I feel sorry for the British Summer. There’s so much pressure on it to be blue-skied with unlimited hot sun. Day after day. Or at least at the weekends. Then, when it offers something different: perhaps rain, or sunshine and showers, or just cloud, one question echoes loudly across the land.
Where is summer?
Yes there is something restorative about feeling the sun’s warm rays on your face. On your shoulders whilst you walk around outside. Having the sun merrily encourage you to get together with friends: to eat barbecue, to drink prosecco. I get that.
But I also think summer can be found elsewhere whether it is boiling hot at the weekend or not.
It’s in the fields as the crops turn from muted green to gold; wheat rustling as you walk past, barley rising and swaying, like a yellow ocean. The earth cracking underneath your feet. Bees buzzing on the flowers that are popping up everywhere. Pink and yellow grasses catching the sun; glinting in the evening light.
The British Summer is changeable. Unreliable. You can have three or four types of weather in one day.
But I feel, that’s what makes it so special. And I’m going to try and find the joy in every day.
And yes, I did get soaked on a dog walk the day after I took this video. It was fine and sunny when I set out…