Finding the joy in making

Lately, my days have been filled with paper.

Not just any paper — envelopes, card stocks, samples, textures. I’ve been researching, ordering, testing. Comparing finishes. Holding sheets up to the light.

Deciding what feels right in the hand, not just what looks good on a screen.

With technology, so much can be done online. Designs can be mocked up in minutes, files sent across the vendors in seconds. And yet, the physical process still asks for patience.

Iterations. Waiting. Trying again. Nothing arrives perfect the first time — and perhaps that’s part of the point.

I smile every time a sample pack lands on the doormat. I open them with the same care and anticipation I remember feeling as a child receiving a letter from a distant pen pal — as if what’s inside might carry more than just paper. Possibility, maybe.

I sift through the samples slowly, setting aside the ones that feel right for The Quiet Bloom. The rest never go to waste. They find their way into my children’s hands — my daughter crafting , my son happily scribbling with his crayons. There’s something grounding about that too.

Nothing precious needs to be protected here; it just needs to be used.

Alongside this, I’ve been sketching again. Designing. Shortlisting courses. Returning to paints I bought from Cass Art in Kingston almost a decade ago. They’ve been sitting patiently, waiting. It makes me laugh — how we sometimes have everything we need long before we know what it’s for.

Work, of course, continues at full pace. Commutes on the tube where everyone seems to be sniffling, and I find myself holding my breath, hoping to dodge the next germ. Life is happening loudly, relentlessly, all around.

And yet — beneath it all — there’s this quiet spark.

A creative adventure that keeps me awake in the best way. After the children are asleep, I tiptoe back into the evening to finish what I didn’t get to earlier. A few more ideas, one or two sketch. One more decision. Another small step.

This is how The Quiet Bloom is being made. Slowly. With love. Growing quietly amid the fullness of an ordinary life.

Not everything needs to be rushed into existence. Some things are meant to be tended to — patiently, gently— until they’re ready to bloom.

Thank you for being here, in this in-between with me.

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