Brighter days ahead š·
Spring blooms, seasonal rhythms & a few thoughts on ambition
Hello hello! Welcome back to A Village Year. March arrived in a rush of mild spring air and sunshine, giving the signal that we are to emerge from our wintertime stupor; we must allow the sun to warm our cheeks, to dream of all that the year ahead will bring.
Let us not forget the trials and tribulations of winter, as spring unfoldsā¦
āTis the season of hot cross buns dripping with melted butter, windows thrown open to a soft breeze laced with the scent of freshly cut grass, the daylight hours stretching and straining just a few minutes longer every day. The gentle humdrum of life stirs again, a feeling of hopeful renewal, soft beginnings, pale blossoms and brighter days ahead.
When the sunlight is streaming through the windows and the air feels warmer than it has in months, itās all too easy to forget just how harsh and unrelenting the winter has been. There is, of course, a kind of magic to this dark and most beguiling of seasons, a cosiness and comforting ritual that I crave in midsummer as my patience with hot, muggy weather begins to wane, but it is often a season of quiet struggle, too.
The winters here in the countryside are a very, very different ball game to the semi-rural towns both James and I grew up in. Leaving the house is a feat of perseverance from November-March. We must rely on torches or, if itās a clear night, the stars to guide us from the village down to the lane; there are no street lights, very few pavements, and plenty of muddy ditches to fall in to. The cottage is kept warm by a steady supply of firewood, a hope and a prayer (the boiler is probably older than we are). Our porch is piled high with thick winter coats and unwieldy boots that are almost always covered in mud.
Winter is, at its worst, inconvenient, underwhelming, exhausting, draining. It demands all of our resources and gives very little back. But at its best, it is a season of small joys. Mundane, every day moments become acts of love. āBe careful, itās icy out,ā āIāve made dinner, itās on the stove,ā āIāve left the porch light on for you.ā Our village community is never closer than in the deep midwinter, when we must hold on to each other and show up for our neighbours even in the foulest of weather.
Although the winter is challenging in more ways than one, it is wondrous to see these seasonal shifts happening in front of our eyes, to feel and observe them so viscerally. As I write this, I can see next doorās spring blooms swaying in the breeze, daffodil and narcissi and hyacinth and primrose; the magnolia tree has been stripped of its dead branches, soon to be drenched in delicate pink petals.
Change is in the air. It feels rather lovely to watch it all unfold, even as I refill my hot water bottle for the umpteenth time and wrap the blanket tighter around my goose-pimpled limbs.
A word on ambitionā¦
In my work as a freelance social media manager, I cross paths with extraordinary women who have achieved extraordinary things every day. These women have founded their own brands, created and manufactured products, written award-winning books, created chart-topping podcasts; they are determined and steely and courageous, never afraid to put their hearts on the line or show their vulnerability, and they have taught me a great deal about what ambition means to them.
Am I ambitious? When I reflect on my own career, I see ambition there, in the way I have built my business, formed connections and relationships, invested my creativity and my heart into every project. Iām not the one launching the brand or hosting the podcast, but Iām there behind the scenes, making stuff happen.
Much like success, I think thereās more than just one version of what it means to be ambitious - and it is often at odds with the version that society deems acceptable or desirable, the one that we see plastered over billboards and fetishised on TV and in films. In those fictional worlds, it feels relentless, ruthless, destructive, driven by a need for control or power. It lives and breathes in boardrooms and high rise office blocks. It is exclusively for people who are hungry for success, who have dreams that are deemed big and bold and brave enough, who will do anything, sacrifice anything, to achieve them.
I suppose my question is: can ambition exist in smaller, understated ways, too? Can we be ambitious for our gardens, our hobbies, the creative things we do that never make any money, only joy? Can it simply be a quiet determination to build a life, a career, a sense of self that feels true and fulfilling and good?
Iām not sure what the answer is, but I do know that I have a zest and ambition for life in my thirties, a self-assuredness that I certainly didnāt have in my twenties, and that feels like something of a breakthrough for me.
What do you think? Iād love to hear what ambition means to you, what it feels like, how you cultivate it or if you reject it in your own life.
Thank you so very much for reading! I hope to see you next time.
L x
It resonates with me that seasons that come to pass are erased from my memory. It is like as soon as the hardship ja other I forget that it ever existed. I recently finished east of Eden and John steinbeck reflects on the same idea! And curiously enough also about ambition. My point of view is that it would depend the definition you have of ambition. Yes we have embedded in our beliefs that ambition = power = greed. But I believe that the choice we made while chasing this dictates the output. I love reading success stories for me is very inspiring and helps me see what is also possible for me.
Your thoughts on ambition really resonated with me. I've always said I want a slow AND expansive life, and I genuinely believe it's possible to have both :) Happy spring to you! Excited to see it unfold at the cottage.