This past week has reminded me just how delicate life really is.
I will warn you, this is a bit sad, and it is about the loss of an animal. Not everyone can handle reading things like this....
After the joy and energy of my first show of the season, and the beautiful one-year celebration and official grand opening of my gallery, I expected to ride that wave of excitement for a while. But life has a way of shifting the ground beneath your feet when you least expect it.
A freak accident caused us to lose one of our sweet chickens, my favorite one of all...'Little One Skye'. She not only passed but passed in my hands.
She wasn’t just a chicken to me. She was gentle, curious, and always the first to run up to me. Animals have their own way of choosing their people, and she chose me. And when you love an animal, any animal, you love them with your whole heart. Some might say, 'yea, but it's just a chicken'. That doesn't matter. She was still a life. And love is love.
Little One Skye's passing left a deep ache in my heart. The kind of ache that makes you stop moving and remember how fragile everything is.
I spent hours in my garden this week. My hands in the soil, letting the rhythm of nature ease my thoughts. Breathing in the smell of the rich, cool soil. There’s something about the earth that knows how to hold grief without asking you to explain it. The garden doesn’t rush you. It doesn’t try to fix anything. It just gives you space to feel.
I planted a pink hydrangea where Little One Skye rests.
Nature, the garden, it has always been my quiet teacher, showing me that even in loss, something new can bloom. That beauty and sorrow can somehow live side by side. That healing doesn’t come all at once, but in small, gentle moments.
Life is fragile, but nature reminds me that it’s also resilient.
So many of us love our animals like family, whether they’re dogs, cats, horses, or a beautiful little chicken. Their lives may be short, but the love they give is enormous. And when they go, the grief is real because the bond was real.
The hydrangea will forever bloom in Little One Skye's honor. And every time I walk past it, I’ll remember that love doesn’t disappear, it just changes form.
Maybe that’s the lesson Little One Skye left behind: to love fully, to slow down, and to let nature help carry the things our hearts can’t hold alone.
If you're feeling the pain of loss or experiencing grief in your heart, please don't sit inside. Step out, anywhere. In your own backyard, in a quiet park, take a stroll through the forest. Nature is there to hold you, and what is lost comes out in every part of nature, just in another form.
We'll talk soon....
