Late August, and this summer will not cease.
We feel the beating sun on our backs as we traverse the market, and it’s only morning. By noon, the sun turns relentless. We rush home through fields of gold to put our purchases in the coolness of the château cellar, and after lunch, it’s time to cool ourselves.
Rather than sweating our way around the estate, we’ve been taking mid-day naps in this season’s series of heatwaves. I’ve been struggling to develop a daytime snoozing habit, contrary to Thomas, whose eternal love for hammocks makes him a natural napper. I have no trouble sleeping at night, but put me in a bed during the day and I worry. My thoughts get too loud and take over. So instead I’ve been using this time to feed my creativity. I may not be sleeping, but I’m winding down. I go for a stroll and potter about, styling food and flowers, and marvel at how summer determines how I make choices about colour. Yellow, from warm and spicy to dazzling neon, is my current obsession.
Outside, sweltering silence is fed by the blistering rays of the sun. Californian poppies have seeded themselves on a terrace under construction, thriving in nooks and crannies. In the vegetable garden, capsicum and courgettes are in acid bloom. Outside, yellow is scorching. And too light-hearted for my frame of mind.
Inside, there’s a beautiful, more subtle light that enters through the curtains and brings calmness into the house. In a cozy corner of the living room I browse through books and magazines. I sip coffee and I write. In the silence of the flaxen light, everything I do is like a meditation, solitary and intimate. It’s an in-between stillness that invites me to look with different eyes and makes room for fresh thoughts. Inside, yellow is sheltering. Rich like saffron to heal my worrisome heart.