There’s something sacred about the first cup of coffee in the morning. Not just the caffeine boost—though, let’s be honest, that’s a non-negotiable some days—but the ritual itself. The waiting, the pouring, the savoring. In our house, coffee isn’t just something we drink. It’s something we do.

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Our Morning Practice

It starts with the beans. Every two weeks, my husband roasts them on the grill—a practice that not only saves us money but ensures the freshest cup possible. It’s a labor of love, and one I’ve come to deeply appreciate.

The process continues before we even wake. Our kettle is set on a timer, heating the water as we slowly come back to the world of the living. There’s no mindless button-pressing here to get the coffee started. We ground the beans and fill our carafe and slowly pour the hot water in creating a coffee bloom (when the grounds expand and make a mushroom effect) This whole process forces us to be present, and start the day slowly.

Then, there’s the “cloud of milk” (as the French say), swirling into the dark coffee like morning fog lifting from your mind. And finally, the first sip: rich, warm, almost like a cup of hot chocolate without the overly sweet sensations. A grounding moment before the day begins.

Slowing Down with Each Sip

This isn’t a rush-to-the-coffee-pot situation. This is a daily meditation. A few minutes to notice the light filtering in through the windows as the coffee drips, listening for the birds starting their morning chatter as you pour in a little more water, and the warmth of the cup in my hands, when it’s finally brewed and ready to be savored.

It’s so easy to barrel through life without noticing these small moments of beauty. But our morning coffee rituals demand patience. It forces slowness. And in that slowness, we find presence.

Motherhood and Coffee

I didn’t start drinking coffee until our first morning with a newborn. After labor, after that first night of waking up over and over again, my body craved it. And let me tell you—that first cup? The best I’ve ever had.

I’m a year into motherhood now, and I could probably switch back to just tea. But in those early days, coffee felt like a rite of passage. Like some unspoken initiation into matrescence, the transition into motherhood.

That’s what my painting of a mother with her morning coffee captures: that quiet, sacred moment. Her child plays at her feet as she gazes out the window, cup in hand, savoring the slowness before the chaos of the day begins.

The Art of Coffee Mug Shots

I’ve started sketching my coffee in the mornings, a practice I call “Mug Shots.” Mostly, I’m capturing our favorite mugs in mini polaroid paintings. It’s just another way to be present—to really see the ritual instead of rushing through it. A way to document the slowness, the warmth, the everyday beauty of this small but meaningful practice.

Anything Can Be Art

Throughout this series “The Art of….” I’m revealing that everyday experiences and practices can be an art form. The Japanese knew this in their tea ceremonies and similarly your morning cup of joe can be a ritual, an action with intention and therefore, art.

Find the featured print of this post, Motherhood: Coffee, here