As summer stretched into its golden hour, I found myself reflecting on the rhythm this little watercolor ritual has brought me.

It began, as all things do, with intention: one painting a day, every morning — just me, a cup of coffee, and a blank sheet of paper. But somewhere between the blooms of May and the firework skies of July, it became something more than a routine. It became a quiet companion to the season.

A Season of Color and Celebration

May was pure joy, a month of loose petals and wild blooms, each one a nod to the world in full flower outside my window.

In June, I celebrated my birthday with cheerful little details: cakes, candles, party hats, and tiny moments of celebration. There’s something lovely about painting the things that bring you joy, even in miniature form.

Then came July, my first Independence Day in the US after fifteen years abroad. For so long, celebrating the Fourth from across the pond always made me smile; it felt distant, yet familiar. But this year, it felt deeply meaningful. Grounded. Like I was exactly where I was meant to be. I painted everything in red, white, and blue: flags, summer berries, beach scenes, and felt grateful for the space to create.

August became a month of two halves: the gentle hum of back-to-school nostalgia at first, followed by the abundance of late summer: the vegetable garden brimming with carrots, peas, and radishes, each one a reward for the season’s care.

A Shift in Materials (and Mindset)

Over the summer, I made a small but meaningful shift, moving from palette paints to watercolor tubes. It wasn’t just a technical change; it was sensory, too. Squeezing fresh pigment and mixing it on delicate ruffle-edged plates felt like leaning deeper into the ritual, more tactile, more deliberate.

And while my practice remained structured, same time each morning, same small square of paper, it also became a space of freedom. Some mornings, my thoughts wandered toward Daydream Paper Studio. Other days, I found myself dreaming up children’s book characters or imaginary gardens. Every now and then, something unexpected and beautiful unfolded on the page, a quiet kind of magic.

Summer’s Favorite Moments

In May, I loved the contrast between single stems: a hydrangea or delphinium, and the fullness of bouquets filled with tulips or lilacs.

June’s color palette softened into pinks and blues, sprinkled with playful party motifs: hats, cakes, ribbons.

July, of course, burst with the brightest colors of the year: red, white, and blue.

And while I enjoyed painting schoolbooks, apples, and backpacks in August, my favorites were the vegetables, the humble roots and leafy greens that reminded me of patience, growth, and the simple beauty of tending to what’s in front of you.

The Golden Light of Summer

There’s something beautifully nostalgic about summer: its golden light, its long evenings, its moments that feel like they might last forever. This season of painting reminded me that creativity doesn’t have to be grand to be meaningful. A watercolor, a quiet morning, a single joyful brushstroke, sometimes, that’s enough.

Looking ahead, as autumn settles in and winter peeks around the corner, I find myself craving coziness, slower days, softer colors, the warmth of a mug between my hands. Still, the golden glow of this summer lingers, like the echo of a favorite song humming quietly in the background.

Want to Follow Along?

You can see the full watercolor journey on Pinterest: Daily Watercolors • A Year of Painting Or you can check some of my monthly painting here.

And every Friday, I share my favorite pieces from the week in my From the Studio series on Instagram — a gentle celebration of color, creativity, and the joy of showing up for something you love.

However busy life gets, I hope you’ll find your own version of this golden hour: a moment to pause, create, and simply be. Because in the warmth of those small, ordinary moments… something extraordinary often takes root.