There’s something soft about spring — not loud like summer, not heavy like winter. Just gentle. Quiet. Green. It doesn’t shout. It unfolds.

First in tiny green shoots outside. Then in my kitchen. In a handful of herbs, a bowl of fresh peas, a few leeks that I slice slowly, feeling the return of something I hadn’t realized I’d missed: lightness.

After winter’s comfort food — thick stews, deep flavors, dark roots — spring invites me to cook with air. With color. With a little more breath between each step.

In this season, I start craving clarity. In my thoughts. In my meals. That’s why spring soups are so dear to me. They’re not here to overwhelm, they’re here to awaken. A bright green pea and mint blend. A lemony broth with chickpeas and fresh parsley. Something with dill. Something with asparagus. Nothing heavy — just enough.

I often cook in silence this time of year. Window open. No rush. Just the sounds of slicing, stirring, tasting.

Spring reminds me that slowness isn’t laziness — it’s awareness. It’s listening to what your body (and your heart) truly want. And sometimes, that’s just a warm, light bowl of something green.

I’ve been simmering quietly this season, making space in my kitchen and in myself. A gentle return to rhythm, to simplicity, to softness. And now I’m ready to share it with you — one bowl at a time.

With tenderness,
Heartfelt Recipes