Midwinter Thaw

This card arrived quietly, somewhere between frost and movement.

The garden still looks bare at first glance, but when I slow down and really look, there are signs everywhere. Buds forming on branches. Bulbs I planted back in autumn pushing up their first small green shoots. A reminder that what looked still was never dead — it was resting, waiting.

I’ve been refilling the bird feeders daily and watching who comes to visit. A robin appears most mornings now, steady and familiar. These small returns feel like messages: life hasn’t stopped, it’s just been working underground.

Visually, this card was inspired by Trouble for Trumpets by Peter Cross — a book I’ve written about before and one I return to often. I love its cut-away worlds, where you’re invited to look beneath the surface and notice the quiet work happening out of sight. It feels especially fitting here: a reminder that roots grow, systems mend, and life prepares itself long before anything is visible above ground.
(You can read more about my love of Trouble for Trumpets here)

I sketched the bulb first, thinking about how everything it needs is already there, held safely inside. The roots, the shoot, the future flower — all present, even now. I worked the final card using watercolour pencils, building earthy layers in the soil and softer blues in the sky, then added white pen to pick out roots, frost, and small points of light.

This card feels like a hinge moment between endurance and emergence. Not spring yet — but no longer only winter.

Intention

To notice signs of return and trust that what rested was never lost.

Practice

Spend time noticing what is beginning to emerge.
Look for buds and shoots pushing through the frost.
Refill the bird feeders and watch who comes to visit.
Let these small signs remind you that rest is not the same as being gone.

Words:
Endurance · Rest · Return