Look closely. Can you see those last few leaves just clinging to the ends of branches? If you could look at that tree again tomorrow, they’d be gone. Last glimpse.

That’s what we love about nature. The cycles. Those leaves go. It’s quiet. New leaves come again. No question. We rest on the sweetness of that knowing. We love each part of the evolution.

And so I’d love to mirror that in my art process. Let the last leaves fall away. Allow the barren time, and trust in that prospect of gorgeous new growth. Easy. Flow. It’s natural.

What happens to me, so often, is that fall quickly slides by and then…I’d just as soon skip winter. Who wants the lack of color? Nothing to show? Who wants to honor what can’t be seen?

I just realized that I did this on the piece I started – straight out for DC. I didn’t come up with the idea and then let it incubate/gestate/ spend some time in the quiet before going into it full on. I know myself well enough to recognize this “rush” pattern. What happens is that, as a result, I lack the deeper sense of what I’m after. Without that, the connection from inside me isn’t the driving force. I need that. That connection.

It’s fall now. Letting go time. And the ideas for later, for spring. And then it’s inside. Inside the earth. Inside the self. Winter.

I need the winter season for each new development of my art. I need to honor the time when it’s all below ground. For this new idea for a piece, I’ll give it just that.

Let the last leaf drop off the tree. And then… quiet. So essential.