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There is something about summer that makes the whole house feel as though it has been let loose.

The doors are thrown open, the windows stay that way for as long as possible, and somewhere there is always a large pitcher of something cold waiting to be poured. Friends gather in the garden, food is piled onto platters and everyone helps themselves. Children run in and out of the house, music drifts through the open doors, and nobody seems particularly interested in keeping track of the time.

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For me, the real magic happens later.

The sun begins to drop, candles and oil burners start to glow, blankets appear on the grass and the party somehow becomes smaller and softer. The children are still playing somewhere in the dark, while the grown-ups settle down to chat, laugh and stay just a little longer.

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Summer smells of freshly cut grass, honeysuckle and jasmine in our courtyard. It sounds like music, laughter and, most importantly, the moment the swifts return home ... And these days, summer has become about something else too.Nature's Larder comes alive.

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The gardens and hedgerows become gloriously abundant, neighbours start turning up with offerings, and suddenly my kitchen is full of courgettes, berries, flowers and ingredients I've never quite looked at in the same way before.

I've found myself enjoying the season less for what I always knew to cook, and more for the curiosity of discovering what I can do with what is growing around me.

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So summer, for me, is a little bit of all of that.

Open doors. Full tables. Bare feet. Glowing candles. Swifts overhead. And a kitchen full of possibilities ...And preferably, a very large pitcher of something cold. 🍹