The Rituals That Mark a Season

There is something about opening up a summer cottage that feels less like a task and more like a ritual.

This past week, my husband Steve and I spent our days opening up the cottage for the season—unpacking, grocery shopping, planting flowers, and slowly bringing life back into a place that holds so many memories for us.

Every year, it feels familiar.

And every year, it feels exciting all over again.

There is a rhythm to it that I have come to love. The first grocery trip. Deciding which flowers to plant. Sweeping away the dust of winter while imagining warm summer nights, coffee on the porch, boat rides, long conversations, and the simple joy of being outside again.

As neighbors begin arriving for the season, there is an excitement that is difficult to explain unless you have experienced it yourself. Even though we see one another throughout the winter, summer feels different. There is an energy to it—a shared understanding that this special season has finally arrived.

People stop by each other’s porches for impromptu cocktails. Conversations happen outside instead of rushing from place to place. There is more lingering, more laughing, more simply being together.

And this year, I have found myself trying to pay closer attention to all of it.

Not just the big moments, but the work itself. The flower planting. The organizing. The preparation. The familiar routines that could easily begin to feel ordinary if we let them.

Because the truth is, these moments are not ordinary.

They are part of a life.

In my work, I spend a lot of time thinking about what matters most to people at the end of life. And one thing I come back to again and again is that it is rarely the grand or impressive moments people hold closest.

More often, it is this.

The traditions. The people. The places that became home over time. The small rituals that quietly shaped a life and connected us to one another.

It has reminded me that living well is not always found in extraordinary experiences. Sometimes it is found in fully appreciating the season you are in while you are still in it.

The people gathered around you.
The work that makes a place feel cared for.
The porch conversations.
The flowers planted with hope for a beautiful summer ahead.

These are the moments that become memories.

And perhaps part of living with intention is recognizing that while they are happening—not only after they are gone.