Do you smell that?

Spring is in the air. It smells like grass, hope and... AHCHOOOO! Sorry. As much as I love the scent of grass, I’m also allergic. But I meant to say possibility.

As much as I love winter’s cocoon—the slow mornings, the restful pause, the guilt-free hibernation—by the end of it, I’m itching (and sneezing) for change. I crave sunshine-filled days, birdsong, and fresh air spilling through open windows. I want colour and noise and new life. I want to stretch out after months of curling inward.

Spring feels like a reset button. I get the same excited buzz I used to feel on the first day of school in September. And even though I’m 45 ( gasp ) and haven’t seen a locker in two decades, I still feel it. That electricity. That whisper that says: “Something new is about to begin.” Maybe it’s the way the trees begin to bud again. Or the way the sun lingers longer in the sky, like it knows we’ve been craving its company. There’s something so sacred about that slow return to life. It reminds me that change doesn’t have to be loud or big. It can be tender. Slow. Gentle. It can come in the form of green peeking through grey. Spring is a reminder that change is beautiful, even the hard kind. It softens something in me. Makes me more grateful for life and the for the beauty that’s always around, waiting for us to notice. Sometimes we forget how magical life is. But spring shines a spotlight on all the beauty we’ve been too tired or busy to see.

Spring makes me feel like anything is possible. I come back to life. I smile more. I feel more energetic. I feel more me . I reconnect with myself. After a season of hibernation and stillness, I feel like I’m slowing defrosting. I spend more time outside—gardening, hiking, deep-cleaning, lounging on the deck. Bliss.

Spring inspires my art in the same way it inspires the earth. I fling open the windows in my studio, let in the birdsong and delicious breeze, and I feel it—creativity bubbling back up. As I breathe in the air, I swear I can feel the magic moving through me—circulating in my lungs, warming my blood, nudging me to sprinkle that energy into my art and out into the world. The ideas I’d buried in the snow start blooming again. My colours get brighter. My characters dance on the page. Even my lines feel lighter, more hopeful.

And maybe that’s the magic of spring. It wakes up the parts of us that went quiet. It reminds us that our inner winters—our dark, heavy, frozen seasons—aren’t permanent. They’re part of the cycle. They serve a purpose. But eventually, warmth returns. And we begin again.

Nature doesn’t rush, and yet everything blooms. Spring doesn’t ask the trees if they’re ready. It just shows up, and the trees respond.

Spring is here to remind us:

That rest is growth. That beauty returns, even after the darkest seasons. That the earth doesn’t bloom all at once, and neither do we. So if you’re still thawing out, that’s okay. Take a deep breath. Smell the earth waking up. Let spring work its magic on you.

Therapeutic Art Activity: What’s Sprouting?

This activity invites you to pause and notice the subtle shifts happening beneath the surface. Inside each seed, write something that’s just starting to grow in your heart or mind. Not everything blooms all at once. Some things take their sweet time. You just need to show up with a pen, a little curiosity, and the tiniest bit of trust that something beautiful is already on its way. What you’ll need:

· A printed copy of this activity (click the button below to download for free)

· Pen or pencil

· Optional: watercolour paints or coloured pencils Instructions:

1. Start by looking at the four seeds on the page.

2. Inside each one, write something that’s just beginning to grow within you — a thought, a feeling, a dream, a tiny shift. Nothing is too small.

3. Above each seed, imagine what your dream, thought, feeling etc would look like. Draw, paint, or write it. No rules here.

4. Take your time. There’s no rush. Some seeds take longer to sprout.