Late last summer, a web search for something else turned up the crafting idea for using fall leaves to make leaf bowls https://thinlyspread.co.uk/how-to-make-a-leaf-bowl/

I was so enamored with the photography, that I was convinced I could create my own masterpieces. I patiently waited until the leaves turned color and then hunted up lovely samples. I came to find that I had precious few trees on my own property that a seemed good enough or proper for the project; too big or too spotty or just turning brown almost immediately from green. So I took leaves from neighbors and even the Costco parking lot. Put them into books (finally have a use for our 2 full sets of 1960s encyclopedias) to flatten and dry. When I felt I finally had enough leaves, I pulled out my Elmer’s glue, several bowls and got to work.

Here’s what not mentioned in the prior link about making these. Really stiff leaves will not hold their shape. Ever. The lovely lacy maple leaves are much too fragile to handle this treatment. Most of the golden vibrant color of the leaves is lost in the process until you hold it up to a light in a window for instance — and take a portrait mode photo with your iPhone… just saying… What you get in real life versus what’s photographed may not meet your expectations. Colors become quite muted.

If I were to do this again, I’d search for an even deeper bowl. I didn’t own anything like what the tutorial mentioned. I’d also seek out ways to soak the leaves in glycerin to preserve leaf color and get them flexible right out of the gate. I’m glad I tried it this year, and will have to wait until next fall to see if I get the itch to try again.

As 2025 comes to a close and 2026 begins, I like to take a brief pause to reflect on the year behind me. The years seem to fly by, and I often have to remind myself how much was actually accomplished—and that it’s perfectly fine to be tired at the end of the day.

By the numbers: we collected 3,206 eggs, planted 327 plants, and tucked 2,600 bulbs into the ground.

Believing that learning something new every day helps keep you young, I was especially pleased with the variety of horticultural, baking, art, and general-interest classes I managed to fit in. And knowing that giving back is what helps keep the world a better place, I focused my volunteer energy close to home – hosting neighborhood events, supporting neighbors in need, and, of course, spending many hours serving on the HOA board.

Looking ahead, the calendar is already filling up. I’m signed up for four months of Master Gardener classes held every other Friday. After discovering how much I enjoyed glass fusing last year, I’ll be returning for another class in February. Along the same lines of doing what I love most, I’ve also enrolled in another baking class at the King Arthur School, where we’ll be learning to make pithiviers and palmiers – beautiful French pastries.

I also loved experimenting with resin and may tackle another project if the opportunity arises. The blacksmith class was a lot of fun and is something I’d happily repeat, though I also have my eye on a welding class.

I’m committed to another two years on the HOA board, which I know will continue to demand a significant amount of time – so that’s volunteer work well accounted for. I’ve also signed up for all the library’s craft classes and will keep an eye out for their educational offerings as they pop up.

And then there’s the garden. I’m already dreaming about 2026. Last fall’s bulb planting, set to bloom this spring, makes me think it may be time to host another neighborhood garden tour early in the year. The greenhouse is full, with plants being kept just warm enough to make it through winter. A shipment of specialty plants is waiting in the shed for their permanent home, and plans are underway for a new pumpkin and sunflower patch in the back pasture – safely out of reach of the goats.

My wish for 2026 is a year rich in learning, generous in spirit, and full of moments that remind us that curiosity keeps us young and kindness makes the world better.

In 2025, I rarely missed a third Wednesday at our local library, where I’ve become a regular at their craft classes. Every session was a delight – full of laughter, encouragement, and easy camaraderie. My favorite projects were the salt paintings and the temporary tattoos, but the class that sparked the most laughter was, unexpectedly, origami. Despite the instructor’s best efforts, not one of us managed to follow along well enough to recreate what was being demonstrated. A small, steady group shows up month after month, and we’ve bonded over our shared triumphs and mishaps. That sense of connection has been just as rewarding as the crafts themselves.