Simple Magic April, May, June
Welcome to a new blog feature – Simple Magic.
Recently, I noticed I only take photos that fit my blog or Instagram theme. While we’ve all levelled up from daily snaps of our breakfast - and sometimes it’s nice to experience things in the moment without the pressure to record - there’s still a part of me that misses capturing daily details.
I find a restorative enchantment in daily routines and nature. The brewing of morning tea. A drift of spring hawthorn over cobbles. Rearranging my desk at the end of the day.
Flicking through snapshots of such moments remind me that there is more to this life than work, productivity or ~adding value~. Slow down, observe and appreciate – it’s a simple magic that I often forget in pursuit of grander schemes.
Sharing them here is a way to preserve those moments, from the mundane to the joyful. Perhaps in sharing them you might find the simple magic in your days, too.
Let’s begin at the end of April. Eager for change, seeking wide skies and misty mountains, we drove north. As you can see, our quest for wild serenity was punctuated by coffee, shortbread and vegan sandwiches. I also called in at Fort William’s Highland Bookshop and was amazed to find them stocking a novel by an indie author. I held the book in quiet awe, silently dreaming whether my own novel would grace the same bookstand one day.
Back in the car we drove towards rainclouds and magic viaducts, eventually stopping for the night in Mallaig, where shore met sea. I had my first wine of the holiday, relishing the fact that my driving obligations were over for a few days. The conversation turned to wild-shaping gnomes and fiddle music drifted up the street from a raucous pub below.
My social life bloomed with the mayflowers. Still on holiday in early May, my phone photos tell me that this trip consisted of little more than walks in the hills strung together by food. Beer and Jarlsberg (the king of cheese) is suitable reward for 7 hours walking. Cake just because. Other foodie highlights include breakfast at Raasay house and Larchbox coffee. This was also the month I found myself an Editor for my novel, so I treated myself to beer in the sun.
Back home and writing sprints are made better with coffee in my new mug from The Silver Grasshopper – a reminder of Raasay. I allowed myself an artists’ date to the Dundee Uni degree show mid-month but failed to take any pictures of the art. There’s proof of sunshine in the form of an exceptional smoothie, though.
I turned 30 in May and went to Hobbiton to celebrate. On that day of all days – to paraphrase Bilbo - it was brought home to me that it is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life. Especially if that includes a mug of the gaffer’s finest brew.
May ends romantically, with a wedding in rural Aberdeenshire. A string quartet plays in the chapel, dried petals spiral on coiled hair and white silk. Peruvian pipes drift through the castle. We dance under glass-eyed wolves and deer, surrounded by ceremonial swords. Amid celebration and silliness, I am struck by how big events are over in a moment. And how, amid spectacle and grandeur, it’s the small, seemingly insignificant things that provide meaning. Heartfelt vows, a goodbye embrace, sunlight and dragonflies - these moments, impossible to capture on camera or phone, are the ones that sustain me.
June begins humbly – the dregs of a coffee cup and me spying on the dream cottage. There’s a deep metaphor here, I’m sure, if only I could find it.
Hope you enjoyed this tour of my camera roll. Let me know if you want to see more!