Season’s End | On Unhurried Summers and Slower Autumns

Now that we are officially in the ‘ber months, I find myself reflecting back on summer. This year’s season felt different, and it took a while to understand why. We had a few bucket list items, but for the most part, we didn’t make a list. We set an intention in June that our summer would be slower and more analog. That we’d be outside more and on screens less.

I expected that to feel loose in a way I’d regret. Instead it turned out to be the thing that made the summer full. Because when there’s no plan, you say yes to the drive that has no destination. You stay at the river until the light changes rather than leaving at two because something else was scheduled. You let a child crouch at the water’s edge for an hour looking at something you never do see, and you don’t interrupt him because there’s nowhere you’re supposed to be next.

We spent whole afternoons in bookstores. We drove with a paper atlas and made wrong turns. We watched films all the way through and actually talked about them afterward, because nothing was immediately filling the silence.

What I noticed by August was that we’d gotten closer. Not in a dramatic way, just more time in the same room, more conversations that started in the middle of something else. I think closeness is mostly a function of unstructured time. You can’t schedule it. You can only leave room and see what arrives. The pressure was off, nothing was left undone, and that alone helped us be as present as possible. Reflecting back, there isn’t a version of these three months I keep wishing we’d had instead. We were there, we paid attention, and that turned out to be enough.

Now that we’re headed into a season full of holidays and activities, I want to set a similar intention: to slow down and not plan for too much. It’s easy to overextend in these next few months while trying to ensure memories are being made and quality time is had. But instead, I choose to focus on the first cool morning. Opening the windows and spending it unhurried. The house smelling like butter and cinnamon again because the oven is finally worth turning on. All the apples and special treats we can make together without any expectation of perfection.

We’ll naturally be outside more as the desert becomes generous again and the things we couldn’t do in July open back up. Longer walks, watching the sunset from the porch and Saturday morning farm stands and farmers markets.

Same intention, new season. Fewer plans which provide a little more room to let the good days find us.