Small Acts of Joy That Change Everything

I love all seasons. Yet, summer has a particular quality I want to bottle and keep on a high shelf, to pour out when life feels flat, the news is grim and February is dragging its feet. Windows thrown open to birdsong and distant chatter. Barefoot steps in the garden. The early sun warming my face. BBQ’s and picnics with friends. For me, summer is stitched into my childhood, long days of pootling about, nowhere to rush, nowhere to be and it still carries the promise of something softer, more spacious. A season that dares you to slow down and whispers, you have time. I see my grandchildren feel it too, that same easy, breezy freedom. And this year, I’ve been desperate to hold onto it for longer.

For me, this year, that feeling has felt harder to access.