Going on Summer Break

A few summery things + a summer Substack break

Summer rises to its high noon, and I am sick with love for the lake and the sun and the bloomed woods. Every chance I get, I put myself among the green and the blue, and yet it is not enough.

Already, July draws its drapes near, and I don’t want to miss anymore of this blink of a season simply because I overcommitted to tasks and projects that keep me indoors. So I’m taking a summer break from Substack.

Most of the time, Substack is a joy. It serves both as an escape and a holding ground, and it will continue to be both. However, the writing calling to me right now requires deep work, thoughtful excavation, extended time and space for discovery, and then the courage to tell what I find. At the same time, the margins of my life remain slim; honoring that pull requires pausing something else.

This month, I found myself repeatedly unwilling to sacrifice daily movement or time outside with the birds and the river, with friends and family for the sake of a weekly Substack post, which is the only other item in my life with the flexibility to pause right now. This week, I finally gave myself permission to do so definitively.

I’ll be off of Substack until September, during which I’ll be using my freed-up time to work on larger writing projects (including an exciting freelance book one), making more time for community, and overall just pickling myself in the brine of Wisconsin summer.

Before I go, a few summery things that are making my heart sing.

The cucumbers are singing this year! We harvest several nearly every day, and I plan on eating them until I get sick of them. Once that day arrives, I’ll pickle the rest for winter snacks.

J is in the process of finishing up something special for me that I’ll share more about when I return in September. Think Little Free Library but with a *delicious* twist.

We’ve been going to the lake any chance we can get—even if just for an hour or two to take a dip and eat a snack. The ritual has sustained me through this busy season.

While the lake sustains me, dinner spreads with friends have kept my heart happy, especially those of the sandwich-building kind.

That’s it for now. May you accept this season and rise to meet both its challenge and healing with courage.

Much love to you all—