Ode to Summer

Season of sunshine and joyful contemplation.

There is a field near the woods where I walk and every summer evening, as I approach, I can hear the familiar thwack of a ball connecting with a wooden bat and the shouts and cheers of the spectators watching on. Some of them have brought picnics and flasks of tea and coffee, while others, like me, have stopped mid-walk to watch. There’s something so wonderful about pausing in the early evening sunshine to catch just a few minutes of a cricket match, played in a clearing surrounded by trees, and to enjoy the sense of camaraderie and inclusion that is extended to all who happen to pass by.

All photos © The Autumn Chronicles

While I am unequivocally a fan of autumn and all its richness, I have been making a concerted effort to find things to love about the summer. As a winter baby I am not a fan of the heat, particularly not the humid, sticky, energy-sapping heat we seem to get in London and I am far more at home when the weather mellows, but I do love the wealth of colour that heralds the arrival of warmer weather. I love the deep azure skies, the resplendent cluster of yellow roses in the garden of a house I pass by on my way to the Tube station, the multiplicity of greens from an abundance of summer foliage, the pastel hues of a summer sunset as it fades into the pale blue of twilight and the bright magenta of my favourite summer dress.

One of my favourite things about this time of year is the plenitude of wildflowers. There is something grounding about sitting on a bench near an area of grassland and just watching the bees, the butterflies and all the little insects clambering around to do their part to sustain the natural habitat, knowing that while what is visible is magical, there are even more miraculous things going on below the surface. I could lose myself for hours just watching the scene, imagining what the landscape must have looked like before the arrival of housing estates and tarmacked roads. I’m not lucky enough to live near the sea but if I am ever at the coast, I spend most of my time sitting on the beach, letting grains of sand run through my fingers and watching waves lap at the shore in the same ancient rhythm they have followed for millennia.

My ultimate summer activity is taking the chance to sit outside and do all the things I would usually do inside: read a book, write, think, plan, dream, all while watching the sky lengthen and then contract into night. I love to feel a summer breeze on exposed skin that is normally covered by layers of jumpers and coats, to feel the first rays of the sun on my face in the morning, to watch the clouds scud across the sky as the world turns. I love the light at this time of year when the sun is high, where everything is golden and warm before it inevitably sinks into the muted, frosted shades of winter.

Summer, for me, is an external season; one where I live outwardly and spend more energy than I conserve. It is vibrant with possibility, made easy by the longer days and lighter nights, by holidays, BBQs, day trips and salt-licked skin. It is a season for lying on grass, evening picnics and laughing until you burst. More than anything, it is a season for harvesting joy that we can enrich and preserve through the more introspective months to come.

I’d love to know: what does summer mean to you?