First Green: The Early Days of Spring

There is a quiet magic to the first days of spring.

Before the world bursts into color, it whispers in green—tiny, delicate hints that the earth is stirring awake after a long and dreaming sleep. A blush of moss brightening on stones, a thread of green across the forest floor, buds rounding at the tips of branches.

This season always feels like a threshold to me, full of possibility and soft beginnings. The cold air still lingers, and some days the sky feels more gray than blue. Yet there, among the stillness, the first greens shimmer—a promise tucked into the folds of the landscape.

In the studio, I find myself drawn to these subtle awakenings. I stitch with pale moss-colored threads, layer paintings with soft washes of gold and sage, and gather textures that remind me of a thawing world. Pieces like the Sunrise Quiltlet hold this spirit—a patchwork of dawn colors stitched from salvaged silks and wool, a small bright hope you can hold in your hand.

Working with natural elements feels especially meaningful in this season. Even in the cold months, rose petals can be brewed into tender dyes, and dried leaves crushed into earthy pigments. It reminds me that nature’s gifts endure quietly through the winter, carrying their stories forward into spring.

If you feel called to, take a walk outside with soft eyes. Look for the moss, the lichen, the shy sprouts at the edges of things. These first greens are the earth’s small stitches of renewal—subtle, but strong.

Maybe you’ll find a tiny talisman to bring home: a fallen feather, a seed pod, a stone warmed by the sun. Or maybe you’ll carry just the memory of that green shimmer, tucked into your pocket for safekeeping.

Either way, spring is beginning—and there is so much yet to unfurl.