Come in and stay awhile....
The seasons of Motherhood
I will never forget this September day, it was seasonally warm with an early morning and late afternoon nip in the air the kind that comes when Autumn is knocking on Summer's door. A day where a glimmer of magic occurred in the simplest of motherhood moments. A day where I had all four children to myself, along with my mum for company. Back in those early days of having four under 10 and a jigsaw piece of time in my motherhood journey that holds some of my fondest memories.
Picture the end of the summer holidays, a summer that didn't particularly stand out in my mind apart from this day. I had that feeling, the one you used to get as a child at the end of a long summer break. The feeling that the days are slipping from underneath you, just like a sand timer would...the spontaneity and freedom of your time are coming to a close, along with the waning warmth from the sun.
We headed onto a quieter end of the beach and sat close to the bottom of some concrete steps, as only an old-fashioned seaside trip would have it. Nowadays I would head furthest away from the steps at the beach but early motherhood days with four meant a ladened down buggy with changes of clothes for an unpredictable Lancashire coastline.
I remember the simplest and most wholesome details of this day, like a Shirley Hughes storybook. The gentle wind blew the brim of Florence's white, broderie anglaise sunhat, her wonderful gummy smile and her chubby curled legs which acted as a strong force for her to sit in the warm, sandy, seawater-filled puddles.
Turning to a curly-headed determined Teddy ferociously digging next to his brother, I watch Finlay offering words of encouragement and support like a responsible project manager in the making. The reassurance as a mother that a 7-year age gap will work out just fine.
Then there's Daisy just going between us all, in only a way Daisy can. In just her knickers with wet sloppy sand on every inch of her carefree body.
My mum and I engaged in conversation, in between soaking up their childhood with this final warmth of summer sun. Returning to higher ground near the car park. overlooking a beachside cafe adjacent to sand dunes and the open stretch of sand with a sprawling more industrial expanse of coastline. The sun lowers with the day and the realization that summer is coming to a close. 40 something days melt away to reveal a new season of routine and change. With the knowing of Autumn setting in and bringing cooler and darker evenings, I turn to my mum and say 'I think we should all say goodbye to summer, this could be the last day of the year' Just taking that minute to soak up what could be the last day of summer seemed so poignant at that moment.
A moment to slow down, nod to the season that's been, the season to come, accepting and bowing to Mother Nature. One point in time had ended and another was to begin. A moment I will hold in my heart for a long time.
Something intentional had come about from that moment of magic. The last day of summer went by and we swiftly entered autumn and what then became known as that beastly long winter. It didn't just mark the end of the summer it was also the end of a family chapter. Soon we moved from one county to the neighbouring, away from this windswept coastline. It also marked the start of a new way of thinking for me. Standing there thinking and talking out loud brought about a noticing in a more mindful way of days, seasons, nature and all its little in-betweens.
Maybe it was a pivotal part of me growing up as a person and a mother? An epiphany sent from all my senses that special day. A warm, magical moment from us all standing at the end of an enjoyable sandy-bottomed day.
I now continue to live my life seasonally and I'm forever building on simplifying, manifesting the wholesome and observing age-old traditions with a tweak from a chaotic household of six. Since that moment in Lytham, we have spent 4 years living in York documenting days through photos, videos and weekly blog updates. In the summer of 2022, we took the plunge to move to Devon, a county I left at age 4 but have many childhood family memories from. It seems only right as I trudge through hedgerow lanes (not far from the coast again) with my cockapoo whilst my four who are now all under 17 are in school that I come here to acknowledge another new stage of my life and push myself to share just a little bit more of me.
If you love tales of Devonshire lanes changing through the seasons, traditions and rituals fused with family life, and a mother adapting to being her slightly unknown self after more than a decade of round-the-clock parenting then I would love for you to stick around and see what unfurls here on Substack.