Hosting a retreat is like holding your breath and exhaling at the same time. It fills you up and leaves you wide open. And this last one, here at our home in Victoria, left something golden in its wake.
It was one of those rare weeks where everything just clicked. Not because it was seamless (oh dear, no), but because it was true. People showed up exactly as they were—ready, willing, raw, and up for every little bit of what we had in store.
These retreats are a mix of all the good things that nourish the creative soul—thoughtfully prepared food, a few simple painting techniques, beautiful music, and space to let go. They offer a chance to remember that making art doesn’t have to be precious, it just has to be yours.
Luckily, there were moments when I found myself standing alone, unnoticed, just taking it all in. I’d see someone light up at their first bold brushstroke, eyes wide with delight. I’d catch the quiet kindness in one guest encouraging another. Someone would be sitting silently, brush in hand, letting the next part come through. I’d hear laughter erupt from the kitchen, and catch the sweet smell of something grilling. I’d watch as the table was lovingly set with fresh linens and wine glasses. Small things, maybe. But they all held a bit of magic.
From that quiet edge of things, I saw the potent magic of gathering and collective creativity. I saw people feeling whole and rediscovering their spark. Through colour, through mess, through making. I saw them giving themselves permission to get it wrong, to try again, to not know, to let it be easy. I saw sparks. I saw connection blooming between strangers. Honesty and courage showing up in all kinds of beautiful ways. I saw love.
That’s the part I’m holding on to.
To our guests—you brave, bright souls who came with open hearts and willing hands—you brought the colour. You shared your stories, your tears, your humour, and your wild, rad courage. You painted with abandon. You nestled in. You breathed deep. You listened, held space, and showed up for one another in a way that made the whole week feel sacred.
You reminded me, once again, why I do this.
And behind it all was my cherished team….
Rachel and Alice were in the kitchen. making the kind of food that doesn’t just feed you, it restores you. Always moving, always laughing (and yes, bickering too) through the steam and the clatter. Sue arrived with armfuls of flowers from her garden that filled our rooms with beauty, and floated between spaces and conversations like a butterfly. She had a gentle hand on everything and everyone. My brother Rob and Dad helped prepare the gardens in the weeks leading up, mowing lawns and hauling mulch. And last but not least, Pete—never centre stage, but absolutely everything unfolds, because he’s there.
Thanks to every one of you. I may lead the retreat, but you all carry it.
And to you, my followers, thank you for cheering me on and for reading this, wherever you are. Truly. You are part of this, too.
It’s not a solo act. It’s a symphony.
Love, Laura xo