Good Morning, Sweetheart
This piece began with the quiet early mornings when my children would wake before the rest of the world. I would lie beside them and make up stories about tiny homes suspended among leaves, secret ladders and little worlds waiting to be discovered.
I have always had a wild imagination. My thoughts often arrive as pictures before they become words, so I sketch and paint them. Good Morning, Sweetheart holds the tenderness of those sleepy mornings—the warmth of lying together and the magical places we created before the day began.
Good Morning, Sweetheart
This piece began with the quiet early mornings when my children would wake before the rest of the world. I would lie beside them and make up stories about tiny homes suspended among leaves, secret ladders and little worlds waiting to be discovered.
I have always had a wild imagination. My thoughts often arrive as pictures before they become words, so I sketch and paint them. Good Morning, Sweetheart holds the tenderness of those sleepy mornings—the warmth of lying together and the magical places we created before the day began.
