I knew it was time when I walked outside and smelled the first hint of fresh grass.
Spring is here.
I walked straight to the garage and got to work bringing out the wicker furniture, colorful pillows, rugs, and accents.
With an excited urgency, I revived my sanctuary, the one that goes to sleep for the coldest months of the year, before coming back to life the minute the air changes in spring.
It’s my front porch. My place for rest; for reflection; for creativity.
On my porch, surrounded by the decoration of past and present, I feel truly at home.
We all need safe, nurturing spaces.
Something magical happens to me when I’m on my porch. I feel more creative. I feel lighter. I feel more in tune with the rhythmic cycles of the natural world.
It’s not just the ambient sounds of birdsong. Or the light breeze that makes its way through the screens. Or the warmth of the rising sun.
It’s also the antique bird cage I found at a flea market years ago. And the chipped metal pitcher that was once my grandmother’s. It’s my cat, Rocky, cuddled up beside me, waiting for me to take a break from painting to pet him.
Looking at the antique bird cage, I’m reminded of a 1993 interview with Oprah, where Dr. Maya Angelou was reflecting on the writing of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.
In it, she said this: “I don’t agree with Thomas Wolfe’s statement that you can’t go home again. My belief is that you can never leave home. You take it with you, wherever you go. My past is my present.”
I don’t come out to my porch to escape. I come out here to be reminded... of all that’s happened in the past to bring me to today. Of all the present happenings, both light and heavy, that are testing my strength and building my resolve. Of the future, and all that there is to look forward to.
Bearing witness to the world around me, via the news, social media, and in private conversations with friends and family, it’s clear that while life is beautiful, everyone’s got it hard in some way, shape, or form.
Everything that has happened to and for us has gotten us to where we are today. All that we’re going through right now — no matter how hard — is shaping who we’ll become.
It’s all so, so worth it.
And. The simple truth is this: We can’t do life alone.
Without spaces that make us feel safe and nurtured, whether that be in particular places or people, it would be very hard to survive.
For the next few months, you’ll find me on my front porch. Taking each day as it comes, finding solace in my sanctuary, and leaning on those who lift me up — in hopes I do the same for them.
I’d love to hear from you: Where do you find sanctuary? What people and places in your life create a space that makes you feel safe and nurtured?