09/08/2026
There's an Eastern redbud tree in my backyard that I've watched through many seasons.
I knew its pink blossoms in spring, its heart-shaped leaves, and the seed pods that appear later in the year.
But sometimes seeing something isn't quite the same as really looking at it.
When I began paying closer attention to those seed pods—their shape, their structure, all the little details I had passed over before—I started to see how beautiful they really were.
I photographed them. I drew them. And after watching the tree through the seasons, it almost felt inevitable. Over time, it became my Eastern Redbud herbarium botanical study.
I keep thinking about how often that happens with the familiar. We see something every day, until one day we look just a little more closely—and find there was more there all along.
Sometimes the familiar has more to show us.
We only have to pause long enough to see it.
I wrote more about this in the latest Letters from the Studio, The Hundred and First Time. You can read the letter at the link in my bio.
