I woke early this morning, to grey sky and long-awaited, if half-hearted rain. I had to run out in my pyjamas and pull a few toys in. We are so used to hot, dry days and nights now. My daughter’s gym mat, when I moved it, left a still-parched rectangle on the once-green lawn.

I was glad to be awake, because I was starting Beth Kempton’s gorgeous Summer Writing Sanctuary today. I had been hoping to be up on the sofa in the early hours, listening to her audio and jotting down ideas.

The week follows a series of colour studies. Today, our colour was orange. There was something joyful about filling my imagination with uncorrelating orange things. Starfish, I wrote. Spices. The particular shade on a map of Rome on a 1950’s film poster. Amber, tigers, calendula, curry. The cat that comes our way every day. Marmalade.

I was due to stay home all day with the children, and wrote a list of chores. But I also compiled a list in my head of possible “orange” things to do with my day. By evening, some of these were fulfilled; others weren’t. But it added an element of the treasure hunt to my day, like a game only I was playing.

The calendula, still dripping with rain, certainly felt like treasure.

As I got dressed, I collected little orange-gold trinkets for the sheer pleasure of seeking them out.

I made chai latte and enjoyed the rich, warm scent of the orange-ish spices.

I spotted a yellow-orange leaf on the ground, and felt the cosy anticipation of autumn.

I admired my dog’s tan markings (orange-brown?) as he lounged on tne sofa.

I spent hours working with my son to care for the hens (one of whom is a gingery orange) and the goats with their orange-tinged coats. We fed them carrots.

I made a cake for my nephew and decorated it with orange and blue flowers.

I cooked a spicy, peanutty curry, which held the extra joy of a day’s worth of anticipation.

In the evening, the children, my niece and I walked in the orange-gold of summer dusk.

My no-spend, chore-filled, stay-at-home day held that extra bit of charm that colour and play can bring, and I felt grateful.