With the arrival of summer, and the crescendo of early December, we’ve been feeling eager and impatient for our free time. Here at Penney + Bennett, we’ve all been reminiscing on what comes and goes with this season, our hopes and dreams for the days off, for end-of-year celebrations and, if we’re lucky, a little more time spent with family and friends. We’ve put together a Penney + Bennett Summer Manifesto, a declaration of our love for summer, for its reminder to get outside and enjoy the buzz and lull and fullness of bright days. It’s a season of generosity, of spontaneity and of abundance; its gifts and mysteries are many, and we’re not taking them for granted…

This summer, we’re giving ourselves over to all the little things. This is what we celebrate in our manifesto.

Joy is waking on a summer’s day to the hot chirp of cicadas and dappled light dancing through the curtains. To the sound of laughter in the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee lingering in the hallway. It’s gliding around the house in an airy cotton robe. Pouring the coffee and putting on a feel-good song. Opening every window in the house, every door. Letting it all in, and out again. Satisfaction is a long sigh.

Sweet oranges eaten outdoors, before breakfast, juice dripping down your arms. A strange and dainty dance around the garden. Another cup of coffee, a plate of fruit, an omelette, made by someone beloved. A morning swim, the sting of salt, diving into the fray of crashing waves. Collapsing onto sand, resting your head on your arms. Squinting out into the sun. Feeling the rub of sand against your thighs. Picking yourself up, brushing off and ambling off somewhere distant. 

Then, lunch on the grass, under the shade of a flowering tree. A small ceramic bowl—the one with a small chip in the rim—overloaded with glossy cherry tomatoes. Savouring the brine of an oyster. Cracking a still-warm baguette, using it to mop olive oil, the last of the goat’s cheese. 

Reading a good book, letting it drift you away into reverie, and into the gentle lap of a long afternoon nap. Emerging later, slowly; drowsy and content, peeling away from soft linen sheets. Stretching yourself out like a cat. Grabbing an oversized straw hat, and heading back outdoors.

Parallel conversations, a game of cards. The gentle clink of ice cubes against glass. The crunch of cucumber. The wind in the trees. Peaches and cream. The insect symphony of night.

And at last, hot cheeks on cool silk pillowslips, enjoying a full-body exhaustion of the best kind, from a day spent with limbs moving, walking, swimming, dancing, loving, being out, about, all loud in the world. In the summertime.