One of the things I love most about Son de Flor is that every now and then, completely unexpectedly, someone from our community reminds me why we do what we do. Not through a purchase, a review, or even a photograph, but through the way they see the world and the quiet wisdom they carry within them.

A few weeks ago, I received an email from Evie, a member of our community from the Netherlands. Attached to her message was a series of handmade textile collages created from Son de Flor fabric scraps. At first glance, they were simply beautiful. The colours were thoughtful, the compositions delicate, and there was something quietly poetic about them. Yet the longer I looked, the more I realised I was looking at something much bigger than a craft project.

Evie had created a card for every month of the year. Not a calendar, not an illustration, but a feeling, a mood - an interpretation of what January feels like, what April feels like, what September feels like.

Suddenly, I found myself wondering something I had never considered before. If months had personalities, what would they be? Would January really be grey and dull, as we often describe it, or would it be textured, subtle, and full of details we overlook because we are already longing for spring? Would November truly be gloomy, or simply misunderstood?

The more I looked at Evie's work, the more I realised that she wasn't really creating collages about months. She was creating collages about attention. About noticing and finding beauty in places we have stopped looking.

As our conversation unfolded through emails, I discovered that the same philosophy runs through her life. What began as a simple feature about a creative project soon became a conversation about healing, chronic illness, beauty, perfectionism, colors, nature, and the surprisingly radical act of appreciating the season you are in.

I am so grateful Evie agreed to share her story with us. I have a feeling many of you will recognise something of yourselves in her words!

— Could you tell us a little about yourself and the story behind your project? How did it begin?

My name is Evie. I live in a village near Arnhem in the Netherlands, together with my husband Jelle and our free-roaming rabbits, Guus and Pip. I am 34 now, and the past eight years of my life can be described as a chaotic mess involving a burnout while working at the university, being hospitalised for acute leukemia and recovering from it, a very brief career switch to data science, falling ill again, and discovering that I have severe chronic fatigue syndrome.

Despite it being hard, I can now also see my struggles as a gift from the Universe. A gift I accepted as gracefully as I could.

Last year, I discovered that painting, making collages, writing stories and poems, and creating beautiful things fill me with a passion I didn't know I had. I discovered at last who I am, deep down: an artist, a maker, someone who feels a lot and needs to express it. At last, things feel right.

— Was there a particular moment that inspired the Month Cards?

Last year, I started collecting your lovely scraps for DIY because I loved the fact that they matched some of the garments I already had from Son de Flor. I decorated my diary with them and noticed how beautiful certain fabrics looked together. Then a question arose in my head: would a card representing Christmas look the same as a card representing December? Of course not. And if December had its own feeling, what about January?

Before long, I wanted to create the entire year.

I found it fascinating to think about what a month feels like and why. Words are often not enough, I find. It would be so helpful if I could also use colours, textures, scents, and other things alongside words. Fabric is ideal for this. Apart from its literal colour, it can be soft, coarse, sheer, sturdy, textured, or patterned.

— Your work feels deeply thoughtful and gentle. What values or feelings do you hope people experience when they encounter it?

For my Month Cards, I hope people recognise that in every month there is something beautiful. Year-round, I often hear people complaining about the time of year, and I think it is a pity. For January, for instance, my card is quite colourless, with some coldness and little warmth. But if you look more closely, you can see that the white has a beautiful texture, or that there is actually a lot of colour to be found in the floral pattern.

Just like in nature, where there is still beauty to be found: ice crystals, moss, bark, bright berries, and beautiful sunsets. The same holds for daily life: a nice conversation, a delicious meal, a hug from a friend.

If you take the time to look, there is plenty of beauty to be found in every month. Every month was a little design project on its own. What fascinated me was that when I put all the months in order, I saw that they were all connected, that one flowed naturally into the next, and that together they formed a cycle. I find the idea of a cycle very comforting.

"If you take the time to look, there is plenty of beauty to be found in every month."

Reading that sentence, I realised that perhaps the Month Cards are not really about months at all. They are about attention. About slowing down long enough to notice what is already there.

— What role does beauty play in your life?

A big role. I cannot help but say that I have become quite good at recognising beauty in little things, and that is a gift too. It enriches my life. Such a pity I had little eye for it in the past.

— Has living with chronic illness changed the way you see creativity, time, or what truly matters?

Oh, absolutely. That's the thing with adversity. If you allow yourself to feel what there is to feel, reflect, and sometimes take a step back, then there is so much to learn. 

