I have been struggling with writing about my summer this year, because, more than ever, this time feels like a luxury in this busy, broken world. It’s not that I have done anything particularly grand, but even just getting to be at home with my kids for six weeks, living in peace and freedom, feels like a huge priviledge. I don’t wish to take that for granted. I don’t wish to blandly ramble on about my cups of coffee and books and sea-swims while others are struggling. While wars and racism and poverty and climate change and displacement still burn through our world.

That said, on this blog, I have always used the small things as my way of fighting back at the big, bad things of the world. These words are my tiny way of defying some of the evil. Because it can be helpful to remember that even as the world falls apart, we humans still gather, we still offer simple acts of love and friendship, we still make art and books and meals. There is hope in the small things.

This summer, for us, has been a season of gatherings, at our place and others’. Nothing fancy, just good old-fashioned, informal get-togethers, with family, old friends and new ones.

In my book, The Joy Scrapbook, I use a quote from Frances Mayes, which I have also used here before. It sums up so beautifully how this summer has been for us – although our hospitality and home are definitely rougher around the edges than hers. I love the line, “inevitably, guests gather”.

I also quote Shauna Niequist:

When we gather, we can offer each other a sense of safety and belonging for a while, which I think we need now more than ever. In the book, I write, “Hospitality is about making people feel welcome, giving them a place to be safe, rested and served…” There is something about summer that lends itself to resting together, just as we are.

It has been a joy to gather with friends and family in the past few weeks. Some of us watched the eclipse together; with others, we have shared cups of coffee while our children played; there have been cobbled together meals, barbeques, birthday cakes and, my husband would argue, too many jacket potatoes. Our family have not had big holidays or huge adventures, but these get togethers have felt like a natural, simple unfolding of life.

What has your summer looked like?

(If you like the sound of the book, do take a look on Amazon, here, or ask me about it).