The health benefits of early morning sunlight are well-reported but I would like to suggest that the twilight hours are just as important for the soul.
I have missed the enveloping summer evenings of late — the feeling of merging into the still, violet air; watching the last vestiges of sunlight burn bright on glass and brick; and hearing the clinks of cutlery with conversation as the neighbours dine outdoors.
Over the past three years, my view of the night sky has been eclipsed by the needs of my young children who often wake (and wake often!), requiring reassurance and assistance to go back to sleep. And so I peel myself away from the dreamy half light and retreat to the darkness of bedrooms with blinds down and curtains drawn.
Yet, during a week of long days navigating the works on our house, alongside responding to the needs and desires of a one and a three-year-old (of which there are many!), I grasped ten minutes of alone-time and ventured out into the garden after sunset to be reminded at once of the magic of a midsummer’s eve.
Stepping through the back door, my breath slowed, the quiet calmness of a lilac sky cooling my overstimulated body and brain. Being out there at dusk, I noticed a new phase emerging from the ground.
The first flourish of roses is dying back allowing other things to shine, like a changing tide — the scent of lavender is gathering; Hydrangea buds are tinged with the beginnings of pink; and glittering Astrantia flowers, (referred to as 'stars that have fallen to Earth' in old folk tales) are bursting forth.
The wisteria petals on the balcony have all but fallen away, whilst the leafy tendrils have wrapped themselves tightly around the imposing scaffolding structure, adorning and softening the robust metal poles.
The garden is like another room; not just for growing things but a place to sit alone and simply observe. Although it is far from perfect and certainly requires my attention; urgency and overwhelm dissipate there. The list of things to do could go on forever, but even in this heat, there is a slower pace and the garden gives me some grace — things can usually wait until the morning.