September Skies, New Beginnings.
The Pause Between Seasons
There is something about the end of September that feels like a pause between breaths. The sky holds that piercing blue, clean and endless, the kind of blue you only see when the air has cooled but the sun still lingers with warmth. The trees stretch their green leaves as if reaching a little farther, poking into the sky as though they know their time is short. Soon they will turn. Soon they will let go. But not yet.
“Soon they will turn. Soon they will let go. But not yet.”
Roots, Storms, and Growth
That moment, the cusp before change, is what I carry when I look back on where we started and forward to where we are going. Our first studio was like those early leaves, fresh and full of energy, clinging tight to the branch. We did not know how far we would reach or what storms would come. We only knew the light was good, the soil was strong, and the roots we were putting down would matter.
Growth is never clean or linear. It twists like branches in the wind, bends under weight, and straightens again when the pressure lifts. Opening a second location was like the first turn of the season, the first leaf shifting color. A hint of what was possible. By the time we reached three, four, five studios, the canopy had grown thick, casting shade and shelter for a community that gathered underneath. What was once small and fragile became something sturdy, something people could lean on.
Nature has always guided how we design our spaces. At our newest location, cattails stand tall at the edge of the property, swaying with the breeze, rooted deep in the earth while moving gracefully with the air. They remind us of balance, how strength and flexibility exist together. Inside each studio, the wings painted across the walls carry their own message. We are meant to rise. To expand. To remember that even as we root deeply, we are also called to lift off. Those wings span across all five spaces in four locations, tying us together in a quiet but powerful way, a reminder that what we are building is both grounded and unbound.
“We are meant to rise. To expand. To remember that even as we root deeply, we are also called to lift off.”
And now, standing under this September sky, I see that our story mirrors the trees. Each year they repeat the cycle, but each year it is different. Each season is familiar, yet new. We too have changed. We too have let go of things that no longer served. We too have stretched upward, reaching beyond what we once thought was possible.
The sun warms my shoulders as I write this, and I think about how light always returns. No matter the storms, no matter the shedding, the light finds its way back. That is how I know we are still only at the beginning of this journey. The clear sky above reminds me of our clarity of purpose. The green leaves remind me of the growth still happening right now, in this exact moment. And the knowing of autumn reminds me to welcome change, because change is proof of life.
“Change is proof of life.”
This season, as the air cools and the colors blaze, I hope you feel the same sense of belonging and renewal we feel. That you know you are part of something rooted and alive. That you sense the reach of our branches is not finished. And that, together, we will keep turning toward the light.