Did summer refill your resilience bucket?
By Leni Spooner, creator of Between the Lines.
This summer reminded me that freedom isn’t always about how far we travel, but how deeply we root ourselves in the places right outside our doors.
Summers are special in Canada. The days stretch long, the skies are impossibly blue, and the world turns intoxicatingly green. I spent this one doing what so many of us did: staying close to home, making the garden and nearby conservation trails my refuge.
Strangely enough, it was also one of my most productive seasons. Between lazy mornings with a thermos of coffee and afternoons of butterflies, birdsong, and cloud-watching, my laptop quietly filled with pages of notes, drafts, and research. Looking back, I’m astonished at the body of work that emerged from days that felt wickedly, decadently lazy. Inspiration surrounded me: in the garden, at the market, along the lakeshore.
Like many Canadians, my summer plans shifted. With travel south of the border off the table, and many domestic destinations crowded thanks to the PM’s Canada Strong Pass, the local commons took centre stage. I’ll admit, I felt conflicted. The patriotic Canada Strong Pass and “Vacation in Canada” movement stirred a swell of pride in me—clear proof that so many were keeping their vacation dollars here at home. At the same time, I’m not one for crowds, and it was jarring to find my usual spur-of-the-moment haunts booked solid for the season. So this summer, local markets, trails, and quiet conservation spaces became my haunts—and I don’t regret it for a moment. In fact, I plan to make it a habit. Local life has a way of grounding us in a season that always passes in the blink of an eye.
A few years back, we spent a weekend up in Collingwood during late apple season. I came home with bushels of the best apples I’ve ever had, along with jars of wildflower honey and an assortment of jams, preserves, and sauces that lasted nearly the whole year. That trip reminded me that exploring local and local adjacent doesn’t mean settling for less—it often means discovering more than we expected.
Now fall is upon us again. I’m dusting off my indoor office, but still lingering outdoors as long as the warmth lasts. I know the annual rhythm: chores pile up, days shorten, and Ottawa reawakens. Along with the harvest and turning leaves comes a less welcome ritual—discordant Question Period soundbites and the partisan theatre of Parliament.
This year, I expect the volume will be turned up even higher. As economic shocks ripple through trade and geopolitics, tensions are already rising in provinces and municipalities. We’ll hear inflammatory rhetoric from both government and opposition benches in Ottawa, soundbites designed to divide rather than inform. The spectacle may feel louder and sharper than usual, and it will test our collective patience—and our resilience.
That’s why I think of summer not just as a season of beauty, but as a time to refill my resilience bucket. The grounding rituals of gardening, markets, and local wanderings aren’t just indulgences. They are fuel for the long Canadian year ahead—antidotes to the noise that creeps back into our national conversation every fall.
Writing, as always, will take the lion’s share of my time. And when travel is curtailed, I’ll keep travelling through words. But I’ll carry with me the lesson of this summer: that freedom and resilience are found less in far-off journeys than in the grounding, sustaining places just outside our doors.
This fall, I plan to make the season of harvest a true celebration of all things Canadian. I’ll be stocking up on as many Canadian-grown and Indigenous foods and goods as possible in the lead-up to my annual winter semi-hibernation (nothing in me loves snow and cold). With grocery costs expected to rise further, this feels less like a quaint tradition and more like a practical step. A well-stocked pantry and freezer are a hedge against the uncertainty of both winter weather and economic shocks.
Thanks to the wonderful Substack community I’ve found here, I’m armed with a long list of Canadian products, services, and shopping tips. My hunter-gatherer instincts will be laser-focused, and my pantry well-stocked with the plenty of fall. Those reserves will sustain me through the winter months, as I chase down facts and context to share with you—a measure of calm and understanding we can all draw from when the noise outside gets loud.
As I move into fall with a well-stocked pantry and a head full of notes, I carry the lesson that resilience is built in the everyday spaces we tend. I’d love to know what filled your bucket this summer. What rhythms, rituals, or unexpected joys will you carry forward into the season ahead? Drop a thought in the comments—I’ll have a fresh cup of coffee at hand while I read. ☕️
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About the Author
Leni Spooner is a Canadian writer, researcher, and civic storyteller. She is the founder of Between the Lines | Kitchen Table Politics, a longform publication exploring how policy, economics, food systems, and everyday life intersect. Her work blends historical context with present-day analysis, helping readers see the deeper patterns that shape Canada’s choices — and the lives built around them.
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