People have been asking me recently what my plans are for the summer.
The answer is simple and, to some, surprising.
I don’t have a packed itinerary.
No plane tickets. No large family getaway. No color-coded schedule. No countdowns on the calendar.
Instead, I’m embracing a wide-open summer.
For the first time in a long while, having uncommitted days feels like a luxury rather than a missed opportunity.
There was a season when I might have felt embarrassed admitting that I had nothing major planned.
Friends and acquaintances were heading off on picturesque trips and ambitious adventures, and I used to compare my calendar to theirs. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking a fuller schedule equals a better life.
This year feels different, though. I’m choosing gratitude over comparison.
I’m grateful for the space this summer gives me.
Space feels liberating: room to breathe, to be present, and to follow small impulses that make life feel rich.
Space to:
- Focus on creative projects that excite me and help me grow.
- Enjoy slow, deliberate time with Elliott, without rushing from one thing to the next.
- Steal day dates with Darby—short, sweet escapes that don’t require planning weeks in advance.
- Bake when inspiration hits, whether it’s a simple loaf or an elaborate dessert.
- Visit Yocum on a whim and see what the day brings.
- Pack a picnic and set off for the afternoon, letting the road decide the destination.
- Stay home and savor a quiet day when that’s what feels right.
Nothing is set in stone, and that openness makes everything feel possible.
This summer, I’m after the simple pleasures.
Fresh strawberries. Sheet cakes to mark little celebrations. Long, unhurried morning walks. Day trips that begin on a whim. Backyard dinners where people linger and conversation stretches long past dessert. I’ve written before about the way food can create memorable experiences, and I still believe it’s true that gathering around a table makes ordinary days feel important.
I want to shape a summer that feels abundant even if the calendar looks empty.
Often the most vivid memories aren’t those we book months ahead; they’re the small, spontaneous moments we choose to make special. That’s why a casual dessert on a Tuesday or an unexpected visit can become a favorite memory.
For years I measured a summer by how much was scheduled. Now I count it by different measures.
Some of the best ways to measure a meaningful summer are:
- How often you said yes to something unplanned and delightful.
- How much time you spent with people who matter to you.
- How many ordinary days you managed to make feel special.
- How much peace you carried through the season.
That feels like a more honest, kinder way to judge a season.
There is a quiet luxury in not having every moment planned.
Waking up and deciding in the moment what feels good—work, rest, a walk, a project, or nothing at all—has a special value.
A meaningful summer doesn’t require crossing borders or filling a passport; it often requires the willingness to enjoy the life you already have and to notice the small joys inside it.
Maybe that looks like baking something thoughtful for the people you love. Maybe it’s inviting a neighbor over for coffee or saying yes to a spontaneous afternoon drive.
Grand plans aren’t necessary to create something beautiful. Sometimes the best gift is the freedom to choose, to pause, and to savor.
This summer, I’m intentionally leaving space for whatever feels lovely and true.
Sweet Wishes,
June