I was standing inside a little garden in front of a centuries-old home in Berks County, PA, last week, FaceTiming my daughter.
As I showed her the scenery, she put words to what I’d been feeling: “You look like you’re Peter Rabbit in Mr. McGregor’s garden!”
That was it—that was the excitement; the magic; the adventure I’d been feeling since I’d stepped foot there that morning.
Beatrix Potter’s classic was read to me when I was little, then read to my children when they were little, who now read it to theirs.
The story of Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter has always stuck with me, because despite there being three sisters, it was always Peter I resonated with. I saw myself in his appetite for adventure, his willingness to try new things and take risks, and his innate nature to go against the grain. (I even lost a blue jacket when I was little, but I digress.)
So it was with that childlike, adventurous, and curious spirit that I embarked upon my painting that day, a day filled with magic and joy.
And it was one of just six days spent in Berks County, where I was one of 30 artists from across the country selected to paint in Plein Air West Reading, sponsored by Art Plus Gallery.
Each day, I had a picture in my mind of what I wanted to paint, so I’d jump in my mobile studio (my car, of course), and head out to find it. One day, I wanted to paint cows, so I found the best farmland in the county, drove up to the house, and asked if I could paint their livestock.
A young girl, probably about 16, excitedly brought a cow, clearly one of her prized possessions, out to the field for me, and I ended up making a day of it, even being invited in for lunch with her parents and grandparents.
It was a week of freedom to paint whatever I wanted—covered bridges, cows and farmland, historic buildings, and quaint towns. A week to reconnect with nature in a new place. And a week to experience kindness, generosity, and connection with both new and old acquaintances.
It was being an artist, at its best.
By Friday at noon, we had to have our paintings framed and hung for the judge, then we reconvened in the evening for the opening with donors, hosts, and VIPs. When they called my name as the winner of the America 250 Award I was shocked, giddy, and filled with unfiltered joy.
The next day, they moved the artwork outdoors for a huge public art festival, with music, food, and art everywhere. It was truly magical.
As I write this, back on my porch in my home in the Finger Lakes, a little rabbit is exploring in my flower garden, and I’m back to reflecting on Peter.
I used to admire his appetite for adventure as his bravest act—slipping under that fence, going where he wasn’t supposed to. But sitting on my porch now, watching this little rabbit wander my flower bed looking for a treat, I think the brave part wasn’t just his action; it was his belief that the desire he had was worth following.
Every risk I took this past week, from knocking on a stranger’s door to rooming with a host family to putting my work in front of a jury, got met with more than I could’ve expected. And I can honestly say my appetite for adventure paid off.
So take it from Peter (and me): Seeking adventure isn’t about being mischievous. It’s about committing to what you want, and finding out that it’s worth chasing.