I shall live badly if I do not write, and I shall write badly if I do not live. Francoise Sagan
It is grey and dull today.
I am huddled inside with our youngest baking muffins and painting. It has drizzled most of the morning. A hazy mist of barely there raindrops.
These are my kind of days. Slow and peaceful. Restorative in their quietness and ordinariness.
I ventured outside to gather basil and parsley for our lunch and caught a hint of someone’s wood fire. We never had an open fire in our house, growing up or since. But somehow that smell reminds me of home. I hurried inside and rang AJ, declaring our ‘need’ for a fire pit in our back yard, for adventures and toasted marshmallows and damper on sticks. He agreed – it was indeed necessary!
I made our little girl a ‘coffee’. Heated milk frothed to fluffy perfection, topped with milo. She wiggled with happiness. I made myself a coffee and added almond milk, because that is what I do now. The milk and coffee separated and there were clouds floating in my mug. I tipped it down the sink.
The TV seems to be broken, or at the very least it is having some trouble agreeing with the remote control. Tinkerbell will have to wait. Try explaining that to a two year old. Peace was restored with a pair of gumboots and a wand.
Today I am thinking of my friends who are travelling through the UK for the next 5 weeks. My excitement for all that they will see is tainted oh-so-slightly with jealousy. I long for quiet adventures and wild, sweeping landscapes. For the beauty of the North of England that I know and love. Misty mountains and cosy pubs. My friends will return with great stories, told with rapidity and joy, and I will delight in their wonder, of this I am sure.
Simplicity reigns in this house today.