Spring Windowlight and Bending Toward Joy

This one began exactly the way I love—quietly, with morning sun sliding through the studio window like it had something to say.

Whenever I start a piece, I ask the same question: Which material wants to lead today?

And the forsythia practically shouted, "Me!" Bright, fresh, full of that early-spring optimism.

I placed the tallest branch as the Shin, letting it stretch upward without forcing anything. Forsythia seems to know where it wants to go. Then I added a second branch as the Soe, angled just enough to lean into the sunlight. Suddenly the whole piece felt awake.

For the Hikae, a warm yellow daisy nestled in at the base, soft, grounded, completely charming just like the sun smiling from below.

A few tiny button blooms added little sparks of joy, and some delicate greenery tucked everything together.

When I stepped back, it felt like that first warm day after winter: gentle, hopeful, and full of possibility.

This one started with the sweetest little vessel that is textured, earthy, standing on tiny feet. It looked like it was ready to walk away on its own. I knew instantly: this will be fun.

I began with the green bells. They naturally curve in this bold, sweeping way, and instead of correcting them, I let their beautiful bend lead. That long arc became my Shin, a gesture full of movement.

Then came the second line, my Soe, softer and lower, like it was echoing the thought without repeating it. Together, they felt like two friends leaning toward each other mid-conversation.

The cluster of pink carnations settled in as the Hikae, bringing warmth and cheer right into the heart of the vessel. There's something about carnations that always feel like laughter, soft and genuine.

By the end, the whole piece felt like a small celebration of early spring energy, the stretch after rest, the first deep breath, the little spark of joy returning.