Where it all began...
Everything familiar and safe had suddenly gone.
The ground felt like it had been pulled out from under my feet - the plans, the people, the rhythms I’d built my life around.
In the middle of that uncertainty, I was left with an ache I couldn’t quite name.
Somewhere deep down, I’d known what was missing.
But I’d buried it beneath years of good reasons, half-formed excuses, and the busyness of helping others find their creativity while quietly ignoring my own.
Then, one afternoon in 2018, sitting across from Sam, my now husband, in a Costa coffee shop, everything changed.
I was staring into an empty mug, trying to make sense of the question that stopped me cold:
“Being an artist is still a dream for you… isn’t it?”
My heart lurched. The question darted around inside me like one of those frenzied flies pounding against a windowpane desperate to escape into the world beyond.
Because the truth was, I’d always known I was an artist.
But I’d convinced myself it was safer to keep that dream tucked away - especially after my teenage self had been rejected from the art uni she’d dreamed of attending since she was a little girl.
I told myself I didn’t have time.
I told myself I couldn’t afford the materials.
I told myself it wasn’t realistic to make a living as an artist.
But beneath every excuse was fear - fear that the dream would not survive the light of day in the real world.
Sam’s question lingered. He simply said,
“Why don’t you just paint something?”
At the time, I brushed it off. I told him I’d wait for something to "ping" - something that would spark inspiration... of course, just another way I resisted!
I didn’t know then how soon that “ping” would come, or how it would set the trajectory of the next chapter of my life.
'A Road Made For Love' - First Painting
The Bluebell Wood
That conversation stayed with me over the following weeks. Then one morning, I went for a walk through the woods. I was craving quiet.
It was early spring. The trees were still bare from winter. Suddenly, just ahead, a shimmer of colour caught my eye.
A river of electric-blue light spilled across the forest floor - bluebells, alive and luminous, running through what seemed lifeless.
It stopped me in my tracks. A deep, wordless sense of awe pulled me out of myself and into wonder.
This was the ‘ping’ moment. And all I wanted in that moment, strangely enough for me, was to paint it.
This first painting 'A Road Made for Love' unlocked something in me - the courage to begin again, and seek out beauty and wonder as you carve a new path.
As I painted more and the bluebell season past, I became fascinated following the path of the stream flowing through the forest and winding its way into the wide open spaces and skies beyond. It mirrored what was happening inside me - a shift from safety into possibility, from hiding into wide open spaces.
What Wonder Teaches Me
That moment in the bluebell wood didn’t just give me a subject to paint but it gave me a new way to see.
It reminded me that even in seasons that feel barren, life is running quietly beneath the surface, waiting to emerge- perhaps in a new way that might surprise.
Because that's what awe and wonder do. They catch us off guard, light something up within, and invite us to look again. To come up higher. To see with renewed eyes.
Maybe you’ve felt it too: that sudden spark that stops you in your tracks, lifts your spirit, and opens your eyes to something larger than yourself.
Every painting I create now carries a trace of this moment - an invitation to step into wonder, to linger and let the world open just a little wider to take the next step toward what we cannot yet see.
Thank you for letting me share a piece of my story. I hope my work helps you find a little of that same light and wonder wherever you find yourself today.
