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Last time I wrote that rest doesn’t come from planning.
Now I’m learning: sometimes the very things you plan quietly keep growing in the background.

The rain and the list

The day began the way many days start here in the Netherlands:
grey light, a table full of plans, and a pot of coffee that’s empty before it even cools.

Feiko slides his laptop towards me.
On the screen: a quad.
He smiles.
“I’ve sold the motorbike.”

Not because he wants to sit still, but because the adventure is taking a different shape.
The quad will soon be our right hand in Spain —
for the grass, the stones, the slope where even the wheelbarrow gives up.
A hobby with purpose.
Or rather: a hobby with direction.

Rest as a tool

We’re not building with stone at the moment, but with thoughts instead.
And honestly? Dust-free building suits me just fine.

The fountain, the cellar, the pool lights —
they’re finding their place in sketches and notes,
somewhere between shopping lists and coffee rings.

Doing nothing often turns out to be the most important work.
Between raindrops ideas appear
that would never come up in the full glare of sunlight.

Maybe that’s why rain can be so productive.
Not as a nuisance, but as a pause in which something new can take shape.

Silence as a building site

More grows in silence than you think.
The pace drops, and suddenly you can see clearly.
The Cortijo is already alive —
not yet as a house of stone,
but as a quiet idea of rest.

The coffee stain on the paper now looks suspiciously like Andalusia.
Uneven, a little sun, a little chaos.
Between the lines something emerges that isn’t visible yet,
but somehow already feels right.

Little lessons in quiet

1. Not every plan has to be finished today.
   Sometimes waiting is also building.
2. Look at what’s already there.
   It might be enough.
3. Leave something unfinished.
   Silence needs space if it’s going to be heard.

FAQ – Frequently Asked Questions

1. Why are you already making plans even though you’re not returning until December?
Because rest is also preparation. We don’t want to rush later — we want to arrive.

2. What exactly are you working on in the Netherlands?
We’re updating our to-do list: pool, fountain, cellar, lighting — everything that feels better when prepared in peace.

3. What do you mean by ‘What grows in silence’?
That not everything needs to be visible to grow. Some plans need quiet, just like we do.

Direction grows in silence.
Between rain and coffee stains, rest takes shape — not through planning, but through daring to wait.
What we’re building doesn’t start with stone, but with attention.

✨ Thank you for reading — it truly means a lot.
Would you like to stay updated on new stories and behind-the-scenes moments?
A ♡ or free subscription is always welcome.

Hasta luego from Andalusia,
Daniëlle | Cortijo La Vista

The Day the Shower Overflowed

We had planned it so well:
today was finally going to be a quiet day.

No construction noise, no tools, no guests. Just coffee, shade and silence.
Until the shower decided to overflow.
So much for the plan — Feiko with the drill in his hand, me on the floor with towels.
A few minutes later we heard the water draining again, a sigh of relief moving through the house.
The calm returned on its own. Not despite the day, but within it.

The Northern European Urge to Plan

We Northern Europeans are good at planning.
We even schedule our relaxation, as if rest is something you can reserve.
We block out ‘doing nothing’ in our calendars and hope it works.

But rest cannot be forced.
It doesn’t need a schedule — only permission.
The harder you try to relax, the further it slips away.

It’s a bit like the Andalusian wind moving through the holm oaks:
she doesn’t appear when you call her, only when you stop talking.

What We’re Learning Here

We’ve only got one foot in Spain so far, but that one foot is learning fast.
The walls peel if you look at them too long — heat, sun and time do that.
They need care, not schedules.
And honestly, that applies to almost everything here.

In the Netherlands we believed rest was something you earned after working hard.
Here we’re learning that rest is something you can simply allow.
Just like the land here: stubborn and dry, yet generous when you give it time.

The Holm Oak as a Teacher

Across the hills stand centuries-old holm oaks.
They barely move, yet catch every breeze with ease.
They don’t bend to survive — they listen to the sky.

Sometimes I think rest works exactly the same way:
not by standing still, but by giving way a little.
A bit like us, slowly learning to loosen our grip on our to-do lists.
Or like Feiko’s drill, which only stops when the water decides: that’s enough.

The Softness of Allowing

Allowing isn’t laziness — it’s an active kind of kindness towards yourself.
It takes courage to stop fixing and still stay present.
That’s also the core of what mindful research calls “acceptance”:
the capacity to be with what is, without immediately trying to improve it.

Understanding what is isn’t passive — it can be a surprising source of strength. Mindful Magazine describes how acceptance helps us endure difficult emotions sustainably: “Welcoming and letting tough emotions be … instead of pushing them away … might be the key to riding out unpleasant experiences.”
And another piece on Mindful connects acceptance with self-compassion: mindfulness teaches us to hold our experience, while self-compassion shifts the attention to who we are while we’re having that experience.
The Greater Good Science Center also writes powerfully about how self-compassion supports us in stressful times — not by pushing the storm away, but by staying kind to ourselves while moving through it.

Small Lessons in Allowing

1. Let the list sit.
   It’s not going anywhere — it simply waits until you’re ready again.

2. Notice what’s already right.
   Sometimes the house is crooked, but the light is perfect.

3. Leave something unfinished.
   It’s the space in between that lets you breathe.

FAQ – Frequently Asked Questions

1. What does “allowing” really mean?
Not fighting what’s happening. Staying present, even if it doesn’t fit your plan.

2. Why is letting go so difficult?
Because control feels safe. Yet rest lives exactly where there’s nothing left to guard.

3. How can I practise this at home?
Start small. Drink your coffee without your phone. Breathe. Notice what is already good.

4. Why does this fit Cortijo La Vista?
Because silence isn’t scheduled here. It emerges on its own, between two holm oaks, when the day is allowed to be itself.

Real rest doesn’t come from planning — it comes from allowing.
It doesn’t grow from control, but from trust —
like the wind drifting in between two holm oaks.

✨ Thank you for reading — it truly means a lot.
Would you like to read more? A ♡ or free subscription is always welcome.

Hasta luego from Andalusia,
Danielle | Cortijo La Vista