There are weekends when you get to Sunday evening and wonder where all the time went. And then there are weekends when you look around, see everything you’ve accomplished, and feel an unexpected sense of happiness and satisfaction. This has been one of those weekends, filled with activity, creativity and a growing sense of excitement about what lies ahead.
My kitchen has been a hive of activity. I’ve baked cheesy herb muffins and a loaf of German Bierbrot, made with Früh Kölsch from Köln (of course!) and caraway seeds. I’ve also prepared big batches of chicken ragù and chicken risotto, ready to portion and freeze. The next couple of weeks are going to be particularly busy, and I know there will be evenings when I arrive home too late, and probably too tired, to cook a meal from scratch.
So I’ve been preparing for those evenings in advance, making sure that even on the busiest days, I can come home to a good, homemade meal without having to spend another hour in the kitchen. There’s something immensely satisfying about knowing that future me will appreciate the effort I’ve put in this weekend.
But as much as I’ve enjoyed the cooking and baking, this weekend has been about far more than filling containers with food.
A little life returning to the garden
I also spent time outside, enjoying the spring sunshine, getting my hands into the soil and sowing seeds. Lots of seeds! Vegetables, herbs, salad greens and flowers that will hopefully encourage more bees and butterflies to visit my garden. I’ve sown a little from each packet, planning to stagger the remaining sowings over the coming weeks so that everything doesn’t mature at once. Of course, despite my best intentions, I may still find myself wondering what to do with an abundance of tomatoes, herbs or salad greens, but that’s a problem I’d be quite happy to have.
There were also two particularly lovely surprises waiting for me in the garden. My yellow snapdragons and chamomile have returned, looking wonderfully cheerful among the greenery.
I’d planted both just before my surgery in November last year. Then came the extreme heat at the beginning of this year, and I thought I’d lost them. Yet here they are, almost a year later, growing and flowering again. Seeing those delicate flowers thriving after everything they’ve been through gave me an enormous sense of happiness.
Perhaps it’s because they remind me that even when a garden appears to be resting, or struggling, there’s often more happening beneath the surface than we realise. Plants can be surprisingly resilient, and sometimes something we thought was lost simply needs the right conditions to flourish again.
Standing there in the sunshine, looking at those flowers and thinking about all the seeds I’d just sown, I felt an unexpected connection between what was happening in my garden and what has been happening in my own life.
Making space for what comes next
Over the last few days, I’ve also been busy with a different kind of preparation. I’ve been gathering, collating, organising and cataloguing the resources I’ve created, along with my ideas and projects, bringing together all those bits and pieces that have accumulated over time. It’s been a substantial undertaking, but a satisfying one, and there’s something wonderfully energising about seeing scattered ideas begin to take shape and become something tangible. I’ve been gathering, collating, organising and cataloguing the resources
As I’ve worked through everything, I’ve begun to notice a shift in how I’m feeling about the future. After all of last year, and everything that came with it, I have this growing sense that I’m standing at a doorway, ready to step into another chapter of my life.
For a long time, it felt as though parts of my life had been placed on hold. There were places I wanted to visit, plans I wanted to pursue, and ideas for my business that I’d been looking forward to developing. Surgery and recovery meant that, for a while, those things had to wait while I concentrated on getting well and finding my feet again.
Now, at last, I’m beginning to pick up those threads. Travel is back on the horizon (in a very short time, I’ll be up, up and away once more), my business plans are finding their way back onto the table, and ideas that have been quietly waiting in the wings are beginning to take shape. There’s a wonderful sense of anticipation in being able to think about these things again, not simply as distant possibilities, but as something I can actively work towards.
Yet something else has changed along the way, too.
Both a homecoming and a beginning
I’m not quite the same person I was before surgery. The experience itself, along with everything that came with recovery, has changed me in ways that I’m still discovering. And rather wonderfully, I’ve realised that I like this evolved version of myself.
There’s a lovely sense of familiarity in returning to the things that have always mattered to me, whether that’s travelling, developing my business, learning something new, volunteering, or pursuing the ideas that capture my imagination. But I’m approaching them with a perspective that I didn’t have before, and perhaps a deeper appreciation of the opportunities and experiences that life has to offer.
In some ways, it feels like a homecoming, a return to the interests, ambitions and activities that have always been part of who I am. At the same time, it feels like a new beginning because I’m bringing a slightly different version of myself along for the journey.
I’m not trying to reclaim an earlier version of my life or pick up exactly where I left off, as though the intervening months never happened. Those experiences are now part of my story, and they’ve helped shape the person I’ve become. What excites me is the opportunity to take everything I’ve learned, everything I’ve experienced and everything I still want to do, and carry it forward into whatever comes next.
I don’t have every detail mapped out, and I don’t particularly feel the need to. There are ideas to explore, plans to develop, places to visit and undoubtedly a few unexpected turns along the way. What matters most is that the enthusiasm and anticipation are there again, accompanied by a growing confidence in who I am and where I want to go.
And I’m genuinely happy about that.
Finding happiness in the everyday
Perhaps that’s why this weekend has felt so special. Nothing particularly extraordinary has happened, at least not in the way we usually think about extraordinary events. I’ve cooked, baked bread, planted seeds, spent time in the garden and organised a collection of resources and ideas.
Yet each of those activities has given me an enormous sense of pleasure, purpose and possibility. I’ve enjoyed the process as much as the results, whether it was watching the Bierbrot develop its golden crust, seeing the cheesy herb muffins rise in the oven, discovering the snapdragons and chamomile flowering again, or imagining what might grow from those tiny seeds I’ve scattered into the soil.
And perhaps that’s part of what has changed in me. I’m finding so much happiness in the ordinary moments, while also looking forward to the bigger adventures and opportunities that lie ahead.
The food in the freezer will nourish me during the busy weeks ahead. The resources I’ve organised will help me move forward with projects and ideas that I’m excited to pursue. And the seeds I’ve planted will, with a little luck, sunshine and care, grow into herbs, vegetables and flowers over the coming weeks and months.
Each of these things is, in its own way, an investment in the future, but they’ve also made the present rather wonderful.
Stepping into the next chapter
As the weekend draws to a close, I’m feeling pleasantly tired, wonderfully satisfied and surprisingly energised. The kitchen is quieter now, there’s food ready for the weeks ahead, and the garden is full of promise. My ideas and resources feel more organised than they did a few days ago, and I have a renewed enthusiasm for the projects and adventures waiting for my attention.
More than anything, I’m heading into Monday with a sense of happiness and optimism that feels particularly precious after everything that’s happened over the past year.
I think that’s what this next chapter is really about. Not simply getting back to normal, or returning to the life I had before, but embracing the life I’m creating now. It’s about rediscovering familiar pleasures, welcoming new possibilities and appreciating the person I’ve become along the way.
Those snapdragons and chamomile, flowering again after I thought I’d lost them, seem particularly fitting. They’re a lovely reminder of where I was when I planted them last November, and how much has happened since. And alongside them, there are now all those freshly sown seeds, waiting for their own opportunity to grow.
Some things are returning, others are just beginning, and there’s room for both.
I rather like that thought.
As I look ahead, I feel as though I’m stepping through that doorway with a sense of curiosity, excitement and genuine happiness about whatever comes next. There are places to go, dreams to pursue, ideas to bring to life and so many experiences still waiting to be enjoyed.
Life is for living, and I’m loving life.
