July has cast its warm, golden light across Grove Farm. After weeks without rain, the paddocks have taken on a honeyed hue - parched and glowing under the high summer sun. The air shimmers quietly in the heat and life slows in reverence to the season’s height.

Swallows are back, darting joyfully between farm buildings, singing their bubbling calls as they loop and glide in perfect arcs. They’re a constant presence now - sleek, quick, full of life-and I find myself pausing to watch them often. Doves are nesting in the guttering and the bantams are broody; summer in the Cotswolds is filled with new life. 

The flower borders are beginning to retreat, their earlier exuberance softening. In their place, the hydrangeas and the hollyhocks have taken centre stage. They’ve come into their own – billowing clouds of white blooms, their heavy heads nodding in the still air. There’s a quiet opulence to them, a grounded beauty that suits July’s steady warmth.

In the Garden: Heat-Honed Harvests

In the kitchen garden, the signs of the season are everywhere. The potato plants, once lush and green, are beginning to die back, their job done beneath the soil. They’ll stay there, tucked safely in the dry earth, until we’re ready to lift them in the Autumn, one of our favourite seasonal tasks, digging and storing them to store for the Winter. 

The artichokes are tall and proud now, stretching skywards like sculptures. Their crowns have swelled in the sun, each one a spiky, architectural marvel that’s both edible and ornamental. Alongside them, something a little unexpected: the first anemones, coaxed into bloom early by the heatwave. Their delicate, tissue-thin petals look almost too fragile for this sun-baked month, but there they are - stark, elegant, and full of promise.

We’re still eating from the garden every day; tomatoes are beginning to colour; courgettes seem to double in size overnight. Salads are built from crisp lettuce, fresh herbs, and the first green beans.. On hot days, we keep it simple - cool salads with baby courgettes, chopped nuts and peaches from the market, topped with pulled burrata and a squeeze of lemon. Served with good olive oil and torn sourdough, it’s everything you want to eat when the heat has taken over.

And the eggs! The hens are in fine form, laying faithfully through the heat. Each day’s collection comes with a small diversion: persuading one broody hen that no, she cannot nest forever. It’s a gentle standoff we’re both rather enjoying.

Cut Flowers & Quiet Joys

Though the borders are quieter now, we’re still bringing flowers into the house. Long stems of hydrangea and seed heads and grasses, which catch the light beautifully in the late afternoon. There’s a new rhythm to arrangements in July – more texture, more movement, a shift from the structured to the wild.

Gathering them feels different too. Less frantic. Less about catching blooms at their peak, more about celebrating their transformation - how beauty continues, even as the season matures.

Leaning Into Summer

This is the pause before it all begins again.

The last few weeks of school runs and early mornings are nearly over. There’s a quiet anticipation in the air - bags waiting to be packed, checklists half-ticked, the pull of the sea (or the hills, or simply somewhere new) just around the corner. 

We're preparing to leave for our own summer break soon, and as always, I’ll be bringing a few essentials that make all the difference. The Anemone Travel Set has become my perfect companion. A handbag-friendly Eau de Parfum - it’s a crisp, woody floral that’s perfect for freshening up whilst we’re out & about, paired with a delicately scented hand cream that really hydrates and soothes after a day of salty swims and sandy toes - I even pop a little on my feet each evening as its so hydrating and just the thing I need before slipping into a pair of sandals. These are the small rituals I love to take with me, a simple luxury that soothes, softens, and somehow makes you feel completely put back together.

Soaking Up the Stillness

Right now, summer feels full and still. Not quite the peak of abundance, but everything is ripening, slowly. The days are long, the air is thick with heat, and time seems to stretch a little. It’s the kind of stillness that makes you slow down without even realising it.

So we’re leaning into that. Making time for slow lunches in the shade, pulling up a chair to watch the swallows swoop, and just letting the garden do its thing. There’s more to come, but for now, we’re soaking up this lovely warmth while it lasts.

with love,
Laura x