Daily Watercolors: A Year of Painting
In January 2025, I began each morning with a brush in hand and a simple promise to myself: to paint a little something every day. What started as a quiet way to reconnect with joy and creativity has become a rhythm of my year—a daily practice of noticing beauty, playing with color, and greeting the day with intention.
From snowy winter mornings to sun-dappled kitchen corners and the soft shift of seasons, each painting is a glimpse into the ordinary moments that shape a life. This gallery is a place to gather those small studies—a year in watercolor, one gentle brushstroke at a time.
January: A Winter Wonderland
This was my first winter back in the U.S. after 15 years away, and everything felt both new and nostalgic. Snow-covered fields, frosty windows, and quiet gray mornings became my muse. I leaned into soft blues and gentle whites, painting the hush of winter and the comfort of being tucked inside—wrapped in warmth, memory, and a fresh start.
February: Sweetheart Season
February arrived like a whisper, with soft pink skies and the promise of warmth in the midst of winter’s chill. I leaned into the quiet romance of the season—painting hearts, handwritten notes, love letters left half-open, and the delicate details that speak without words. This month’s palette was full of blush tones and gentle reds, inspired by fleeting feelings, lace-edged paper, and the kind of sweetness that lingers long after the day is done.
March: The Heart of the Home
March brought a rhythm of warmth and flour-dusted mornings. After months of winter stillness, I found comfort in the simple act of making—measuring, stirring, kneading, steeping. I painted teacups on counters, golden croissants on crumpled napkins, and the quiet glow of the oven light. These small kitchen scenes felt like home—familiar, nurturing, and filled with love in its most nourishing form.
April: In the Garden
After a long, quiet winter, the world outside began to soften, and so did my brush. April felt like a season of slow awakenings: the first green shoots breaking through the soil, the clink of garden tools pulled from their winter rest, the shy unfolding of petals in the cool morning air. I painted watering cans, seed packets, and tender blossoms still damp with spring rain: small, hopeful signs that life was beginning again. In every brushstroke, I found a quiet joy: a reminder that even the smallest beginnings can grow into something beautiful.
May: In Bloom
May arrived in a flurry of petals and perfume. Everywhere I looked, something was blooming—lilacs heavy on the branch, garden roses tumbling open, and the soft green of new leaves unfolding like a secret. My palette brightened with each day: blush, lavender, leafy green, butter yellow. I painted armfuls of flowers, a floret seed packet, even a humble wheelbarrow filled with the joy of tending and gathering. This month, the act of painting felt like gathering a bouquet—each brushstroke a bloom, each moment a memory. It was a celebration of abundance, beauty, and the quiet magic that happens when we simply let things grow.Watercolors coming soon…
Behind the Brush: Reflections from the Studio
Each morning begins with a brushstroke, a quiet ritual of creativity, color, and joy.
In the Daydream Paper Studio Journal, I share the stories and inspirations behind this year-long watercolor journey: the simple moments that spark an idea, the beauty found in everyday life, and the lessons woven into the rhythm of slowing down to create.
Explore the journal to see the full reflections, seasonal inspirations, and a closer look behind the paintings.
