There is a particular kind of happiness that happens when I look at a table covered in things I made.
It is rarely tidy.
There are stacks of paper everywhere. Plastic sleeves. Scissors. Packaging. Little piles waiting to be sorted. Something inevitably ends up where it isn’t supposed to be.
But somewhere in that creative chaos are all these tiny things waiting to become someone else’s.
Notepads are some of my favorite things to make.
Maybe because they’re so simple.
They’re not grand. They’re not something you carefully display behind glass.
You scribble grocery lists on them.
You write down the thing you absolutely must remember before your brain decides to throw it into the abyss.
You leave little notes for people.
You make lists, plans, reminders and occasionally write something very important like:
BUY MORE PENS.
Naturally. 😏
But I think that is exactly why I love them.
Beautiful things don’t have to be reserved for special occasions.
Sometimes beauty gets to sit beside your keyboard while you work.
Sometimes it gets coffee stains.
Sometimes it lives inside a handbag with three pens, two receipts and something you’ve been looking for since Wednesday.
And sometimes, it becomes a tiny gift.
That was what I kept thinking while I was making these.
The designs came from my paintings. Sunflowers, lemons, leaves and other little pieces of art that began at my desk and eventually found their way onto paper.
I printed.
Cut.
Stacked.
Glued.
Packed.
Then I did it again.
And yes, the strawberry doodles found their way into a product, too!
And again.
Until my table was covered with little squares of color.
There is something deeply satisfying about watching individual pieces slowly become a collection.
A sunflower here.
A lemon there.
Soft greens.
Blush pinks.
Little strawberries.
Each one with its own personality, but all of them waiting for the same thing:
a new home.
And perhaps that is one of my favorite parts of making things.
I don’t always know where they will end up.
One might sit on a teacher’s desk.
Another might become part of someone’s morning routine.
Someone might use one to write a grocery list.
Someone else might write an idea on it that becomes something much bigger.
I’ll probably never know.
I only get to make the beginning.
Then I wrap everything up, seal the packages, and send these little pieces of joy out into the world.
And these particular little pieces?
Remember the client from When a Painting Finds a Home?
The one who asked me to create planners using my paintings?
She ordered these, too.
All those planners.
All these notepads.
Even the City Cats!
One enormous collection of things I had painted, designed, printed, cut, assembled and packed with my own hands.
I stood there looking at everything before I packed the final order and had one of those quiet little moments that sneaks up on you.
Someone had chosen my work.
Not just one painting.
Not just one planner.
Not just one notepad.
She chose all these little pieces of me.
So I packed them carefully.
One by one.
Little pieces of paper.
Little pieces of art.
Little pieces of joy.
And then I sent them home. 💛
—-
With elegance and quiet fire,
Lady E
Founder, Glow by Lady E
An editorial space for stories, art, and intentional living
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