Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

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Feel like blooming.

There is something to the spring cleaning. The refresh. And it’s probably no surprise that the new Home Edit series was just released on Netflix. I will admit that I am excited by their organization. Inspired to do my own. This, mixed with trees in bloom, the flowers singing along with the birds, I begin.

I am not one who believes I have to buy more things to get my old things in order. No judgements, just me. I’ve always liked shopping my own dwelling. And I do. Frequently. I started with a good clean of the bathroom. Changed out the painting. Changed the postcard. Took the candle that I was gifted for Christmas out of its red container (red wouldn’t do) – put that candle into an appropriate container (a previously used up candle), and lit it, of course. And I picked a small flowering stem from our garden. As we say here, quite loosely I might add, Voila!

There is something quite satisfying about a spring refresh, and I slept well. The next morning, not quite awake, I turned on the bathroom light, and my heart smiled to the tips of my mouth. That, my friends, is refreshing.

I’ve started tackling my office. And it occurred to me, maybe I could do this within, within myself. An edit. Let go of the old feelings I’m not using anymore, the ones just cluttering up space, gathering dust…wouldn’t that be something! And even if it lasted for a day, a season, and I did it again, wouldn’t that, just like the spring birds, give my heart something to sing about! I think so! My inner voices must deserve as much attention as the shelf in my office. And so I begin. The load a little lighter, a little cleaner, in my house, in my heart. I smile, and feel like blooming.


Welcome to the garden.

I was born in the springtime, every year. I can’t say that I’ve ever been much for New Year’s Eve. Sure, I’ll enjoy a glass of champagne and kiss in the beginning of the coming year, but for me, it doesn’t hold the magic of spring.

When the birds start to sing a little louder, the light lasts a little longer, the trees open up their branches in bloom, this, this for me, is intoxicating.

Our apricot and plum trees are covered in flowers. It is pure art. Coy as the Mona Lisa smile, the bloom says, well, I promised, and here I am. They just can’t stop smiling, and neither can I. I want to clean fresh, create new, enjoy every moment of this life. I am born again, for the first time and I too want to bloom.

The air smells not just clean, but sweet, and I feel lighter. Each step has just a bit of a bounce and I know none of it is to be wasted. I want, I need, to take that bounce and toss it against the page, the canvas, the hearts around me and follow it wherever it leads. I, we, get another fresh start. What a gift! I skip to the song of the birds, and know that I am new.