What a Few Weeks in France Reminded Me About Slow Living

A few days ago, I found myself standing in the garden, looking across the fields behind our house.

The grass had just been cut. The evening was warm. The doors and windows were open. Everyone was doing their own thing. My husband was sitting by the pond. One of the children was stretched out on the patio. The other was inside with the patio doors wide open. The dog was wandering about, perfectly content.

And suddenly, I was reminded of another summer.

The year was 2014.

We had just returned from our first camping holiday in France.

The children were small. We had only recently begun holidaying this way. We spent that summer in paddling pools, chasing chickens around the garden, painting outdoors, eating meals outside whenever the weather allowed, and filling long days with simple activities.

Life looked very different then.

Yet standing in the garden this week, twelve years later, I realised the feeling was exactly the same.

And I think that’s because what I was really remembering wasn’t a particular holiday.

It was the feeling of slowing down.

Why We Love Going Away Early

One question I am often asked is why we choose to travel so early in the summer.

The answer is actually quite simple. We like quiet. We like unhurried places. We like campsites before they become busy and bustling.

We like being able to stroll to the bakery in the morning without queues, find a sunny spot by the pool, and wander through little villages at our own pace.

This year, because both children finished school at the end of May and I am currently on career break, we had the flexibility to leave early.

And I’ve realised over the years that I love beginning summer this way.

Instead of spending weeks waiting for a holiday to arrive, we go away first. We enjoy our adventure. We slow down. And then we come home with the whole summer still stretching out before us.

There is something wonderfully calming about returning home in June and realising that summer is only beginning.

The Beauty of Familiar Places

This was our second year returning to the same area of France.

In the past, we often moved around and explored somewhere new each year. There is certainly excitement in that. But this year I found myself appreciating something different.

Familiarity.

We knew where the supermarket was.

We knew where to buy our morning baguettes.

We knew our favourite walking routes.

We knew the little towns we wanted to revisit.

There was no pressure to figure everything out.

No rush.

No stress.

We could simply settle in and enjoy being there.

Sometimes familiar places become special because they allow us to focus less on logistics and more on living.

The Things I Will Remember Most

When I look back on this trip in years to come, I don’t think it will be the big attractions that stand out most.

It rarely is.

Instead, I think I’ll remember:

Morning walks through the countryside.

Stopping at the boulangerie for fresh croissants and baguettes.

Long evenings wandering around the campsite.

Conversations around the table.

A quiet glass of wine while the sun was setting.

And, perhaps most unexpectedly, floating around the lazy river on pool noodles with my family.

Last year we loved that lazy river so much that when we got home I bought pool noodles on sale and stored them away all winter. This year we packed them into the car and brought them all the way back to France. Some of my happiest memories of the trip were simply drifting around in the sunshine, chatting, laughing, and doing absolutely nothing important at all.

Life is often lived in those little moments.

The ones that don’t look particularly remarkable at the time.

The ones that never make the itinerary.

The ones we almost overlook.

What Slowing Down Does to Creativity

One thing I have noticed about myself over the years is that creativity needs space.

When life is busy, I find it much harder to write, dream, create, or imagine. When my days are full of responsibilities, appointments, deadlines, and endless to-do lists, that creative spark tends to retreat into the background.

But something always happens when I slow down.

The first few days of a holiday are often spent unwinding. Settling. Trying to quiet my mind.

Then, little by little, ideas begin to return.

This year was no different.

Ideas for blog posts. Ideas for printables. Ideas for projects around the house. Ideas for the months ahead.

By the end of the holiday I had pages of notes in my phone and notebook. The inspiration wasn’t forced. It simply arrived when there was finally enough space for it to do so.

Perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts of slowing down.

Not productivity.

Not achievement.

Space

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Returning to What Matters

Another thing I noticed while we were away was how naturally certain habits returned.

Walking.

Reading.

Talking.

Being outdoors.

We walked every day. Not long hikes or ambitious adventures. Just simple walks. The sort of walks where you notice wildflowers, village gardens, and changing skies.

I also found myself reading physical books again. For years I have listened to audiobooks while driving, working, and walking. I still love them. But there was something lovely about sitting quietly and reading an actual book for an hour in the sunshine.

The holiday reminded me that many of the things that make me happiest are surprisingly simple.

A walk.

A book.

A conversation.

A cup of tea.

A beautiful view.

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Summer Is Still Ahead

Coming home this year reminded me very strongly of that summer back in 2014. Not because life looks the same. It doesn’t. My children are now teenagers. One will be seventeen in a few weeks.

The paddling pools and water guns have long since been replaced by different interests and different routines.

Yet the feeling is surprisingly familiar.

We’ve had a wonderful holiday.

We’ve made lovely memories.

And somehow, despite all of that, summer still feels as though it is only just beginning.

There are still weeks ahead of us.

Long evenings.

Garden projects.

Walks.

Books.

Barbecues.

A few more little adventures.

And plenty of ordinary days in between.

I don’t have the whole summer planned.

In truth, I’m still finding my rhythm again after being away.

The children are too.

But that’s okay. There is no rush. There is time.

And perhaps that’s the biggest lesson France reminded me of this year.

We don’t need to fill every moment.

We don’t need to rush into the next thing.

Sometimes it is enough to simply open the doors, step outside, and enjoy the season we are already in.

And right now, summer is waiting.

Chat soon,

Ciara x

PS You can also come and say hello on Instagram, where I share slow and intentional living, seasonal inspiration, cosy homemaking, family life with teens, and gentle everyday moments from Our Little House in the Country.

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