High Summer Notes

As I write to you, it’s mid July and I am in flux between being exhausted and done with summer, while feeling creativity flow back into my life.

This year, I’ve thought a lot about how living in relationship with the earth’s seasons, the sun, wind and water, has changed the way I understand my own internal states.

Moods, thoughts, motivations, rest, healing.

These all ebb and flow, and I believe there is a direct relationship between our inner rhythms and the earth when we allow ourselves to live with the seasons.

The growing need to create is directly tied to the turning of the wheel toward the autumnal equinox (or at least, for me personally).

Autumn… doesn’t it seem wonderful even mentioning it?

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Why does late July/ high summer feel exhausting (and does it leave you feeling this way)?

Summer holds an impenetrable nostalgia.

Endless streams of sun rays filtered through pine. Free from anxiety. Endless carefree days.

So much has changed.

Perhaps looking back, that hazy nostalgia is simply golden because we can look back and know we were safe. Know that those days were unbothered, untethered.

In Canada, fires are currently burning all over our vast wild, beautiful country. The Boreal forests, the Mountain region and right here in the Wabanaki forest.

The fires have brought a constant sense of unease.

We are all hoping for rain and perhaps, when you receive this, the rain will be falling in sheets - filling the streams and quenching the fire. Reminding us of the summers we remember loving so fiercely.

But, I did mention a flux, exhaustion mixed with the tide of motivation and creativity. Turning the unease and anxiety and uncertainty of having no control over the weather into creating.

We had some practical tasks that had to be completed, like stacking all of our firewood for the winter and building a shed.

The shed is a HUGE sense of relief. We have lived without any outdoor storage for 5 years. Finally, we had the energy and motivation to build a small shed ourselves - with no building experience at all.

What do you think?

I really love it and wanted it to feel like a small red fishing shack, on the shore. The window frame is vintage, picked up on the side of the road and the horseshoe was dug up in our old garden.

Our lot here is very sloped, so we built it on supports to not disturb the roots of a large spruce. It fits into the landscape this way, with a sense that it has always belonged there.

Who knew a shed could bring so much happiness? I get a little butterfly in my chest when I see it. We will add a window box as well!

The shed build has given us the confidence to start our first small project on our land: a wooden platform high on our ridge for stargazing and camping. I’ll share this with you all when we start - but we likely won’t be returning to our woodland to work until the autumn.

Small steps.

Now that we have completed some lingering tasks at our house, I feel like I can let my mind be carried by the turning of the wheel. Yes, it’s high summer… but the shift from mid-summer is palpable.

It’s in the light, the lack of rain, the ocean. Before we know it, the nights will creep up on us.

The coming of Autumn always brings me back to a creative place and with the exhaustion of late July, I just want the comfort of cooler days and sinking back into a world of quietly making.

To ease back into it after the past few months, I decided to dye some fabric with Great Mullein that’s growing in my garden.

Colours can often be so muted, it’s hard for the camera to even pick up the shade. After the Great Mullein simmering in the dye pot for 2 hours, the colours were tan and beige, green with iron and copper.

Picking the plant that has been soaking up the sun for 2 years in our back was enough to bring me back into a creative state.

Linked directly to the growth cycle of a plant I’ve observed since last summer.

And sometimes, that is all you need.

Since then, I’ve added a whole strip of fabric to the quilt and my mind is turning to the plants in my garden for dyeing and adding to the patchwork quilt that has sat in the dark these past few months.

Lavender, hollyhock, sage, yarrow, calendula. So many plants yield subtle hues - faint pinks or greens, beige or tan.

I also finished a few more small paintings of Iceland. While stuck in the heat, I mentally drift off to a much cooler part of the world.

There is also a lot of progress happening on a sweater. The wool is entirely re-used from a previous sweater I made maybe 13 years ago and no longer wear. Given the price of wool, it is deeply satisfying.

It had felt so good, taking this unease, this anxiety of the current state of our planet and transforming it into the flow state of making. Understanding that there are some things we cannot control, and sometimes all we can do is weather the storm while looking toward the future.

Again, small steps.

When you receive this, let’s hope it’s pouring rain this high summer.

Wherever you are, I hope you find a moment to return to yourself.

Be well, and I’ll see you next time.

☾ Thank you for being here with me.

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