Mid-Summer: A Season of Fullness, a Question of Enough…

Nature doesn’t hold back in summer.
She’s not careful. Not strategic.
She flowers, she feeds, she gives.

The days are long, the light abundant. The garden is in full swing.
Tomatoes turning red, bees drunk on pollen, courgettes appearing overnight.
It’s all happening, and happening fast.
There’s no waiting for permission. No hesitation.

This is the season of action, and I’ve been in that energy too.
The last few months have been full: projects, momentum, movement.
The joy of doing, of growing, of pushing things forward.

But now, as the fruit begins to ripen, I’m pausing, not to stop, but to reflect. To ask:

What am I growing? And for who?
What am I tending, and what needs tending next?

Because not everything that grows is nourishing.
Some things sprawl and take over.
Some fruits are tempting, glossy, sweet, fast-growing, but leave me hollow.
And I’ve felt that pull lately.
To measure myself by what I’ve achieved. To say yes when I’m already full.
To believe that success looks like more: more income, more recognition, more output.

But the garden reminds me otherwise.

What if success is about reciprocity not accumulation?
What if it's less about what I can harvest,
and more about what I contribute to the ecosystem I'm part of?

Lately, I’m coming back to some deeper measures:

• Am I giving more than I take?

• Am I tending relationships with myself, with others, with the land?

• Am I checking in with my whole self not just the part that gets things done?

• Am I resisting the fruits of status, productivity and performance,
  when what I really need is connection, rest, shared meaning?

There’s nothing wrong with growth.
But in a regenerative system, growth feeds something beyond itself.
It gives back.
It sustains.

So I’m asking myself gently,
What kind of fullness I want to build my life around.
And what it means to be well-fed, together.