Give the world your love, your service, your healing, but you can also give it your joy. This too, is a great gift. ~ Archbishop Desmond Tutu
Boundless Tiny Moments is my first painting of 2026. It features a magical tiny fairy dancing with wild, vibrant energy… on a piccolo, no less. Because why not? Go big… but like, tiny-big.
As whimsical as she looks, there’s a deeper meaning behind this piece. It’s about finding joy in the smallest moments, even when life is being a full-on pain in the keister. (You know those days.) It’s about choosing delight anyway.
The inspiration for this painting came from an unexpected place.
One day I was listening to the classical radio station when they played Stars and Stripes Forever. This march has a special place in my heart for a few reasons. Years ago, I had the honor of playing it while traveling through Europe with a national band. My grandmother, who I was incredibly close to, loved that song. Her grandfather had even played in John Philip Sousa’s band.
But that wasn’t the first thought that crossed my mind when the music started.
Instead, I noticed the moment when the piccolo takes over. This tiny instrument suddenly becomes the star of the entire march. Surrounded by bold, booming brass, the piccolo balances the piece with its light, playful voice. Small, but powerful.
That moment struck me.
If you’ve seen my other work, you may notice a pattern. My paintings often celebrate small miracles; the beauty of nature and the quiet joy found in everyday life. A butterfly. A hummingbird. A single flower. They’re reminders that the smallest things can often make the biggest difference.
I knew right then that I wanted to paint something inspired by that idea. But I didn’t want to simply paint a piccolo.
As I sat with the idea, a fairy came to mind. I’ve always adored fairies. I’ve even tried convincing my daughter, who paints them beautifully, to create more of them. But she’s nineteen now and has her own artistic agenda.
So, I thought… why not try it myself?
I began sketching in ink, letting my imagination wander. The image that emerged felt whimsical, light, and carefree; a fairy dancing with magical movement, energy swirling all around her. She became my visual interpretation of those tiny but powerful moments of joy.
What I didn’t realize at first was how personal this painting would become.
The truth is that the beginning of this year wasn’t joyful at all. In fact, it downright sucked. I had planned to release several paintings in January and February, but life had other plans. I needed to pause and devote my time to healing work, reflection, and learning how to stay present.
As February arrived, I started feeling the heaviness of losing my grandmother the year before. I had always wanted to create a painting dedicated to her. Logically, that painting would probably be a cardinal. She loved the bright red cardinal! You could see them throughout her home and in her yard décor.
But as I sat with my grief, something else surfaced.
I remembered how much she loved Stars and Stripes Forever, and how proud she was of me for being chosen to perform in that national band traveling across Europe. I could picture her listening to the march, smiling, tapping her hands on her knees, her shoulders swaying as if she were marching along with the music.
That memory made me smile.
Just a small, tiny moment of joy in the middle of grief.
And in that moment, I realized something important: even during grief, those small moments of joy matter deeply. Sometimes they’re the very thing that helps carry us forward.
That’s when I knew this painting was really about her.
Boundless Tiny Moments became my way of honoring those fleeting sparks of joy. The ones that appear when we least expect them, and the ones that remind us how deeply love and memory stay with us.
Though knowing me… there will probably still be a cardinal painting someday.
Not because it’s the logical tribute.
But simply because it will bring me joy… and hopefully someone else, too.
