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I help brands (and people) to find their why. (hint - only you know it)
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 14
- Latest publication
- Sep 28, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Aug 6, 2026
Latest issues
Marshmallows and Other Small Mercies (opens the original)
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I am on day two of a bad case of covid, propped up in bed inside a small snowdrift of tissues, with a head that weighs roughly as much as a bowling ball. I keep waiting for my energy to come back from wherever it went. My family used to joke about my 3 speeds - fast, faster and off. I feel like the plug has been pulled out of the wall.Last week it was the other way around.Thanks for reading The Hail Mary Artist! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.<form class=
Losing a Phone, Gaining a Surprise (opens the original)
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Driving for five hours is its own particular kind of tired. You haven’t really done anything, and yet you arrive wrung out, stiff in places you didn’t know could stiffen, faintly queasy from too many almonds or trail mix.As Elizabeth Bennet said in Pride and Prejudice, ‘I’m very fond of walking.’Thanks for reading The Hail Mary Artist! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.<form class="subscription-widget-s
A Painter’s Palette of Fall Colors (opens the original)
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My son Will and his fiancée Maddie chose their wedding colors months ago: burnt sienna, Van Dyke brown, and a deep ultramarine blue. I had nothing to do with these choices, but they are pigments I reach for quite a bit. (Add Payne’s Grey and it would be too coincidental.) Somewhere along the way our palette choices merged, and I mean that in the best way, like the water spreading in the little painting I did for their Save the Date, what feels like ages ago.<a class="image-link image2 is-viewabl
Don’t Forget Your Permission Slip (opens the original)
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Every time September rolls around, I make a kind of private vow, which is really more of a private deal with myself - no rushing things along toward fall. The world speeds up without anyone needing to encourage the leaves to turn faster, the air to cool down or the calendars to fill up. As a gardener, it’s true, I am eager to pick out multiple colors of mums, but my husband always keeps them at bay, insisting they have no welcome here until October. The same goes for apples, he insists.So, witho
Walking Each Other Home (opens the original)
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There is, as the old verse goes, a season for everything — a time to be born, a time to die, a time to mourn, a time to dance.My time to dance was this summer, one of the most joyful seasons of my entire life — Hannah’s wedding, two hundred people under a tent facing an ocean in the bright sunshine. Walking her down the aisle with my husband was truly an out of body experience, as neither of us can remember it. It’s as if we were lifted above somehow, or not even there, even though I felt like I
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