Slow Summer Days
A journal entry on flowers, cooking, reading and ordinary summer days.
There wasn’t anything particularly big planned for these days.
I spent some time at home, sorted out flowers, cooked, read for a while and went to the park.
I think summer makes me notice ordinary things a little more. The light coming through the windows. Flowers around the house. Being able to go outside without thinking about a coat. Sitting somewhere quiet with nowhere I urgently need to be.
One day, I went to the park for a little while. Not to do anything in particular. Just to be outside.
Sometimes I forget how much I like that.
On another day, I spent some time with the flowers. I love having fresh flowers in the house, but arranging them might be my favourite part. There is something very satisfying about starting with a big bunch and slowly finding where everything wants to go.
Then there was cooking, and later, reading.
None of it was extraordinary. That is probably what I liked about it.
I used to think the best days needed something to happen in them. Now I think some of the best days are the ones where life is simply allowed to be life. Flowers on the table. Something cooking in the kitchen. A book waiting nearby. A little time outside.
Nothing saved for later. Just summer, while it is still here.
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