Yesterday, I was walking through the park, bundled up in my sweater, coat, and gloves. Tea in one hand, scone in the other. The ground was still covered in piles of snow and sheets of ice—a reminder that winter isn’t letting up just yet.
Right now, we’re in the thick of it—that in-between stretch where the holidays feel like a distant memory, and spring still seems just out of reach. I’m restless. I want to shed layers, wear color, and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin again. I want ease. I want momentum. I want winter to be over already.
And yet, I know that this impatience is a cue to slow down. To sit with the discomfort. To remember that even this moment—this cold, sluggish season—is valuable and fleeting. Because winter is for sowing the seeds of spring. The work we put in today is what we’ll reap months from now. And in a world that expects instant results, understanding how long it actually takes for something to bloom is the key to an enduring creative life.
As a designer, I’ve learned this lesson well. Nothing I create today comes to life overnight—each collection is months in the making. The state of my business right now isn’t the result of yesterday’s work; it’s the product of what I was building six months ago.
When we stop seeing winter as an obstacle and start recognizing it as preparation, today becomes an invitation to begin—rather than a burden to muddle through.