Just a handful of shots with this little man on the farm tonight. Am backlogged and should be sharing those images piling up but humor me. It's a late September sunset with a boy who is so very nearing the end of little boyhood and moving into middle boyhood. So that's where I am tonight, trying to freeze these moments of my last "little" boy.
There was a question this week about how our school days normally run. I have been working on a summing up, but haven't found a minute to write it. Things like this complicate…
The first of our two away game athletes just left for the weekend. When you live in Europe, an "away" game involves a passport, a ferry crossing, a 15 hr bus ride, and three forms of currency. We gathered all that plus snacks, clothes, uniforms, and stuff to do en route. However, our sleeping bags (circa 2000ish and yellow and turquoise : )) were deemed too girly/embarassing/uncool in some way and a small person (by all accounts it was "not Me" who was responsible) managed to change the combination for the brand new duffle bag lock. It's ok though. Every time we do this, it will get easier.
It reminded me of a song I listened to the other night:
And like a newborn baby
Don’t be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk
Sometimes we fall
…so
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live!
Our days are a lot like this. Mostly going the way we hope they will. Sometimes not. We just put on our game face and give it our best shot. (insert fumble analogy here) Then we do it again the next day. And the next day. And the next day.
It's all good. : )
St. John's church sits nestled among high coastal meadows by the sea. The weather was rather bleak the whole ride there. The rain let up just as we arrived. My husband went to scope out the trail to decide if it was an ok idea yet. While he did that I was was able to check out the church and cafe a bit. And convince a boy he could ask the cafe people directions to the restroom. It's the little victories in life. ; )
I have been wanting to share this breathtaking bit of Cornish coast, but day after day gets swallowed up in sports and grading quizzes and sounding out phonics and practicing cursive capitals and walking my daily miles – which is all pretty cool as well. And I pictures of all that too. : ) It finally came together tonight though and it was so much fun to sit and sigh over these again.
Sandymouth, you stole my heart.
"All gardening is landscape painting."
William Kent
I have wanted to snag a picture of a local farmhouse which is being rethatched this summer. The house stands right alongside a busy road however so while we get a good look at it every time we drive by there is no good place to pull over. Problem solved when riding with my husband the other day. He even turned around so I could try again from another angle. You know, like hanging out of the vehicle. : )
So, just a little English coolness because a person doesn't see that everyday.
A pullback showing how very right on the road the house now is. And how absent the idea of "shoulder" is….
Growing up the only connection I made between autumn and spiders was Halloween and that mainly due to decorations. In England, the spiders are impossible to miss come fall. While out walking at dawn the other day the dew showcased all the webs we might have missed later in the day.
Turning around you can see the little pockets of white webs laying all across the lawn. One young woman who still lives at home is sticking to the concrete til the first hard frost…
Yep. No words can explain the pure joy of pulling food right off the plant. No words necessary to explain their reaction….
After which the who-can-catch-a-berry-by-mouth game commenced.
May I present the winner….
This has been home-away-from-home during my absence in this space lately. Mornings spent reading with steaming mugs nearby. Days spent hiking. Evenings full of exploring all the nooks and crannies of the eco-friendly farm which surrounded us.
Our host was a fascinating man with a heart for adventure. Quintessentially British, he sported a mop of curly untamed ginger hair and wore a button down shirt with rolled sleeves, glasses, and belted trousers tucked into gum boots. He welcomed our crew enthusiastically and showed the children all the possibilities waiting for them on the farm – bikes, badminton, ponds, and a real treehouse. He explained why the farm was a proper nature reserve and not just a vacay spot. He then showed us where the best hiking was and where to find the ponies I had my heart set on seeing.
Before embarking on the guest farm adventure he had spent many years in Africa as a safari guide. We swapped stories of travel and military life. He had fond memories of US Marines who shared music and cola and conversation in a far away place in the days before computers and ipods. His feet are planted on English soil again but he said Dartmoor was his wild. I get that. I need my wild too and we found it on this trip for sure, thanks to his maps and inside tips.
(just looking – we didn't eat them)
And now it's midnight and the day starts early here. I hope yours are also full of fresh air and wet boots.
Into the orchard this week. It is much cooler than last year this time which makes for a far more pleasant job of picking. If it was warmer we would be fighting the wasps which devoured the fruit right on the trees last year. There are two varieties of plums in great abundance – a red and blue tree. Which of these many English varieties is anyone's guess. I am always amazed at all the things I don't know. How many fascinating things there are to know.
Starry Sky Journal 