There’s a certain tenderness to butter yellow —
not quite sunshine, not quite cream.
It sits somewhere in the middle, like morning light through linen curtains or the center of a daisy held by small hands.
This summer, I didn’t plan to fall in love with a color.
But slowly, and sweetly, it began appearing everywhere —
a gingham pouch resting on woven jute,
a ruffled lounge set folded with care,
the curved frame of a bicycle glinting under the sun.
Even my bathwater, surrounded by floating petals, seemed to carry the hue.
Butter yellow is not loud.
It whispers — gently, consistently —
reminding me that softness is still allowed in the heat of summer.
That joy doesn’t need to be bright to be felt.
In My Home
I found myself reaching for pieces that mirrored calm:
off-white bedding embroidered with quiet flora,
woven robes hanging like sunshine against the wall,
a cotton towel, freshly laundered, draped over the tub.
There’s comfort in repetition —
when every day is filled with the same quiet tones,
there’s less noise, fewer decisions, more peace.
In My Wardrobe
Butter yellow showed up in my wardrobe like a subtle companion.
A touch of warmth beside soft neutrals.
It paired beautifully with oat, ivory, and natural textures —
making even the simplest outfits feel thoughtful.
And as a mother, dressing in something that feels gentle matters.
It’s one small way I return to myself.
In My Rituals
A slow bike ride.
Lying in the grass while my little one gathers blossoms.
A long soak in a flower-laced bath after the house quiets.
In these moments, I notice how color and emotion intertwine —
how a palette can anchor a season,
how butter yellow became the thread stitching peace into my days.
The Takeaway
Sometimes, it’s not about reinventing everything —
it’s about letting one small detail lead you into a softer way of being.
This summer, that detail was the color of butter.
And I followed it into calm.
