Field Notes - January

Happy 7th day of 2026.

I took our tree down just a few days after Christmas. There’s always a twinge of sadness in taking it down, and maybe that’s why I rush it—so I don’t have to sit with the leaving. Next year, I think I’ll wait a little longer.

December was as full as it always is with all of it’s festivities. We added an extra thing when we were given Saint’s tickets. The boys brought a few friends, and it ended up being one of my favorite December memories.

We also hosted the Spencer fam annual “Cousins Christmas”. The brood is up to 15. We added a new baby in 2025, and everyone is over the moon for “Tator” - his real name is Spencer - which is the cutest, but we’ve dubbed him “Tator” because he’s just so delicious.

I tried to get as much as I could done before Christmas break…but I ended up needing to finish up a few things which usually means I bring it inside the house. In full disclosure, I wasn’t always smiling and painting. With five boys running in and out, it’s just a lot of chaos. Happy chaos (usually), but when I’m working, I tend to prefer calm. Expectations had to be adjusted.;)

I got done what I could and then put work away for a week or so before and after Christmas. The pieces below are part of a collection releasing at Well and Wonder on January 26th. They are pictured unframed and are currently at the framers getting their finish on. Stay tuned for the final iteration.

As I reflect back on 2025, I’m grateful for all the ordinary days. When you take stock, you realize they’re actually pretty remarkable.

I guess, even the ones that are inconvenient.

There were some less than ordinary days too, and some memories I hope to cherish forever.

As I look ahead to 2026, my hope is simply to be open to what God gives and present to what I bring.

Art, for me, is a way of inviting myself—and others—to stop and see. It’s a way of placing a frame around a moment. My work does this literally, framing an ordinary plant and asking it to be noticed. Rembrandt was known for painting ordinary people, revealing something significantly human that was overlooked.

Frederick Buechner writes, “It’s easy to look and see what we pass through in this world, but we don’t. If you’re like me, you see so little. You see what you expect to see rather than what’s there.”

Maybe in 2026, we can practice seeing a little more slowly and a little more clearly. Like most of life, it’s the simplest things that are the hardest to practice—but they offer the greatest reward.

With love and blessings for 2026, to you and yours,

Amy