A Little Story About Paint, Possibility, and Starting Again

I have never had more respect for artists than I do now.

I just spent the week at what I lovingly call Art Camp—more on that adventure soon—but I came home completely enchanted by the talent I witnessed. Some people can coax an entire world onto a piece of paper with a few brushstrokes and a puddle of paint. It feels a bit like magic.

What struck me most, though, was not the talent. It was the atmosphere.

In so many corners of life, there is comparison, competition, and the feeling that we must somehow outshine one another. Art seems to be different.

In art, everyone paints the same flower differently. One person loves bold colors, another delicate lines. Some sketch tiny details while others paint loose, dreamy landscapes. And somehow, every style is celebrated. No one is trying to be someone else. Everyone simply delights in seeing the world through another person's eyes.

It is a breath of fresh air.

I also love sharing the artists who inspire me—the teachers, sketchbook keepers, and creative souls who remind me that there are endless ways to make something beautiful. I'll share some of my favorites during my summer sketchbook challenge.

As for me, I used to paint.

For years, there was always a canvas and a box of acrylic paints somewhere in my house. Then life became wonderfully full and wonderfully complicated. Children needed me. Work needed me. Life happened.

And so, without quite noticing it, I stopped.

Then, in February of 2025, someone handed me an Emily Lex watercolor book and a little set of paints.

I thanked them and placed them on my desk.

And there they sat.

For weeks.

Then came one perfect Sunday afternoon. My husband suggested taking the boat out on Lake Travis. I adore boat days—the sunshine, the music, the sparkling water. On a whim, I grabbed the watercolor book and paints and tossed them into our snack bag.

I almost didn't bring them.

The evening unfolded like something from an Anne of Green Gables chapter. The lake glowed in shades of gold and peach. Music drifted softly in the background. The sun was preparing its grand exit.

I pulled out those paints. I scooped up some lake water in my cup.

And something quietly magical happened.

A door I didn't realize had closed swung open again.

I haven't stopped painting since.

Thank you, Emily Lex, for handing me the key.

Now I paint every day. I take online classes, watch YouTube tutorials, meet friends at coffee shops with sketchbooks in hand, and have recently begun plein air painting.

Oh, what a delightful thing it is.

I love every bit of it.

So if you've ever thought, Maybe I'd enjoy painting... or if you've ever wandered through an art store and lingered a little too long in the paint aisle... if you've ever considered picking up a brush...

Consider this your invitation.

Buy the paints.

Paint the flower.

Make the messy sketch.

Sit by the water.

Begin.

You never know what lovely little part of yourself might be waiting to be rediscovered.

And if you'd like some company, I'm hosting a Summer Sketchbook Challenge that begins this weekend. We'd love to have you join us.

After all, every great adventure begins with something quite small.

Sometimes, it's simply a paintbrush tossed into a snack bag. 🌿🎨✨