Quiet Return to Light: A March Reflection
““In March winter is holding back and spring is pulling forward. Something holds and something pulls inside of us too.” ”
- Jean Hersey
The In-Between Season
March, 2026
March is the soft shift between rest and readiness, a quiet return to light, carried with gentle intention. It isn’t dramatic. Much of the landscape is still subdued, but the first signs have begun to appear. Snowdrops lingering. Hellebores holding steady. Daffodils and crocus quietly lifting their heads.
Not everything is in bloom.
But it’s just enough to signal that something is stirring.
The mornings arrive a little brighter now. The air feels different, anticipating. It’s the in-between season - not quite winter, not fully spring, but unmistakably a moment of turning.
There’s often a temptation at this point to rush ahead. To treat the shift in light as a call for overhaul and urgency. But nature doesn’t move that way. It prepares quietly. It gathers strength beneath the surface. Growth begins long before it becomes obvious. March invites that same steady pace.
It's a soft lean toward what’s next without forcing it.
A Gentle Shift
And in that leaning, the shift begins to show up at home
Windows are opened despite the chill.
Air moves through a room, quietly revitalising.
Cosy corners that wrapped us through winter are gently reimagined.
The outside is slowly welcomed in.
It’s not a full reset - just gentle shift
There’s something about this time of year that invites a quieter kind of clarity. A willingness to look at a space and ask what still feels right and what might need softening, shifting, or gently lifting. It isn’t about replacing everything.
It’s about noticing what’s working with the new light the new energy
Sometimes that means clearing. Sometimes it means reconnecting - with people, with places, with the pieces that make a home feel lived in and personal.
As the season begins to turn outward, so do we. There’s a gradual return to stepping beyond our own four walls, and equally to inviting people in. And with that comes a renewed awareness of how our homes feel. How they hold us. How they reflect us. How they restore us.
Often, it’s just one considered addition that changes the atmosphere entirely. A piece of artwork that draws the eye. Something that brings nature back inside and re-connects us to it. Something that catches the new light differently.
Beyond the Studio
For me, it’s also a season of reconnecting - with people, with places, with the parts of my work that live beyond the studio. As events begin again, there’s that gentle outward step. A reminder that the work doesn’t fully come alive until it leaves the drawing table.
Seeing it in someone else’s hands, in a different light, against a different wall - that’s when it settles into its place.
It’s often the smallest addition that shifts a room. Not a transformation, just a quiet lift. A sense that the space is stretching into the new season along with you.
Just enough to let the light in.
