
There is something about May mornings that feels stitched together with birdsong.
The windows are cracked open just enough for the cool air to drift inside, and before the coffee is ready, the robins have already begun their chorus. Goldfinches bounce between the garden stems like flecks of sunlight, and swallows cut through the sky in soft sweeping arcs. Spring does not truly arrive for me until the bird’s songs return.
My love of birds began long before I ever painted them.
When I was little, my dad taught me the names of the birds that visited our yard. He could point to the trees and identify them almost instantly—the cardinal, chickadee, goldfinch, nuthatch, blue jay. To me it felt like magic. Sitting quietly and watching them at the feeders somehow slows down time. Watching the way goldfinches change color through the seasons, how robins tug worms from the earth after rain, how swallows return to the same places year after year brings a rhythm when the world is out of balance.
It has become part of the rhythm of life. The feeders are always full. In winter, when snow piles high in Western New York, the birds gather outside his windows in bright little flashes of movement against the white landscape. In spring, they return with song and nests and the feeling that the world is waking back up again.



I think that is why birds find their way into so much of my artwork and paper designs. They carry memory for me. They remind me of quiet mornings, of learning to pay attention, of gentleness and home.
My newest pieces in the Floral & Plumage Collection were inspired by those memories of May mornings and garden birds. Tiny folded robins, goldfinches, and swallows unfold into hidden verses and florals tucked inside like little paper keepsakes from another century. They are part greeting card, part nature study, part love letter to spring.
I suppose every artist returns to the things that first taught them wonder.
For me, it was birds at the feeder outside my childhood window and a father who always remembers to scatter seed each day.
And every May, when the robins sing again, I remember the alchemy in everyday.
Elizabeth
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