‘How’s your summer?’. It’s the greeting of the season, and one that always throws me for a loop. I grew up in a place where the seasons blend together, in a city known to experience what some call ‘four seasons in one day’. Summer was not really an event so much as something to be survived as we hoped the heat waves were not unbearable.

Since moving to BC I’ve learned to embrace the seasons which are pronounced, distinct, and significantly impact one’s day-to-day. Summer brings floating on the rivers and lakes, glorious sunshine and long days enjoying a landscape transformed by beautiful blooms.

It’s a different way of being, to experience the changing face of nature this way. I recently watched an episode of Apple’s Home featuring a pair of architects who had moved from the city to renovate an ancient homestead in the French countryside. He said, ‘you move to the countryside to feel time’. Do you feel time?

This has very much been the experience of my sabbatical. We speak of the ‘rat race’, our lives locked in capitalist cycles, work days, weekends, holiday sales. To step out of it, into an abyss of three months, is a shock to the system. What a gift, to have so much time. There is pressure to do something worthwhile, of course. But not productive, for that is just putting a different hat on the capitalism from which I’ve just escaped. So how to stretch it, to spend it wisely, to feel it?

One of the greatest shocks of becoming a parent is the way it changes time. It both shrinks and expands it, ‘the days are long and the years are short’, as they say. But it’s not just that, it’s impossible to explain. It feels different. As someone with a racing, busy mind, who thrives on doing, to sit and marinate in a pool of time and be present with a pre-schooler takes practice, patience. It is something I’ve been determined to do since he came along, and it’s been a fascinating journey.

Making this journey in the countryside has been a blessing. I feel so grateful each time I go for a walk in the forest. One of the things I missed most about BC when I moved back to Australia was the light. Up here, just shy of the 50th parallel, filtered by the rainforest, it has a completely different quality. To notice it is magical, to be able to see it change, to be conscious that each day is shorter than the last, and you really do feel that.

So that’s what I’ve done with my three months, embraced il dolce far niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. Of course, I’ve done a great deal, but mostly, I’ve lived outside the race. Standing still. Anchored as the current flows past, celebrating each gorgeous bloom in the garden and eating from its bounty, forest bathing. Is time a flat circle? It is liberating to surrender to it, for the time being.