It’s March 6th.
I meant to write to you in February. I had this whole reflection planned about patience, preparation and winter slowness.
But February had other ideas. It was cold, windy and quiet and I spent most of it just… doing the work. Photographing. Sourcing. Thinking. Preparing.
And now it’s March, and here I am, finally sitting down to tell you what I’ve been noticing.
WHAT FEBRUARY ACTUALLY TAUGHT ME
I thought February would teach me patience.
It did. But not the way I expected.
Patience isn’t waiting gracefully. It’s showing up on the days when no one else does. Opening the shipping container when it’s -15 and the wind is brutal and you know maybe two people will walk through the door.
It’s saying no to pieces that are “fine” because you’re waiting for pieces that are EXCEPTIONAL.
It’s trusting that the work you’re doing in the quiet—the photographing, the writing, the relationships you’re building —will matter when the season turns.
February didn’t feel patient. It felt like stubbornness.
But maybe that’s what patience actually is.
WHAT MARCH IS ALREADY SHOWING ME
The light changed this week.
It’s still cold. The ground is still frozen. But the light is different—less blue, more pink. It’s subtle. Most people wouldn’t notice. But I notice everything. (I see the details that others miss.)
And the preparation I did in February? That’s what’s going to carry me through.
WHAT I’M THINKING ABOUT NOW
I’ve been moving pieces around the shop all week.
Not because anything is wrong. Just because I’m seeing them differently now. The same light that looked dramatic against February snow looks entirely different in early March light.
Context changes everything.
That’s what vintage has been teaching me: an object isn’t just itself. It’s itself + the light + the season + the person looking at it + the story they need it to tell.
Right now, in early March, I’m seeing these pieces through the lens of TRANSITION.
We’re not in winter anymore. But we’re not in spring yet either.
We’re in the in-between. The thaw. The messy middle.
And some pieces are perfect for exactly that.
WHAT’S COMING
I don’t have an ultra detailed plan for March.
I know the tourist season is coming (even though that still feels far away when the temperature is hovering around zero).
I know I need to keep preparing. Keep photographing. Keep building.
But mostly? I’m just watching the light change and trusting that I’ll know what to do when the moment arrives.
That’s what February taught me. You can’t always plan patience. Sometimes you just have to practice it.
IF YOU’RE ALSO IN THE IN-BETWEEN
Maybe you’re also in early March wondering where February went.
Maybe you’re also in transition—between seasons, between versions of yourself, between what was and what’s coming.
Maybe you’re also learning that preparation doesn’t always feel productive. Sometimes it just feels like showing up.
This is your reminder:
The work you’re doing in the quiet counts.
Discernment is more valuable than volume.
Trust is built in the in-between.
Recent Comments