I was really looking forward to this summer holiday: the break from work, the warmer weather, the time to write, take photos, and spend time in the sun… All of it. I wrote recently about my biggest creative challenge (learning to pause but not quit) and the last season has played a large part in that internal struggle. It turned out to be a decidedly un-summery summer and I spent most of the time inside feeling fatigued, ill, or just a bit flat and not doing most of the things I had planned. The damp and cold affects my asthma quite a bit (I wasn’t really built for life on an island in the North Sea but here we are) so I spend quite a few months each year with thoughts of a dreamy summer and a sense of longing for sunshine in the back of my mind.
This year, that wasn’t to be and my on-the-edge-of-burnout body and can’t-quite-focus-any-longer brain, combined with the grim weather brought me to a bit of a standstill. That’s not to say it was all bad though - there were pockets of goodness in among the rainy days. I wanted to share some of them this week as a reminder. That reminder is partly for me (the brain, or mine at least, has a fascinating tendency to fixate on the negative memories rather than the positive so this is an antidote to that) and partly for you in case you’re going through a season that isn’t quite what you wanted or needed either.
There are always tiny moments to notice even inside, even in the mess, even in the rain.
Hom Aboot
Home About - Shetland dialect for being around the house, staying home, pottering about
I knew I’d given up on the idea of a summery summer when I felt like making a giant puzzle. That’s a winter’s day, hot chocolate in hand, huddled under a blanket sort of activity. But that’s the summer we were given so I leaned into it, scented candle and all. I also sat on the sofa with the dogs, bought flowers - and was given them, which is always welcome - and finally put up some artwork up in the kitchen and hallway. Undergoing slow renovations over the last several years has meant that I keep waiting to do jobs like that until it’s all further along, until it’s all finished. But doing it now, even if these pictures have to get taken down and put back up again, has actually made it feel closer to being finished already. It feels more like home because there’s a little more of me, of us, on the walls.
I made the big ink drawing of a pile of chairs in an art class years ago - we had to forage about for possible implements outdoors and then use them to paint with ink - so it was scribbled out with a stick and spattered it with ink flicked off a feather. I feel a bit weird about putting my own art on the wall usually (anyone else?!) but I wanted something big for that space above the radiator and it was a good fit. There’s also a little painting of mine in the gallery that Peggy is looking unimpressed by but you can’t really make it out in that photo. It’s an acrylic painted from a photo I took of a curtain pooling on the wooden floor with dappled sunlight coming through the window. Actually, I haven’t made much art in a long time but writing that sentence just made me want to do draw something…
The Kitchen Garden
The wonder of watching beautiful things grow in imperfect conditions
When the sun did occasionally peek out I was usually to be found in the garden. My partner Akshay is a chef and this year he started a kitchen garden. He cleared the ground, built the raised beds and a small polytunnel, and has grown almost everything from seed. I’ve loved watching things grow - everything from fruit and vegetables to edible flowers - and sitting in the sheltered area we made for a few chairs. If you want to see how it’s all going along with vlogs around Shetland, foraging in the forest, and recipes with occasional cameos from our dogs, you can follow along on Akshay’s YouTube and Instagram - he’s
on both.The nasturtiums have been one of my favourites to watch: they were planted in a narrow raised bed along the edge of a stone wall and decided to climb up it, weaving in and out of the stones, with leaves and flower buds popping out higher and higher up over the last few months. They’re so vibrant against the textured grey of the stones and they’re a great reminder of forging out your own path even if you’re not sure where it’ll take you. I love the persistence of plants and their will to grow regardless of the circumstances, breaking through even the tiniest cracks to find the light and bring their version of beauty into the world. Wish we could all do a little more of that. I’m aiming to bring that mindset into the next season. A little bit less anxiety and little more f*ck it let’s see what happens, y’know?
This summer also included two weddings (including my best pal who was the dreamiest most beautiful bride and I was lucky enough to do a reading of a Shetland poem during the ceremony), occasional meals out, a BBC film crew shooting with Akshay for Landward over a mercifully sunny weekend, several pairs of studded ankle boots and a leather jacket from Vinted, baking blondies for a catch up with my oldest friend, and a lot of re-watched comfort TV. There was also a loss, as there often seems to be, when our much-loved uncle passed away. Another reminder to tell those we love the things we feel or write them down so they can keep your words close, and to notice the beauty, particularly in nature, as often as we possibly can. Life is always full of the double-edged sword, isn’t it? Doing my best to take the lessons where I find them and let go of the rest.
It’s probably already clear that cosy season is often all the seasons in Shetland and there are plenty of clouds to achieve expert level in looking for silver linings. Perhaps that’s no bad thing. Since going back to work mid-August there have actually been a few gorgeous sunny days so we’ve made the most of those and stocked up on as much Vitamin D and daylight as possible before the dark takes a bigger hold on our days.
I hope this little collection of moments and photos inspires you take a snap of something tiny today, especially if it’s raining and cold and you’re not feeling remotely cheerful. It might make you smile, even if it’s just for a moment. And when you look back, you might just find you have a whole photo album too.
I’d love to hear about your summer - was it the one you wanted, needed, or something else altogether like mine? Let me know, I’d love to hear your stories!
Adored this read. Looove your chair artwork! I know what you mean re: hanging your own artwork, can feel a bit weird but it’s also nice to have something of our own there isn’t it. We probably wouldn’t feel like that if it was a photo we took?
Love the garden updates too.
Thank you for such a delightful escape here. x
Ps: Big surprise, you like puzzles too.
Lovely piece...I hope you (and your partner) have discovered the use of nasturtiums, both leaves and flowers, in among salad? Gives a peppery tang to the more bland salad greens, like spinach