Every day, on my early morning walk, there is an intense smell of flowers—white and joyful, part of a dark green bush, peeking out from a little park, as if they are trying to make me stop and smell them. So that's what I do: I stop and smell them. Every morning.
I don’t take photos on my morning walks; mornings deserve peace and light—bright or grim, but light nevertheless. And the smell of the first spring flowers. Further down the street there are intensely pink trees—cherries, I would say—and they are making this calm suburban street burst into a color. Purple irises are behind me. My senses are at that point of my walk fully awakened: the warmth of the sun is on my face, the smell of the flowers is in my lungs, I hear a robin singing and a train passing down on the tracks and the forms and colors are being noticed everywhere around me. Step after step, I quickly reach my home—it's only a 10-minute walk, after all—my breakfast, and my coffee. Spring always makes me feel dreamy and melancholic, but nature—even amidst the concrete and stone homes—reminds me that yes, I am here now. And that - that is the only certain thing.
A new season of book covers has begun—I always draw so many more of them in all other seasons except winter. Winter is for inside explorations. This year, I will reach the milestone of designing 50 published book covers, and I am pondering how to celebrate that little jubilee. As I warm up—along with the weather and the new book scripts coming my way—I recently completed a wonderful project: I was invited to create a map for a book set in Paris. A couple of years ago, I created a map for this book here, and this time I am creating one for a New York Times Bestseller! I can't reveal much until it's finished, but the book revolves around Paris, WW2, and the magic of reading; the map is dreamy, inviting, and inspired by the spring tones that we see every day around us. In Paris and elsewhere, just keep an eye open.
After a few weekends away (Novi Sad and Le Havre - which will get their own newsletters at some point), I finally had a chance to go out and roam around Paris last Saturday. We had pizza at Agata—I enjoyed the interior a lot, the pizza was okay. Then we had coffee at Hexagone, recommended to us by a coffee shop owner in Le Havre. We cut through the Montparnasse cemetery (I should probably make a map of it) and saw the tomb of Jacques Chirac before finally reaching the Luxembourg Garden. It was crowded with kids, pigeons, ponies, lovers, petanque players, and people just soaking up the sun. I didn’t mind the crowd; I was checking to see if the bees were awake from their winter slumber (there are beehives in the southwest corner of the park) and taking photos of the chairs. A LOT OF CHAIRS.
My friend Sun is having her first exhibition on April 4th, and I'm excited to go and see her lamps. She gifted me porcelain cups a couple of months ago, I might have mentioned this already—I'm absolutely mesmerized by them. They are elegant, wonderful to touch, and I love drinking my tea creations from them. Right now, my go-to tea mix is calendula, dandelion root, nettle, and rosemary.
On Sunday, I cleaned out my spring tea cabinet, and now I have one shelf for individual plants and another for tea mixes. Shockingly, I threw some things out too. Spring cleaning inside and out.
My watercolor workshop is happening this afternoon—it's the second one this week—and I am excited to show some creative exercises. I find them very satisfying and inspiring, as they provide a good foundation for beginners in watercolor and encourage seasoned watercolorists to try new things. FUN! It's all about creativity. And yes, there will be wine.
Yesterday—almost symbolically at the very beginning of spring—I finished reading a book called 'Wintering.' I loved everything about it, and I will definitely read or listen to it again next winter. It made me feel present, calm, and less lonely. For my friends entering the cold months now in the southern hemisphere, I cannot recommend it enough.
If you are on my side of the world, I recommend (again) Michael Pollan’s 'Second Nature.' I read it every spring, although my garden is limited to just two window sill boxes.
I have a couple of exciting things to share with you in the next few weeks, including the Substack anniversary! I would love to hear what you would like me to write more about in the coming year.
Thank you for being here. It means A LOT.
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Merci!