Writer’s Notes,
03/04/26
“Every time you draw, cook, write, or arrange flowers—you soothe your mind. ”
This morning, I am at the familiar bistro table, second cup of coffee in hand, Jackie Gleason playing softly in the background. This morning feels like an autumn’s day—rain tapping against the shutters while a single lamp keeps me company. I can’t say I mind it. If anything, I am romanticising it. Because if you don’t romanticise life just a bit, what are you even doing?
This month’s quote feels less like inspiration and more like recognition. I’ve found myself returning to rhythms of less urgency and need to keep up. I once believed presence was measured by output. I don’t anymore.
I still feel the pull to create, to share but it comes from a different place now. What I share comes from within and not from what is being asked of me. We live in a cultural that is constantly telling us—what to do, how to do it, how often to do it. Always more. Always faster. Always visible.
And yet, I’m beginning to see it differently.
When we write, cook, read, mother—when we tend to the ordinary parts of our lives—we are being shaped by them, almost without noticing. We begin to understand ourselves in ways that cannot be measured or shared in real time. It changes us more than we think.
Creation, then, is no longer about the outcome. Not about what it becomes or how it is received—but about what it reveals. About the human side of it. And I know that it’s by the grace of God that I am drawn to the peace and presence of a slower way of living. There is depth to this kind of life that cannot be rushed and I’m no longer trying to.
What I share now feels more considered. More honest. More about expressing what is already shaping me. So I return to it—to creating, to tending, to living it as it comes.
To create gently. To live fully. To let it be enough.
On the calendar
Today marks the last day of school here in Greece before the two-week Easter break begins. We host family and friends every year on Easter Sunday and with all this rain we’ve been having, the outdoor preparations have felt slightly out of reach, small tasks lingering for the right moment. The weather is set to open next week, just in time for Holy Week, and I’m trusting there will be time to tend to it all.
In the in-between, I’ve been feeling the pull to reset other parts of life as well. Refreshing my closet, simplifying and shaping a wardrobe with pieces I always return to—denim, crisp whites, soft blacks, gold worn daily against the skin. With subtle shifts toward a palette I keep gravitating toward lately—peach, soft blues, palm green, buttery yellows and touches of a softer, more feminine style.
I think I’m at the point in my life where getting dressed feels different—it’s an elevated sentiment of stepping into an occasion and feeling put together. I want to move through it slowly, sharing the process as it unfolds.
The same goes for the home—small corners being cleared, cupboards sorted, a small kind of spring cleaning that quiets the mind as much as the space. I’ve come to realise how much clarity lives on the other side of putting things back into place.
After Easter, I find myself craving movement—day trips, seaside brunches, playing tourist in our own surroundings. Small escapes that break the routine—just enough to return to it differently.
Wishing you a gentle, beautiful month ahead—I’ll be sharing as it unfolds.
Demi