Prepared, Playful, and Paint-Splattered The Artsy Thistle Way

Friday marks the last day of February, and spring is just around the corner.

Not rushing in.

Not dramatic.

Just waiting patiently — the way nature does.

Around here, winter still has opinions. This week’s Tri-Board bus cancellations reminded me of that. In our rural area, buses start on winding side roads and secondary routes long before they ever reach town. By the time roads are clearer and better maintained, frustration sets in. But safety comes first. It always has.

And that thought brought me back.

Growing Up Prepared

I grew up in a time before apps and push notifications. We prepared the night before because we had this thing called a radio.

It played music in the morning, but what we were really listening for was the weather forecast — and bus cancellations — from Don Daynard on CKFM. Evenings meant the 6pm news after dinner. My mom rarely missed it. Lloyd Robertson delivered the headlines, and Dave Devall stood in front of the weather board writing everything backwards on glass like it was nothing short of magic.

Add in the newspaper my dad brought home from work, and by bedtime we had a pretty good idea what the next day might bring.

Context mattered too.

We were a single-car household through my elementary years and all of my French school years. Mom didn’t have desire to start driving. Dad worked shifts. If he wasn’t home — or was sleeping — that 40-minute drive to my French school simply wasn’t happening.

So you adapted.

Once my brother and I were old enough, we navigated Mississauga Transit — three transfers for 75 cents (for a nearly two hour trip). We sometimes arrived late, but we got there. And if Dad couldn’t pick us up? Those last transfers were often after sundown. So we brought our homework home for snow days. To get it done as quickly as possible just get the snow suit on and tackle the monstrous hills of snow the plows and snow blowers would leave that reached the tops of the light poles. We lived on a cul de sac, which meant we had Mount Everest in the middle of that circle. It was great for sliding. The boys were bullies. Announcing themselves the kings of the castle and throwing us off.

Preparation wasn’t dramatic. It was just normal.

Bringing That Mindset Into The Artsy Thistle

That early wiring still lives in me.

Before every Artsy Thistle event, I prepare carefully. Packing lists are written, rewritten, and checked again.

Supplies are packed strategically — especially when stairs are involved. Backups are included, not because I expect disaster, but because creativity thrives when people feel supported and unhurried.

Most nights, that preparation pays off beautifully.

Last night was one of those nights.

One easel tried to rebel — we had a spare.

My wider brushes challenged my fellow guest also named Lisa — noted for future upgrades (for for anyone named Lisa… we are enthusiastic painters so we need good strong brushes.)

We used some wildly creative anatomical terminology to describe the shape of flower petals — because apparently nothing bonds adults faster than collectively agreeing to “round out the upper section.”

And then came my favourite moment.

Finger Painting and Letting Go

We finger-painted the centres of our flowers.

Now, adults usually cling tightly to their paintbrushes. They feel safer. More controlled.

And don’t really desire getting their fingers dirty with paint.

But last night, something shifted.

Fingers dipped into paint.

Colour was pressed into canvas.

Laughter replaced hesitation.

They embraced it.

There is something powerful about grown adults giving themselves permission to play — to be tactile, imperfect, and bold. That moment, more than anything, reminded me why I do this.

The Artsy Thistle way isn’t about technical perfection.

It’s about creating a structured space where freedom feels safe.

The Very Human Ending

And yes — I spilled paint on myself.

If I leave an event spotless, something has gone terribly wrong.

But after the laughter and the cleanup came a very human twist:

Ross and I had planned to get a small bite to eat before exiting Napanee… I thought Ross had my wallet slip, he thought I had my wallet. Frustration setting in as he rummages through everything (the wagon, the boxes, the bags, bags within bags) in local McDonald Parking lot for the missing wallet slip with a 100lb Silver Lab poking his nose in everything he is trying to open. Paxil “thinks he is helping. The search through bags and boxes. The rising frustration. The tired voices.

Forget it. We are going home he announces!

We had planned to unload in the morning but now changed the plan to :”

We will unload the full unload of the car at home.” Which we did.

I in the basement… pulling everything apart…. Ross upstairs shouting “your drivers license is here”….

Only to discover it had been home the entire time.

Prepared for everything.

Except me.

And maybe that’s part of the lesson too.

What The Artsy Thistle Way Really Means

The Artsy Thistle is built on preparation — but it’s sustained by grace.

We prepare thoughtfully.

We bring backups.

We plan for contingencies.

But we also allow room for:

• Paint on sleeves

• Improvised terminology

• Finger-painted flower centres

• Laughter after tension

Because creativity — like spring — doesn’t respond to force.

It blooms when conditions feel right.

Spring is coming.

Winter is lingering.

And somewhere in between, adults are rediscovering joy with paint on their hands.

That’s the Artsy Thistle way.

Where creativity blooms — even when it gets a little messy.