Reflections on Summer | 2024
My relationship with summer is complex. Memories of childhood evoke feelings of guilt, that somehow I should try harder. As summer passes, in looking back I look forward. In hope there is possibility.
I have always had a difficult relationship with summer. It stems from childhood, and 40 years on, the arrival of the season evokes similar feelings.
As a child, summer was a busy time. It was ‘sold’ to us as the bright, happy, carefree season, when we spent endless hours with family and friends, soaking up the sunshine and basking in the heat. As a child, our family was small, scattered far and wide around the country, and as far afield as the other side of the world. I had a few friends, but somehow, didn’t have the wide circle of companions others did. I never minded, and the only child in me was perhaps content with this gentler approach.
But it was easy, in those far-off days, to feel left out, that somehow, summer wasn’t a season for me, but a time for everyone else. Once again, I found myself on the outside looking in. Those feelings have remained, and when summer returns each year, as everyone jets off, I collapse in a heap of exhaustion.
All this said, I look back on my childhood summers with a certain fondness. They were simpler times, and I was content, in my own world, to enjoy the simple pleasures which the season brought. In my quest to make friends with summer now, I draw on those memories.
This summer has been especially humid, unpleasantly so. The lingering humidity has hung motionless in the air for what seems like months. It has weighed heavily, and I have longed for release. I’ve always found the heat wearisome, and whilst this year we haven’t experienced the heatwaves of previous summers, the weather has still brought its own challenges. Add those to the summer baggage I feel laden with already, the season remains a challenge.
Perhaps I’m naive in thinking all this is possible? Maybe I see this redemption through rose-tinted spectacles?
I wonder if the busyness and exhaustion which summer brings, is a reminder to re-evaluate. In the autumn, winter and early-spring, we plant our gardens with bulbs and shrubs which will flourish come summer. As summer progresses, we can’t help but sit back and admire the beauty in nature, but also, to begin to think about how me might like to enjoy it next year. Soon, we shall have to plant bulbs to enjoy in the rebirthing of next spring. Planning, or at least, thinking ahead, starts early.
As well as thinking about the beautiful blooms we might enjoy next year, we’re also thinking about how we can use the outdoor space in our small, oddly-shaped garden. Perhaps this will be the year we will commit to finding a tiny summer house which we can make our own and use all year round?
In this season of enforced evaluation, we find ourselves considering so many of the seemingly tiny pockets of our lives, which collectively, conjoin to create those spinning plates with which we’re all so familiar. We might be thinking about our work and our businesses, our leisure time, and the amount of time we are able to give to those voluntary roles which many of us undertake. If some of those were to give, perhaps summer could inhabit a calmer, gentler space; one in which we can truly live in tune with the seasons?
As I have written previously,
and I spent two beautiful weeks in the Derbyshire Dales in August where we felt relaxed, at peace and unhurried. I’ve also written recently about how hard it is to preserve that state once ‘normal life’ resumes. This, of course, begs the question: why does there remain such a deep void between both? In many respects, this is a problem found in a much wider society driven by capitalism, where ‘work’ and ‘play’ have been separated out into two wholly different things. Society conditions us to work as hard as we can, to earn as much money as possible, so that when the holidays come, we might sit back and relax, to enjoy the fruit of our labours.Many of us, myself included, have spent our entire lives, often unwittingly swimming against that particular tide. I have been self-employed my entire working life, having essentially made a ‘job’ out of my ‘hobby’. It sounds idyllic, but of course, it brings its own challenges. The divide between ‘work’ and ‘leisure’ is blurred, constantly shifting. Perhaps it’s in the long summer months where this comes to a head, where these two things, with their blurry borders, compete for some yet-defined middle ground?
Understandably, we often start each new season by setting intentions. I’ve talked previously about seeking lightness and freshness in autumn, an antidote to the heaviness of summer. Perhaps we need to think further ahead. How will our lives evolve in the next nine months, so that when summer returns, we might approach it with a renewed body and mind?
I will never be summer’s biggest fan, but each year, as it fades into autumn, I am left feeling slightly sad, and ever so slightly guilty. I wish I’d done more, for all those plans and good intentions to have come to fruition. I’m sorry to have wished it away in my quest to embrace autumn. I lament at not having made the most of those long summer days. Perhaps you do too?
All good relationships require patience, grace and understanding. Our relationship with the seasons, with the world around us, are no exception. So I too have to give myself a little grace, to put summer behind me, to look ahead, and to enjoy all that the coming seasons bring. But I also want to look ahead, to keep growing and evolving in a way which might just bring about a slightly different relationship with summer next year.
When I return in 12 months time to share my reflections on Summer 2025, I wonder how I will feel? Will anything have changed? I hope so. Challenges remain, but where there is hope, there is always possibility.
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For me it is about seasonal moments not the entire season. I build my life around small seasonal moments and that has served me well in finding both the beauty and joy nestled deep within each season 🙏🏻
"As I have written previously, Clementine Barton and I spent two beautiful weeks in the Derbyshire Dales in August where we felt relaxed, at peace and unhurried. I’ve also written recently about how hard it is to preserve that state once ‘normal life’ resumes. This, of course, begs the question: why does there remain such a deep void between both?"
David, this is a great post. So many of us understand exactly what you mean, all of us with our different ways or words to describe, essentially, the same feeling. This part, especially, stuck out to me. I've often left a whimsical "vacation" or experience wondering, how can I harness this at home, in my everyday? I've come to the conclusion it starts at the heart. Our core. That's the only part truly and wholly ours. I've not gotten much further than that, as you know, it's a daily, monthly, yearly discovery! Anyhow, I'm so looking forward to how you unpack this throughout the year, and what your renewed perspective is as you enter into next year. I'll draw some inspiration from whatever you come up with!