Our Sunday was slowly starting, and a warm sleepiness lingered in The Barn. A was snuggled under her covers, drowsily listening to her audio book, L was still sleeping and I was making thick, fluffy, whole wheat pancakes. Plain for L and spiced pear for A and I. The kitchen table was set with plates, maple syrup, cream, chopped roasted hazelnuts and extra slices of pear. Coffee scented steam drifted from the French press. There were two very important events happening today. A trip to the pumpkin patch and Jon returning back to us after a month visiting friends and family in the U.S. My little bubble of happy anticipation swelled in my stomach …

A menagerie of crochet creations has joined our family. Half way through L’s week of covid my parents stopped by with an amazing treasure chest, that was very kindly given to us by their close friends. The old well-travelled trunk is covered with train and shipping labels from its journeys between New Zealand, India and the U.K. in the 50s and 60s, when overseas travel was by passenger liner, rather than airplanes. L and I glanced at each other in excitement as we sat on the floor in front of this slumbering trunk. It reminded me of the trunk I would pack with my belongings for a term at boarding school. Yes, just like Harry Potter …

The glorious October sunshine radiating through our windows throughout the week felt at odds with the mood within our home. L spent the week bundled in blankets on the couch, while outside birds sang, the trees began to change colours and the sun shone. Being sick is no fun, but it always feels worse when the weather is beautiful. I started prising her off the couch, away from her crochet and audio books, to come and sit outside in the sun with me, just for a little …

She came home from her night away with school, shivering with cold and damp and a hoarse voice, but with lots of stories of the adventures she’d shared with her friends. Meanwhile, L had camped in the garden with a friend, sneaked into the castle at night and then succumbed to Covid, just two days before her scheduled vaccine. Home from school with nothing to do and fully recovered from her school trip, A pulled on her boots, skirted around a visiting grouchy dog and ran across the lawn, footsteps in the damp grass following her, to the bottom of the garden. She spent the morning in the stream, building dams from sticks and mud, hiding out in her woodland lair. This to me is childhood …

Most mornings I’m hurrying A out of the door and into the car. Her feet are stuck into her shoes, flip-flop style, and I radiate silent exasperation as I watch her navigate the stone steps with laces trailing and heels flattening the backs of her shoes. When she remembers, she hastily gathers her backpack, Kindle, and headphones, and squashes them to her tummy, a muddle of items in her arms. She glares at me, unhappy to have her Lego play brusquely interrupted by my demands to brush her teeth and put her shoes on. As we bounce along the bumpy driveway, she concentrates hard on pushing her feet fully into her shoes and lacing them tightly. I quiz her on the current set of times tables while swerving around potholes on the narrow lane from the castle. Tasks completed, we are free to enjoy the beauty of the journey’s remainder, which is one of the loveliest drives to school …

A small dark animal stepped, slightly clumsily, over the mass of broken twigs and branches. A little bewildered by the unfamiliar shape, colour and gait, I paused to watch more closely. On my runs and walks through the woods I have disturbed plenty of squirrels and the occasional rabbit, hare, deer and those strange pig-deer muntjacs. This was something different though …

Usually I am annoyed with moths, for spoiling my flour or eating little holes in my sweaters, or for blundering around a room at night time. However, these moths, there were about 20 different types trapped temporarily by the local natural history society, were beautiful. The girls were captivated by the intricate black, white and brown patterns on their wings and the variety in size, colour and shape …

Today started ever so quietly and secretly at 1am when the girls woke themselves up, crept out of bed and decorated with balloons, flowers and a birthday banner and stealthily returned to bed.

It was a tough day of homeschool where frustrations ran high, which was a pity because the weather was glorious. Hot. Perhaps too hot. Perhaps it was a day to take a break from writing and maths …

This oak, just around and up the path from our home, may just be the one that becomes my tree friend. I seek out one old wise tree in my neighbourhood that I can silently say hello to in passing or to hug when I need perspective or to feel grounded or just because. If this oak could talk, I wonder what stories it would tell …

Our feather collection is growing with striped pheasant feathers, spotted woodpecker feathers and this vibrant blue duck feather that matches L’s fading polish and sandals!

“I found a feather,

It is very beautiful,

Shimmering blue and green”

by L

Paddling the row boat as though it was a canoe, they circumnavigated the lake, only occasionally becoming entangled in the water lilies. It was a lovely ending to A’s 8th birthday …

Our early quarantine days unwound in blissful sunshine. The girls set to exploring our new home. They roamed through the enchanting garden discovering secret nooks, paddled a little rowboat through the water lilies and accidentally lost a shoe in the lake whilst taking the tree swing to its limit. Today the rain is unceasing. Time to be inside, unpacking and easing into our new life. We feel extremely lucky to be here, close to my parents and surrounded by so much nature.

Perched on the edge of my seat, peering through the windows of the taxi, my insides were bubbling and fizzing with anticipation for a sight of our new home. The taxi bumped its way along the pot-holed lane; a lane so narrow that there was only room for one car. It swept us around a corner and the land fell away to our right and we gazed out over grassy fields and scattered clumps of woodland. To our left tall beech and pine trees marched uphill…