June 2025
Hello, friends!
The month of June has quietly arrived, stretching the days longer and warming the light just a little more. It’s the official start of summer—when everything starts to feel slower, softer, and a bit more golden. It’s a season I always associate with rest, curiosity, and gentle motion. The kind that says: you don’t have to rush.
A Growing Community
This month also brings something I'm truly excited about: we’ve officially welcomed new subscribers into the mini art family! We’re now 58 members strong, which feels like the most beautiful milestone. That’s 58 envelopes, each filled with an original, hand-painted mini piece that’s made its way into someone’s home. For those of you who are new, you can go back and read blogs from the begining of this year to get to know me, the community and the past mini’s that have been mailed!
To those of you who shared this project with a friend, signed up for yourself, or passed it along to someone you thought would appreciate this little community—thank you. I only open the mini club twice a year, in December and June, so your support and enthusiasm during these windows means the world to me. It’s deeply felt and deeply appreciated.
When I first started the mini series, it was simply a way to get myself painting consistently again—to rediscover the joy of creating small, meaningful works without the pressure of perfection. But it’s grown into something so much more. It’s become a monthly rhythm, a heartbeat. A way to tell stories, share little pieces of my life, and stay connected in an often-disconnected world.
And knowing that these tiny paintings are living in so many different places now? That’s still a little surreal.
A look at June’s past to get into this month’s discussion…
Summer Nostalgia
Growing up in Florida, June was always the official start of summer. You’d get your summer reading list (which, let’s be honest, I never actually read), pick out a new bathing suit that you practically lived in, and Mom would stock the pantry with the good snacks—popsicles, Goldfish, Gushers. It was like the month of June felt infinite, and the whole summer stretched ahead like a long, magical journey where each day brought something new.
There’s a unique rhythm to Florida summers—the kind of heat that slows you down whether you like it or not, and the sound of sprinklers, cicadas, and the occasional afternoon thunderstorm. It was the season of sleepovers, pool days, and getting sticky with sunscreen and melted freezer pops. Those memories are baked into how I experience this time of year, and I think that nostalgia plays a quiet part in how I approach this month’s minis.
A list of nostolgic summer feelings, sounds, tastes… (please add yours in the comment section below)!
Chasing the ice cream truck barefoot and yelling for quarters.
Thinking sunscreen was optional, then spending the night covered in aloe and regret.
“Swimming” in a sprinkler that barely rotated.
Using a towel as a cape, fort, picnic blanket, and beach mat—all in the same day.
Drinking from the garden hose like it was a sacred rite.
Sleepovers where you stayed up until 3am… and somehow woke up at 7.
Dramatically declaring “I’m bored” by June 5th.
Eating popsicles so fast you got a brain freeze and blue tongue.
Water balloon fights that escalated way too quickly.
That squeak your flip-flops make when they are wet, walking back from the water.
Mosquito bites in weird places. Every. Single. Year.
Wearing a swimsuit under your clothes everywhere, “just in case.”
Letting Summer Be Easy
Summer has a way of stirring something in all of us. Maybe it’s the childhood memories, the scent of sunscreen, or just the way time feels different when the days stretch on. But there's also this expectation we sometimes put on ourselves to make the most of it. To go, do, see, achieve.
This year, I’m trying something different. I want to let summer be easy. To lean into slowness. I want to notice the way the light shifts in the house from morning to afternoon. I want to read books on the porch without guilt. I want to wander through antique stores just because. I want to sit still long enough to hear the cicadas sing.
And that’s what the boats reminded me of. They don’t push or pull. They’re not trying to force their way forward. They’re held by the water and moved by something greater—and they trust that’s enough.
So this month’s minis are my quiet invitation to you: let things be easy, if you can. Let them be soft. Trust that where you are is part of where you’re going.
Life, Unpacked (Mostly)
On a more personal note, we’re slowly but surely settling into the new house. The walls still feel a bit bare, the routines aren’t quite established, and I keep opening the wrong drawer for the silverware—but it’s starting to feel like home.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the difference between transition and transformation. Moving is definitely a transition—a messy, chaotic one at times—but I think it’s also quietly transforming me. This season is teaching me patience, reminding me how much I crave creative space, and humbling me in all the ways only moving can.
You know, like realizing you don’t really need five spatulas. Or that the bookshelf you’ve kept for years is actually kind of falling apart. Or that a weed-filled yard does not, in fact, pull itself.
Creating Amid the Chaos
Despite all the moving parts (pun slightly intended), I’ve been holding on to my creative practice like a lifeline. This month, I’ll also be teaching embroidery classes at House on Lang! If you're local and want to join me, I’d love to have you there. It’s a beautiful space and teaching is something I find deeply energizing and inspiring.
That said, I won’t pretend it’s been easy to carve out time to make art while managing a life in transition. There are days I feel scattered. Days I don’t paint. Days I just sit and stare at my to-do list. But even then, I find myself daydreaming about all the things I want to create once I catch my breath. And sometimes, that’s enough to keep going.
I’m not going to lie, I have not painted a new original piece (besides these mini’s) in a REALLY long time. Summer is typically when I do most of my creating, something about the vibes feeling right. So please stand by for new creations soon to come!
This Month’s Mini
For June’s mini, I painted boats—each one slightly different from the next. Some lean into soft, sun-bleached tones; others are bolder and more detailed. A few are anchored, others adrift. But they all hold one thing in common: movement without urgency.
Boats felt like the perfect symbol for this moment. After weeks of packing, moving, settling in, and letting the dust (and bubble wrap) settle, I found myself craving stillness and softness. The boats came from that headspace—a quiet reminder to follow the current, trust the tide, and believe we’re being taken exactly where we need to go, even if we don’t know the destination yet.
It was oddly grounding to paint them while still surrounded by cardboard boxes and half-hung curtains. Each one became a meditation. A tiny moment of escape.
Here’s to What’s Next
Whether you’re spending June poolside, working overtime, traveling, or just trying to keep your plants alive in the heat, I hope you find a moment to pause and float. Even if only for a minute.
These boats are my reminder to you—and to myself—that it’s okay to not have it all figured out. You’re allowed to drift for a while. You’re allowed to trust the current. You’re allowed to start your summer not with a sprint, but with a sigh of relief.
As always, thank you for letting me share this journey with you.
Check below for some of our May Mini’s shared within our community… be sure to tag me or send me photos of your minis in your space!
xx,
Jessie