A Quiet Courtyard Summer

The seasons have a way of teaching us what we need to know…if we let them. After sharing reflections on our move and the final chapters of Seasons of Home, I find myself standing at the doorway of summer, both literally and figuratively. And what I see just beyond the threshold is something simple, peaceful, and surprisingly freeing.

When we moved into our new townhome, I let go of the large garden beds I once tended. I wondered whether I’d miss them… those full summer blooms, the soil on my hands, the tending and trimming and watering. But what I’ve discovered instead is the kind of beauty I didn’t expect. A quieter one. A courtyard and a small deck, dressed, not in lush garden beds, but in a mix of faux and real plants… Intentionally simple, and just right for the life I’m living now.

The courtyard, with its tall walls and dappled sunlight, feels a bit like a hidden nook in a novel. I’ve tucked in a few real potted plants, but the stars of the show… though I don’t say this loudly… are faux. They’re from Martha Stewart’s line and so realistic that even I sometimes forget they don’t need watering. And that’s exactly what I love about them. They look alive. They ask for nothing. They bring joy without demands.

This little courtyard has become my favorite kind of welcome. It’s the space I walk through each morning with coffee in hand. It’s the place. I passed when the sun is just starting to stretch and the air is still cool. And more than anything, it’s a gentle reminder: things don’t have to be complicated to be beautiful.

So this post is a small invitation… one I’ll extend more of in the weeks ahead. An invitation to a quieter summer. A slower, sweeter rhythm. One with room for coffee and contemplation, for music and small joys, for creativity without pressure.

I hope you’ll join me for this new season. No garden gloves required.