went to prom together at 17, as friends, and then life did what life does. Thirty-three years later, we found our way back to each other.
When we got married, our dear friend donated every flower. Every single tulip. So when our first anniversary came and she arrived at the studio with the most beautiful yellow tulips, it wasn't just a kind gesture. It was a thread connecting back to the very beginning. She remembered. Of course she did.
A week before, I had bought my husband tulips for Valentine's Day, because tulips are my favorite and shouldn't you always buy flowers you love for other people? 😉 We celebrated our anniversary at the hot springs, quiet and warm and grateful, and had lunch at Sorrelle's. A lovely day.
That week in the studio, looking at those yellow tulips against my sea salt walls, I knew exactly what I needed to make next.
I worked with them two ways. The ones I'd bought, I pressed before they could fade. The anniversary tulips I wanted to use at just the right moment. Right as they were starting to wilt, I moved quickly. Coated the paper, got everything out into the sun. Creating something new before they fell apart.
There's something about working against the clock with fresh flowers that focuses you. You stop overthinking. You just work. What came back out of the water was exactly what I hoped. That deep Prussian blue, the tulips permanent now in a way the real flowers never could be.
From there the collection began to find itself. Watercolor, gold linework, texture. Each piece taking its own shape. And there's more coming when life slows down enough to give it the space it deserves.