I used to think that the job, task, expectation, or another person in need was always more important than my own health. Now I know, and feel deep down, that one first needs a strong foundation before one can really be there for others. For this, one needs a healthy dose of dignity, self-respect, and self-love. With 'a healthy dose' I don't mean selfishness or narcissism, but rather treating yourself like you would treat your best friend.

As for creativity, I learned that perfectionism is the enemy of the free flowing of new ideas. It locks you up in the cage of 'it has to be this' and takes the joy out of creating beautiful things. I have a note saying NO MASTERPIECING hanging above my desk because I still need the reminder sometimes.

— Are there books, rituals, or small moments that bring you comfort?

"The Myth of Normal' by Gabor Maté has been enormously helpful.  I also unexpectedly discovered that my childhood teddy bear, Björn, still has exactly the same comforting power it had when I was little. Daily relaxation sessions on our acupressure mat are wonderful. And I love having deep conversations with loved ones about our experiences of being human. Doing something with my fabric scraps always makes me feel at peace and happy.

— What does a beautiful, meaningful life look like to you these days?

Every day, I try to be in touch with a loved one and go outside. We live at the edge of the woods, and I simply love seeing the little things in nature evolve throughout the year. Our two rabbits provide us with a good deal of entertainment and wisdom. And every day, I try to make something beautiful, however small. You know, the Son de Flor motto, 'I'm going to make everything around me beautiful. That will be my life,' is also my personal philosophy, but in order not to commit plagiarism, I will have to think of a different way to say it.

— What are you dreaming of, gently, for the future?

I have many dreams. I would love to cycle again, take long walks in nature, spend entire afternoons reading books, and attend family gatherings without worrying about my energy. I would love to learn the cello, dance, take a course in drawing people, and finally learn to sew so I can move beyond scissors-and-glue level with my Son de Flor scraps. And on a broader level, I would love to become active in my local community. One idea that keeps returning is creating art projects together with people experiencing homelessness.

I am very hopeful about the future. My energy is slowly rising, and for a few months, I can already do things again that weren't possible last year. So who knows how many dreams will come true?

— And because we are Son de Flor and cannot help ourselves, what role do clothing, linen, or natural fabrics play in your life?

If you looked inside my wardrobe, you would have trouble finding anything made from synthetic fibres. I absolutely love wearing beautiful clothes, especially good-quality romantic clothing that carries a feeling of times gone by. Choosing my clothes each morning is a daily source of joy. They feel like a second skin to me, almost like plumage. And somehow it simply wouldn't feel right if they were synthetic. One cannot be part of nature and at the same time wear plastic clothing, in my view.

— Is there anything you would love people to know that I didn't ask?

Actually, yes. I would love to say a few words about my relationship with colours. To me, colours are not simply visual properties. They are almost like social creatures. Each colour has a personality of its own. Some colours become friends and enhance one another. Others seem to bully one another, taking away vibrancy and making the neighbouring colour look dull. And the more colours there are together, the more of these interactions I see. Isn't that cool?

A Few Final Thoughts

After reading Evie's answers several times, I found myself returning to her observation about the months. She told me that although she designed each one independently, once she placed them next to one another, she could see that they naturally flowed from one into the next. Together, they formed a cycle. I keep thinking about that image because it feels true not only for months, but for life itself.

There are seasons when we are growing, seasons when we are creating, seasons when we are caring for others, and seasons when we are healing. There are seasons when we feel full of energy and possibility, and seasons when simply making it through the day requires all the courage we have. Yet we rarely extend the same kindness to ourselves that we extend to nature.

We accept that trees need winter. We accept that fields lie dormant. We accept that flowers bloom and fade and bloom again. But when it comes to our own lives, we often expect constant productivity, constant growth, and constant certainty.

Perhaps that is why Evie's project touched me so deeply.

Her Month Cards gently remind us that every season carries its own kind of beauty, even the ones we would not have chosen for ourselves. And perhaps her story reminds us of something equally important: creativity does not always emerge despite difficulty. Sometimes it emerges because of it. Sometimes our most challenging seasons teach us how to see more clearly, notice more deeply, and appreciate what was quietly there all along.

Thank you, Evie, for sharing your art, your story, and your way of seeing the world with us. And thank you for reminding us that beauty is not reserved for spring, for health, for youth, or for life's easiest chapters. It is available in January. It is available in recovery. It is available in a conversation with a friend, a rabbit in the garden, a fabric scrap waiting to become something new, and a quiet afternoon spent paying attention.

If we are willing to look closely enough, it is available in every season, including the one we happen to be living in right now.