A brush with destiny (sort of)...

This all started one day when I was getting very annoyed with the trees I was trying to paint.

They sucked... sort of.

Not awful, but definitely not what I had in mind.

So, like any self-respecting artist in distress, I turned to the place where all great art crises are solved — YouTube.

Yup. The rabbit hole.

Or should I say warren?

The one where you go looking for a simple “how to paint trees” video and, several days later, crawl out blinking into daylight, covered in cookie crumbs, and existential dread.

But! I did find what I was looking for — someone painting trees the way I wanted to. Or at least, wanted-ISH.

He used a fan brush.

Of course he did.

Ugh. Fan brushes and I have a history. They never seem to hold paint properly, always splaying out like they’ve just come back from a humid vacation. Still, I tried what he did with the ones I had. And — quelle surprise! — it didn’t work.

At all.

So naturally, I did what any mature artist would do: I complained to my friend and mentor — hi, Roberta! — via FaceTime. (She got the full dramatic retelling with jazz hands... probably.)

Now, Roberta knows all the great places to buy art supplies. Honestly, she should get a referral code. She directed me to an online shop that sells handmade brushes — made by actual people whom, I assume, take vows of loyalty to the gods of bristle alignment.

When I had the chance (immediately following our FT, obs), I typed in the magic address and promptly fell into another rabbit hole. (Apparently, this is also my new thing.)

I ordered a fan brush first (and possibly a couple of other intriguing brushes?... maybe?) — hoping they’d be better than the floppy disappointments I already owned. And when they arrived… well! They actually held paint, kept their shape, and did what fan brushes are supposed to do. Suddenly, those cedars and firs were starting to look like they belonged in a forest instead of a bad dream.

Then, whilst browsing (again — for research purposes, of course), I came across two brushes I’d never even heard of: the dagger brush and the sword liner.

I mean, come on! With names like that, how could I not buy them? They sounded like they could conquer any substrate and possibly defend a small village.

Fan, dagger, and sword liner...small but mighty. Join me in my obsession and check out www.rosemaryandco.com. No, I don't receive anything for the referral...dammit.

I knew I had to have them.

And when they arrived? Well. Cue the choir of angels! I was not disappointed. For the first time, the trees looked like my trees — not just decent ones, but expressive, alive, and maybe just a titch whimsical.

Turns out it wasn’t me after all. It was the tools. Or maybe me and the tools, finally speaking the same swoopy language.

Of course, this discovery has triggered what can only be described as a brush-related situation. One I thought I had under control... but alas.

You know, some people collect shoes or teacups or cars — I collect bristles. I tell myself it’s all in the name of artistic growth, but really, it’s an obsession with excellent craftsmanship and very seductive product photos.

The sword and dagger brushes were from my second order. And as I write this, there’s a third order sitting in my online cart, whispering, “You know you need us...”

But here’s the thing: every new brush teaches me something — about texture, control, patience, and the art of letting go.

Especially with trees. You can’t force a cedar to swoop.

You just have to let it.

So yes. Maybe it’s an obsession. But at least it’s one with excellent bristles.

That’s it for now — just me and Buddy, proving that art, hugs, and treats are all part of the creative process.