|
This feels rather special to write, as it's the very first edition of the Monthly Letter. For quite some time, I've wanted to create a quiet little space beyond YouTube—a place to share seasonal reflections, small moments from cottage life, and the thoughts that don't always find their way into a video. Wherever you're reading this today, I'm truly glad you're here. I hope this becomes a gentle tradition we can share each month. One of the things I've come to appreciate most over the past year is the value of slowing down. In a world that seems to encourage us to rush from one thing to the next, I've found so much comfort in creating little rituals—morning coffee, evening walks, a quiet hour with a good book, afternoon tea on the patio, or simply sitting outside listening to the birds. Those are the moments that often mean the most, and they're the moments I'd love to share here. Summer has arrived softly at the cottage. The mornings are still mostly cool, with the exception of the recent heatwaves (yes, plural!) that England and mainland Europe have experienced. There have been several nights spent sleeping on the sofa because the upstairs bedroom was simply too warm. Even Leila insisted it was too hot, spending many afternoons stretched out in front of the fan I'd placed on the floor just for her. As an Arkansas girl, I'm surprised she was so unimpressed by the heat! I bumped into a neighbour just yesterday who asked how I was handling the heat in the cottage. After patiently listening to my grievances, they suggested perhaps setting up a camp bed on the patio when the nights are stifling. To be fair, it’s really not a bad idea—desperate times call for desperate measures! Needless to say, I find myself missing the glorious air conditioning from my years in the United States and am already contemplating what changes I need to make before next summer arrives. One thing I've noticed since returning is how differently I experience the seasons now. After so many years away, I seem to notice the little things far more than I once did. Maybe it’s in part due to being in this stage of life, or this little cottage, or less hustle, less noise, or a combination of many things. I’m not quite sure, but I can say with conviction that my nervous system seems to be realigning. Neighbours tend their gardens long into the evening here, the allotments are full of colour, and even after the recent heatwaves have passed, there's something rather magical about the light lingering so late into the day. Those little differences are becoming some of my favourite parts of being home again. Behind the cottage, the community allotments are flourishing with flowers, fruit, and all the wonderful scents they bring. Wildlife is abundant, particularly the butterflies in every colour imaginable, delicately weaving their way through the greenery. Watching the bees go about their work, their gentle hum providing the soundtrack to summer evenings, is one of life's simple pleasures. And occasionally discovering one resting in a flower, dusted with pollen or drinking from a tiny pool of nectar, feels like one of nature's loveliest little surprises. What a delight it was to stumble upon just such a moment! Wandering the allotments at golden hour has quickly become one of my favourite evening rituals. So, we're spending these picturesque English summer evenings out on the patio—reading, listening to birdsong, tending to the garden, and simply enjoying these quiet moments before the seasons begin to change. Although the longest day of the year is now behind us, the evenings still seem wonderfully drawn out, allowing us to savour every last gentle moment summer has to offer. Returning to the United States in June felt, in a way, a little like opening an old photo album. It was my first time visiting Philadelphia, and the city's beauty, character, warmth, history, and patriotism truly touched me. Being there with dear friends to celebrate the wedding of a much-loved friend made the trip extra special, and it's one that will stay with me always. One of the hardest things about moving has been leaving my family and closest friends in the United States, and although I wasn't quite the same person who had left for England a year earlier, walking through Rittenhouse Square with an iced coffee in hand, I caught myself smiling because I realised I could hold those feelings a little more gently than before. I could miss parts of my life in the United States while still feeling happy to come home to this little cottage afterwards. That surprised me in the nicest possible way. Because this is our very first Monthly Letter, I thought I'd share a little more about myself too. One thing that probably won't surprise you is that I'm happiest in quiet places. While I don't mind standing up in front of a room full of people when I need to, I've always been someone who finds peace in the simple things—home, a walk outdoors, a good book, or an afternoon with a cup of tea. My circle has never been large, but it's always been meaningful. The friendships I treasure most have been built over many years, and they're the kind where you can pick up exactly where you left off, no matter how much time has passed. When I moved back to England, I found myself wanting to create that same feeling online. Not another fast-moving feed to keep up with, but a place that felt calm, thoughtful, and unhurried. Somewhere we could appreciate the changing seasons, celebrate ordinary moments, and be reminded that a good life doesn't have to be a busy one. I've always believed that some of life's richest moments are also its quietest. They don't usually make headlines, and they aren't the sort of things people boast about. They're found in the first cup of coffee of the day, watching the seasons slowly change, tending to a home you love, or simply feeling content with where you are. Those are the moments that have always stayed with me, and they're the moments I hope to celebrate here. One thing you may not know is that I'm naturally quite an introvert. I'm perfectly happy spending time on my own, and I've never measured the richness of life by how busy it is. Give me a peaceful afternoon, a beautiful walk, or a meaningful conversation with someone I care about, and I couldn't ask for much more. I think that's one of the reasons creating The Measured Life has felt so natural—it reflects the way I've always lived. Perhaps that's what drew me to begin writing these letters. I'd love for this Monthly Letter to grow naturally over time. My hope is that each month it will feel like sitting down together over a cup of tea to catch up on life, the changing seasons, and the simple things that bring us joy. Thank you for choosing to be here at the very beginning of this new chapter and for allowing me to share this little corner of England with you. Sending love, Clare
|
