Invite Spring Into Your Home (Even in Winter) with Pussy Willows & Art

February in Michigan can test your patience.

Snow still falls.

Wind rattles the windows.

And the promise of spring feels far away.

When winter lingers too long, I do two small things inside my home.

I bring in branches that slowly bloom on the table.

And I surround myself with art that hints at spring.

Both remind me that seasons — like life — eventually change.

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Pussy Willows and a Memory

Years ago my husband’s Aunt Ruth sent me pussy willow branches from Iowa.

At 86 years old she marched across her frozen yard, clipped a few branches from her bush, wrapped them carefully, and mailed them six hours to our home in Holland.

A few days later we placed the branches in water and waited.

Slowly the small gray buds softened and opened.

Tiny signs of spring.

Even now when I see pussy willows, I think of Ruth — strong enough to face frozen ground and patient enough to trust what would bloom.

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Picking pussy willows in the snow

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Bring Branches Inside and Let Them Bloom

When winter gets too long, I still snip a few pussy willow branches and bring them indoors.

I simply place them in lukewarm water and set them near a window.

Within days the soft catkins appear.

It’s one of the easiest ways to invite the feeling of spring into your home.

Many flowering branches can be forced indoors as well:

• Forsythia

• Cherry

• Quince

• Lilac

Nature quietly reminds us that growth is already underway.

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Let Art Carry the Season

Sometimes I also bring spring into my home through art.

A painting with soft colors, flowers, or branches can instantly shift the feeling of a room.

One of my favorite pieces was inspired by those early pussy willow memories.

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A painting can carry the feeling of spring long before the season arrives.

Even a small piece of art can create a quiet reminder that warmer days are coming.

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A Small Pause

Every spring when I snip pussy willows, I think of Ruth.

After placing those first branches in water years ago, I let the roots grow and eventually planted them in my yard.

Today the bush is so large I can barely wrap my arms around it — much like my memories of Ruth and her big personality.

She was tenacious enough to march through frozen ground to clip those branches.

What she probably never realized is that a small gesture would keep blooming for decades. A 10% Shift that is now tradition.