Life is beautiful
Sometimes it takes strangers on the internet to remind you
Hi, lovely, I’m Aimée, a heritage copywriter. Here, on my Substack, I share seasonal tales from my little corner of the Cotswolds. I write about food, books, seasonal living, countryside rituals and whimsical musings. Come on in, take off your boots, and cosy up by the fire. I’ll pop the kettle on.
I recently shared this picture over on my notes and so far it has garnered over 11k likes, 150 comments, and 130 reshares. I pass this beautiful old house covered in yellow rambling roses all the time - it is very much the fabric of my everyday life - but I didn’t quite see its beauty until I shared it with you, dear reader.
You see, the thing is that for the last six months I’ve struggled with what to write. I’ve been absent, floating around the fringes of a life. Yet the weather vane has turned, and the wind is blowing me in a new direction.
This “viral” (for me) post is proof that my life is beautiful, yes, and it is worth sharing on here. If it even makes you pause for a moment to - quite literally - stop and smell the roses. Thank you - truly - for still being here.
As we’ve already crossed the midsummer threshold and are barrelling through July, I wanted to take a moment to catch you up on some beautiful moments from February (when I left off writing) until the present.
February 〜 battening down the hatches
Coffee taken in the kirk-grey churchyard, waiting for the daffodils to appear / gleaming jars of orange marmalade on the village ‘stall on the wall,’ making morning crumpets sweeter / feasts with friends (rose trifle made by my lovely friend Joanna featured heavily / cosied up with the Marmalade the cat / wandering through rain-drench Cornish towns, and wondering what the year has in store / curledm in front of the fire with a pint, singing sea shanties with the band
March 〜 a road diverges in the woods
A first kiss under a lamplight in Oxford at 1am and the unfolding of something new / excellent bookshop finds / signs of spring on the canal and a swelling joy in my heart / a very wet duck-race in the village ford / tea and cake at the farm to celebrate lambing / picning in the long barrow bluebell
April 〜 a bursting back into this brilliant life
Walking from Stroud to the Slad Valley, in search of the spirit of Laurie Lee and a very good pint / Tulips, tulips everywhere / dining alfresco on my friend’s barge / rediscovering my passion for bread & pastries in a converted chapel in Frome / the first hot days spent cooling off by the riverbank / suddenly & unexpectedly, falling in love amongst the honey-hued stone buildings
May 〜 a quickening, a blooming
A posh exhilaration and thunder of hooves at Badminton Horse Trials / evensong in Oxford 〜 fingertips brushing another’s / a new house with the view (my father’s) / the sea, the sea / wandering through manor houses of my childhood / wistera hysteria
June 〜 lingering in the light
Dressing up as my favourite Royal for a party (Anne Bolyen, of course) / the riot of colour and smattering of joy at the village fete / celebrating love / crushing hard over vintage cars during a deluge of rain / wandering through long grass with M for plates of fried courgette flowers and sardines / the jingle-jangle of Morris dancers outside the window
I am so pleased to have shared my six-monthly catch-up with you. I hope to be back soon with more Cotswoldy loveliness.
With love,
Welcome back, it’s a pleasure to see it x
What a gorgeous, sensory exhale of a post, Aimée. Sometimes we get so used to our everyday paths that we need the eyes of others to remind us of the magic right in front us, like that stunning house with the yellow roses.
I completely resonate with that feeling of floating on the fringes for a while and then finding the wind blowing you in a beautiful new direction. Thank you for sharing these fragments.