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There’s something about these last weeks of summer that always feels a little different—as though one season hasn’t quite finished, while another is already quietly waiting in the wings. August has certainly kept us guessing here in England. The heatwaves continued, bringing more of those impossibly warm days when this little cottage stayed unbearably hot long after the sun had gone down. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so interested in weather forecasts, open windows, strategically placed fans, and the possibility of a cool breeze! And then, finally, the rain came. I’d forgotten quite how much I’d missed the sound of it until I heard it falling on the patio again. After weeks of dry ground and gardens beginning to look rather tired, there was something wonderfully comforting about watching the rain soak into the earth. Almost immediately, the air felt fresher. The windows could be opened again without simply inviting more heat inside, and for the first time in quite a while, there was that unmistakable feeling that summer might slowly be beginning to loosen its grip. It’s still very much summer, of course. The garden is full of dahlias, the allotments behind the cottage are still overflowing, and on a pleasant afternoon it’s lovely to be sitting outside with a cup of tea. But every so often, there’s a subtle shift. The light is changing. The evenings are drawing in slightly earlier. There’s a cooler edge to the breeze. Tiny reminders that autumn really isn’t very far away. The shops seem determined to remind us too. Autumn has been appearing on the shelves for several weeks now—warm colours, candles, throws, cushions and all the seasonal things that make you want to come home and cosy everything up. I have to admit, I’m very happy to see it. I know some people would happily hang on to summer forever, but I’m not one of them. As a redhead, hot weather and bright sunshine have never really been my ideal combination, and I’ve always felt far more at home once the air turns cooler and the light begins to soften. Add in an autumn birthday, and perhaps it’s no surprise that I absolutely love this time of year. Autumn and winter have always felt like my seasons. What I love most as autumn approaches is the way life gradually moves back indoors: lamps switched on earlier, candles burning in the evening, something warm cooking in the kitchen, a familiar sweater pulled out again, and the cottage becoming a sanctuary as the seasons change. This will be my first autumn in this cottage, which makes it feel particularly special. Last year, I was still finding my feet after moving back to England and hadn’t yet found a place of my own. A year later, life is much more settled, and I’m grateful to be experiencing this time of year from somewhere that now feels so familiar. This past week, I took myself off for some autumn shopping and came home with a few pieces to begin bringing the season into the cottage. Nothing dramatic—this is still a tiny cottage, after all—but I was surprised by how much a few small changes transformed the space. Even with summer still lingering outside, the cottage was beginning to look a little different. I rather like the ritual of preparing a home for a new season. It doesn’t have to mean buying lots of things or redecorating everything. Sometimes it’s simply washing the blankets that have been tucked away, changing what sits on a table, bringing out a much-loved mug, filling a bowl with apples, moving a lamp, or noticing that the evenings now call for a candle instead of an open door to the patio. Perhaps that’s one of the things I appreciate about living with such distinct seasons again. There is always a gentle invitation to begin afresh. Nature changes around us whether we’re ready or not, and somehow it gives us permission to do the same—to edit, prepare, and decide what we want to carry forward with us. For now, though, I’m not quite ready to wish summer away. There are still dahlias to enjoy, afternoons to spend outdoors, and hopefully a few more cups of tea on the patio before the blankets and candles take over completely. I’m rather enjoying this space in between—the last pages of summer with just the faintest hint of autumn around the corner. As I sit here writing this letter to you, the rain is falling outside and the candle on my dining table—the same table where so much of The Measured Life is created—is lit beside me. I find myself feeling incredibly grateful: for this home I’ve grown to love, for what The Measured Life has become, and especially for this community of people on the other side of the screen, whom I get to sit down and write to each month. When I began sharing my life from this cottage, I could never have known quite what would grow from it. Your messages, comments, stories and kindness have turned The Measured Life into far more than something I simply create from home. There is a real sense of connection here, and I don’t take that for granted. So, wherever you’re reading this, thank you for being part of it. I hope these final days of summer bring you a few beautiful moments worth noticing—and perhaps a sense of anticipation for the season ahead. Sending love, Clare
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