A long row of letterboxes. Afternoon tea served at three o’clock sharp. The hammock cushions are piping hot; on the other side of the fence, a horse snorts. A couple of elderly cousins are sitting in the cherry tree, spitting out stones. The scent of wild roses where the path is at its narrowest. When the thunderstorm rolls in, we’re sitting in the car. In the clear water, across a striped sandy bed, a solitary little crab scuttles about.
The best spot of the summer can be a treasure to return to, with memories piled one on top of the other.
But the opportunity to spend seemingly slower days in a summer paradise can, of course, also be viewed in the light of broader societal developments.
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