The summer calm I didn’t know I could feel.

Summer is summering, but the rains are back with a vengeance. That grey, moody kind of wet that doesn’t let you forget you’re in the UK.

Last week, I had my dramatic rom-com moment; running through the rain with a laptop in a bag I believed was waterproof. It wasn’t. The droplets weren’t your usual misty pinpricks either; they were full-on tropical splats. By the time I got home, I was soaked. My laptop, bless her, didn’t make it.

Technically, she started giving up after a water spillage a while back. I should’ve replaced her sooner, but life, people’s opinions, money… you know the drill. Now she’s officially retired, and in a panic-splurge move, I bought a new one. She’s sleek, responsive, and, praise be, has an actual working keyboard.

The break from my screen did something strange though.

I touched grass. Literally.

I weeded my space.

I walked to the garden centre; not just any garden centre, mind you, but one of those proper village ones that’s basically a small wonderland. The kind with a restaurant tucked in one corner, shelves lined with artisan crisps and homemade jams, scented soaps that smell like someone’s gran’s countryside kitchen, and candles that probably cost more than my weekly shop but somehow feel worth it. There were essential oil dispensers – I grabbed one and now my bathroom gives off this lavender-y smell each time I step in. I forget it’s this purple goodness I picked up. Quirky veggie crisp packets and sauces that transported me straight to the Cotswolds without leaving home.

I took my time looking at plants. Figured out which bag of soil I could carry home without breaking my back. Discovered there’s more than one kind of thyme (lemon thyme, I see you). Imagined roasting chicken with fresh herbs from my own pots.

This all started because I found rosemary growing by the side of the road. Questionable origins, sure, but I rooted them in a jar and they bloomed like teenage Groot. That tiny step led me down this herb spiral.

Before I knew it, I was dreaming of trellises covered in grapes and roses.

I had to reign it in.

Instead, I repotted what I could:

• Two thyme variants
• A little oregano
• A potted rose
• And Spanish salt & vinegar crisps from the artisan section that cost £3.25 (they were worth it)

The aquarium section nearly made me adopt fish. There was this koi pond where you could feed the damn things, and they wouldn’t stop opening their mouths and splashing everyone who dared get close. But keeping them in a tiny tank for my entertainment? Felt wrong. The bonsai trees looked like tiny wizened teachers, and the indoor hanging plants were so adorable I genuinely wanted to curl up underneath them like a cat. A terrarium might be more my speed. Something alive but grounded. Something that doesn’t mind my distractions.

On the way back, herbs and flowers in hand, standing near the motorway, I felt calm. Real calm.

I’ve been spiraling a bit lately after closing a big chapter in my life. But in that moment, I noticed the peace. And I believed I’d be fine.

I’m not a gardener by any stretch. But I’ve been surrounded by green lately. And it makes me want to stay closer to the earth.

Not like I live on Mars… Yet.

Maybe one day I’ll have a house and a garden.

For now, I sing to my plants when I water them. I ask them to grow for me. I beg the rose to bloom. so I can call her pretty. I tell the herbs to go full jungle mode so I can cut them and cook in roasts, soups, and anything else that tastes like warmth and a mouthful of joy.

What’s one unexpected thing you picked up this summer that lit you up?

I want to hear.

XOXO, CC