We hebben onze eerste bijenzwerm geschept en alles verliep uitstekend. In de middag vertrok de oude koningin met ongeveer een derde van het volk en ging in een boom zitten.
Door regenwater te sproeien konden we de zwerm kleiner maken. Zo bleef er een groter deel van het volk in de kast achter en konden we rond 17:20 uur nog een mooie aflegger maken, voordat we beide volken naar de boerderij verplaatsten.
Het resultaat: drie sterke volken en één volk met een honingkamer erop.
You know those moments when all you want to do is make something with your hands? No rush, no pressure — just fabric, thread, and a bit of quiet. I stitched this little piece entirely by hand, using scraps from my fabric basket, cheerful florals, and a few simple embroidery stitches to hold it all together.
Slow stitching has truly become one of my favourite forms of meditative making. Almost every stitch is like a deep breath. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to prove. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just is.
And look — isn’t the result just so joyful? 🍋🌿 The sunny colours and playful triangles make me smile every time I look at it. It feels like spring, captured in thread and cloth.
If you’ve been wanting to try it too, just begin. A scrap of fabric, a needle, whatever you have nearby. No rules. Just presence… and joy.
Just look at her bloom! Our little apple tree is once again bursting with delicate white flowers — a promise of sweet, crisp apples to come. It always amazes me how much beauty and abundance one small tree can offer, especially right here in the heart of a city garden.
Even in an urban backyard in the Randstad, it’s absolutely possible to grow your own organic fruit. A little care, a little patience, and nature does the rest.
April in the garden is full of anticipation. Everything’s waking up — the bees are busy (you can just spot the hive in the background!), the soil is soft, and the light feels a little warmer each day.
I’m already dreaming of those first bites of sun-warmed apples come late summer. But for now, I’m simply enjoying the blossoms. Fragile. Fleeting. And full of life.
Meanwhile indoors::
🧵 Siem, My Little Shadow
Wherever I go, she follows. And wherever I settle — at the sewing table, by the clay, in the garden — Siem finds a spot close by, usually right in the action.
Here she is, mid-inspection of my sewing supplies. That look? Equal parts judgment and devotion. She’s not entirely sure why I’m fussing with fabric when I could be scratching under her chin, but she stays. Always close. Always watching.
She’s my 10 year-young cat, my silent companion, my little shadow with sharp blue eyes and a heart that beats softly next to mine.
No matter what I’m making, it feels a little more complete with Siem by my side.
Say hello to my very first tiny teddy — stitched by hand, stuffed with love, and already off exploring the world (mostly houseplants for now, but who knows what’s next?).
He’s not perfect. His stitches wobble a little, his arms are slightly uneven, and I love him all the more for it. There’s something incredibly special about making a little creature from nothing but scraps and time — watching it slowly take shape in your hands until suddenly, there he is. A bear.
I used a piece of soft, worn plaid fabric I couldn’t bear to throw away — it already had stories in it, and now it has a few more. Every stitch felt like a little spell, anchoring joy and curiosity into cloth.
He’s been spotted climbing the bonsai, sunbathing by the water glass, and resting in my palm, waiting patiently for his next adventure.
Honestly? I’m hooked. I think he may soon have friends.
