There are roses which grow on the side of the wall. At first as rich and red as an expensive wine, slowly fading with the sun. Prune sniffs around them indifferently, then goes to lie down in her favorite spot. Summer time. When Prune came to us seven years ago, summer was slowly ending, Fall on its way. How she used to run, wild and young and free, late summer sun dancing across her shiny fur.
You know its rare that I say this but sometimes it really is nice not to travel. At least, not during the summer when you have a huge garden and patio and the roads are crowded and the airports stuffy. Of course, there’s the weather to consider. It might never get as hot as the continent, or as bone-dry as Southern Europe, but as we like to say, rain and stuff just tend to ‘blow over’ and not linger too long. Hence, a summer at home. Which also makes sense since this is likely our last summer in Norfolk.
The evening sun cast long shadows over the moors and glens, sheep chased after the farmer’s tractor for dinner, mother cows called their infants back. The road was long and winding, the light hypnotic. Two hours out of Aberdeen, at least seven to go. Miles of British countryside between us and home, places I’d vaguely heard of but knew almost nothing about. Still just places, passed by but not through. The final journey, an adventure, after a year that was both.
Those two monkeys never fail to make me laugh. I think I appreciate them even more when I’ve been away, and all their funny little quirks. This Easter we did a lot together- Holland, with Suzi lying on my lap and Prune resting her head on her in the car. Exploring the dykes, watching boats at the marina. Redwings, Suzi’s first time meeting the horses. Enjoying the garden and the new patio- sunny spring days meant the three of us could be outside often. And of course, drives in the Mini- those two love leaping in for an adventure.
I had been waiting for this for ages. Three months is a long time when its your first year away from home. We were heading up the driveway, lined with daffodils, my favorite flowers. The trees were still bare-leaved and glistened with raindrops, legacy of a cold, wet March. I headed straight for the kitchen and was soon being smothered by two bundles of wagging tails and jet-black fur.
Tranquil. Not a word we normally associate with India. But beyond the often discussed hustle and bustle, chaos, dust and noise there is indeed a laid-back side to the sub continent. I came to India this year to unwind having had a stressful few months and found that even in Bangalore, the hectic hub of a city that seems to grow by the day, it is possible to relax.
So its almost 2018. I’m not sure about you but I feel like it was just New Years. 2017 needs a speeding ticket. I didn’t do a post to mark the occasion last year but since my site turned a year old this month I thought I’d do a roundup of some of the highlights that have featured here, from the last two years. Naturally, many of them are places visited. If you were part of them, laugh, cry or both. If not, I hope they remind you of some of your own.
It snowed. And snowed and snowed some more. I hadn’t seen so much since skiing three years ago. I woke up one Thursday morning a week ago to a world of white. The kids in school watched it fall all day, wishing they could be outside throwing snowballs at each other, stuck inside making snowmen out of socks and rice instead. Personally, I was happy where I was, watching the fat flakes fall as the winter skies darkened and the street lights reflected their amber glow into the classroom. Later, ‘Sleigh-bells ring, are you listening?’ rang out as I hurried past the High Street’s shops on the way home, bundled up in two scarves. Never had that line been more accurate.
A few days ago I arrived home, the first homecoming since I left, and as sweet as they come. Driving through the dark country lanes, stars tiny pinpricks in the indigo sky, I couldn’t wait to see my dog. And I guess she was just a little bit pleased to see me too. We all know the Prune way of welcoming you home, and standing there in the doorway, I’ve never been more grateful that my Prune girl was there for me too.
