I grew up in the Detroit suburban sprawl of Redford Township.
My dad's cousin owned a farm, and every harvest we'd pile into our 1961 Chevy Impala and headed to Ohio.
What do I remember the most?
In October, they'd shed fistfuls of feathers, making them look worst than Mom's scraggly and matted morning bed-head.
Lucky for me, during this shedding season, chickens don't lay eggs so my tender, nine-year-old hands were spared from getting pecked since I didn't have to poke under a hen's privates.
Interesting enough, there's a reason for this season of dormancy. It's a chance for chickens to build up their nutrients so they can strut a fresh flock of feathers for winter warmth, and start laying eggs again.
This instinctive self-care revitalizes and refuels them.
Where are you in your self-care cycle?
I'm lucky that my profession is my self-care.
When I paint I'm:
Of course, art in your home provides self-care comfort, too.
Takes you places ... to the shoreline where the water licks and laps your toes
Captures a memory ... the rustle of wind through the birch branches at Lake Charlevoix
Stimulates a mood ... gigantic puffy clouds scoop your worries away
Makes you feel ... soothing blues settle your spinning mind
Invites conversation and sparks connection ...
Infuses your personality into your home ...
My wish for you is to find your own method of self-care. Art in your home is never selfish, it gives, and gives, and gives.
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