Summer 2026

So another solstice rolls by. We developed a tradition in our house that we burn the old Christmas tree on the solstice and wow, do dry Christmas trees burn well! I really do find that time seems to go faster as we get older. Days become like hours. Weeks become like days. Months become like weeks, and so on and so forth. I heard a theory once that suggests that our experience of time is relative to how long we have been alive. This explains why the summer holidays when we were children seemed to last an eternity. Six weeks is a much longer period of time for somebody who’s only been around for ten years, as opposed to somebody who’s been around for fifty.

I noticed my first autumn leaf turning this week. I can’t say I was sad to see it. Autumn has always been my favourite season. Every summer that I can remember, I just can’t help myself looking forward to what’s just around the corner. But we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves. We’ve still got most of the summer left. We’ll be off on holiday, I think France this year, and probably a week in Scotland too if we’re lucky.

Living out here in the hills on the edge of the countryside, the seasons seem to be somehow more present than they are in the city. The recent spell of stifling weather made me feel very glad that I don’t live in London anymore. Don’t get me wrong, it was still uncomfortably hot, but somehow there’s always a bit of a breeze when you live in the Pennines.

The leaves on the trees in the Ryburn Valley are all in full leaf, despite the fact that a few are beginning to turn already. I try to take as much advantage as I can of the dry weather to get out into the woods and up onto the moors. It’s just such a lovely thing being able to escape whenever I want. Another sign of early autumn that I can’t help but notice is the fulsome blackberry blossom that’s pouring forth from every hedgerow. I love to see the pinkish purple tinge on the white leaves that promises the juicy blackberry months before they arrive. The kitchen cabinets are groaning with empty washed jam jars, just waiting for the right moment and the annual jam making session. As I get older, these seasonal traditions just seem to make more sense to me. I’ve been adopting all the things that my poor late mother used to do but is no longer here to do. I’ve started making marmalade in January, Pancakes in February and Hot Cross buns for Easter in late March or early April. Not much happens in the summer apart from possibly a bit of elderflower gathering to make cordial. The real action starts with the blackberry harvest. I can remember being dragged out as a child to pick the hedgerows around Heslington outside York. Luckily there are many large bramble bushes to be found all around these parts. I’ll take the kids if they’re up for it, otherwise I like to do it on my own. Last year I managed 38 jars of Blackberry jam in total which wasn’t a bad tally.

So, let’s make the most of summer while we can, because autumn is not far away.