Spring Brings Change

following the creative pulse

Creativity nourishes my soul. Spring sings of creation—birds build nests, shoots emerge from wet soil, tree frogs emerge from the winter hideaways. While watering the garden yesterday, I spied three lime-green tree frogs tucked into the leaves of different plants. I felt a motherly tenderness toward these little amphibians and a gratitude that they emerge each year for us to witness. Nature is and always will be my creative muse.

I believe this is spice bush. The blooms looked like little bursts of fireworks on the branches.

I used to believe creativity was something to be categorized and welded to identity: I am a writer. I am a painter. I am a basketmaker. You get the idea. I believed we each fit into a single genre, and that was that.

Spring tells me otherwise. It shows me that creativity is a living system—restless, generative, constantly reshaping itself. It is the current that connects us to the mysterious source from which we emerged.

What we call ourselves—painter, writer, basketmaker—are simply forms. Temporary containers we shape that current into.

Nature show us that form is always changing.

This is dog fennel. I love to watch this plant through its yearly cycle. The shoots die in the winter and leave sculptural shapes on the landscape. In the spring, the green tufts emerge at the bottom and by mid summer they will be tall and feathery.

I’ve been following the live-wire connection of my own creative pulse.

We moved into a newly renovated old house last spring—a year ago this week—and began sourcing pieces from thrift stores to furnish it. What started as a budgeting decision quickly became something else entirely. A creative awakening.

I began to notice what I was drawn to—objects with history, weight, and soul. In the past, I looked to glossy magazines and big-box websites to guide me. I outsourced my eye.

Now my home is layered with story. Color, form, art, pottery—each piece chosen not for trend, but for resonance.

This pursuit has become its own kind of adventure. I’ve studied early American pottery houses, traced the lives of artists whose work I’ve uncovered, and even reached out to a Norwegian metalworking studio about a pair of Brutalist sculptures I found.

The reply came from the maker’s son. He confirmed what I had hoped: they were his father’s work.

This is what happens when you follow the thread. Creativity stops being something you label—and becomes something you live inside of.

I will write more about the Brutalist sculptures soon.

Finding little notes like this make my heart leap. Blessings to you, Laurance and Dorothy Botts, whereever you are in the universe.

So now, I follow the pulse of change.

My Substack has taken on a new form—a place to tell the stories of what I find. I’ve renamed it Patina Notes. It is a record of what I am learning, noticing, and uncovering.

Life is not linear; it is a spiral. The objects I find carry something with them—evidence of lives lived, hands that made them, places they’ve been.

When those stories are brought into the present, something shifts. The past is no longer distant. It becomes part of the current.

And in that current, we reconnect to the source of creation itself.

---

Thank you for reading and your continued support!

A few end notes:

1. My mother was the original thrifter in our family, so here I give her a shout- out. Thank you, Mom, for being a way-shower, even if I rejected your philosophy for 46 years.

2. Pieces move in and out of my house as I follow the creative current. The ones I let go of are in the Etsy store I am building. I have curated this space with care and each object is something special to me.

3. I’m sharing styling tips for how to incorporate vintage in your home on my Instagram. This is the fun part!

Here’s a vintage takraw racket of a set that I bought.

I hung the set on the wall and turned them into plant holders. The picture, the pillows, the sofa and the rattan baskets are also all thrifted.

Thank you for being here with me on this journey. Xo, Katie