There is a very distinctive beauty that only presents itself in the deep summer. When you walk out of the glare and heat and noise of a busy summer street and hear the heavy oaken door of the Parish Church thud behind you.
For me, it's the closest, tangible image I have known of the words of the psalms, "In the shadow of your wings I find refuge".
A cool, dark church envelopes you in that way. The silence settles on your whole being, both body and soul. You feel like you are suddenly in a safe and yet mysterious place. Which, of course, you are.
When you can suddenly remember with great clarity that, yes, "all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well"