Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
The wind has truly blown away many a cobweb for us at the start of this the month of May. We ended April with a trip to Hertfordshire, a fly by visit and surprise garden tea for my sister’s 40th birthday. It was wonderful to see her clock Atlas sat nonchalantly at her dinner table as she returned home from work, hands clasped to her mouth and tears of both joy and shock pooling in her wide eyes. We ate, we sipped sparkly drinks, we played cricket on the lawn and enjoyed a majestic aerial display from the resident red kites soaring above us. So heavenly. I drove us home through the night, elated and secure in the knowledge that our children are surrounded by love, care and home environments that will nourish each and every part of them.
May day slipped by uneventfully for us, I was working at an art fayre in Sennen celebrating Beltane which consumed me. I won’t go into it too much but I almost drove away upon arrival, lots of real artists, talking like real artists and there I stood peddling candles and hand creams, feeling quite fraudulent and out of place. Nonetheless, I stuck it out, got through it and after a few ciders in the garden felt all the better for doing so.
Inca has a sleepover at school today, it’s her first time sleeping away from us. She has stayed with her Grandma and Grandpa before but never away from family. I am more nervous than her. She has practised packing away her star print sleeping bag every morning and evening this week, a ritual she is doing, I know, to set a comfort in the unknown. She is a gentle girl but unquestionably strong and as she strides into another new scenario, she does so with the bravery I could only have wished for at the humble age of seven. I hope for her as she grows not to make me proud but to be proud of herself in situations I have never found myself in, to set her own path and take pride in the steps she makes. On a similar note, we’ve got a big decision to make as a family, I’ll be in a place to share more on that soon.
Our garden looks at the moment to be the inspiration of Rudyard Kipling’s famous children’s tale. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see Mowgli, hop, skipping and jumping across the stream at this point. We’ve taken our eye off the house and garden ball for a minute as we take a beat to concentrate on work. It’s giving us a refreshing outlook on the house and we’re both excited to get back to tiling, painting and the like as time allows. The bluebells have carpeted the more untouched areas, we’ve got cherry belle radishes blushing above the soil, the chickens are relishing in the many ‘midgets’, as Atlas calls them, flitting about on the breeze and as the occasional cloud slips from sight the sun has strength enough to leave the odd kiss upon noses and foreheads.