Week 2, 2026

This week’s palette lives in pink.

Not the loud, declarative kind, but as tenderness. Pink as something that doesn’t need to announce itself to be felt.

This week I wanted to honor tulips, one of the season’s first bloomers. They grow slowly through winter, pushing upward long before conditions are ideal. They didn’t wait for perfect light or warmth to arrive; they began anyway. There’s something deeply grounding about that.

Working with a limited color palette and flower variety invites slowness. It asks us to notice variation rather than contrast: the curve of a stem, the way one pink leans warm while another cools, a closed bud beside a bloom just beginning to open. Within restraint, there’s room for nuance.

This arrangement was made with intention and care, as a reminder that softness can coexist with strength, and that growth doesn’t always arrive all at once. Sometimes it unfolds gently. Sometimes it begins before we feel ready.

Flowers, for me, are a ritual.

A pause in the week. A moment to place something living in a room and tend to it: changing the water, trimming the stems, watching it shift day by day. These small acts of care anchor us. They invite us back into the present, into patience, into noticing.

This palette is an invitation to do just that: to move slowly, to choose softness, and to let beauty exist without needing a reason.