The View from Here: a house for making memories

Bathed in sunshine, we waved good-bye to Russ and Char.

Less than two later Ellie and the boys arrived.

The sun obligingly kept his hat on.

It was a quick turnaround; is this how landladies feel?  I am reminded why I’ve never been attracted to the idea of running a bed and breakfast.

As the boys tumbled out of the car amid hugs and chatter, the rush of the previous hour or two melted away.  Excited voices and rapid footsteps as the boys roamed through the house: opening cupboards and exploring rooms.  I saw the house through a child’s eyes: no interest in costs or what work needs doing, just pure delight as they discovered each room – and especially their own toy cupboard.

A buzzard performed right on cue.  Little Ben was amazed that he’d seen an ‘eagle’.

The most exciting part of exploring the house? Windy Turnbine waving from his spot on the hill.  He will forever be Windy Turnbine for me now.

The practicalities of exploring, unpacking and lunch dispensed with, a golden afternoon beckoned.

Evan may be a budding champion but Ben is less convinced.

He much preferred hiding and kicking up his heels in the ball pool.

We spread the rug under the tree and both boys came together for an icy treat.

Over the course of that golden afternoon we had

wild time.

With time and space to run and shout and be free.

And under the tree we had

quiet time.

With hugs and cuddles and laughter and gentle stories.

And for a few seconds at least – at Evan’s request – we had silence.

So that we could listen to the wind rustling the leaves in the branches above us.

The view from here is infused with love and wonder.

And I had magical time,

sharing their joy and delight,

and knowing that this particular afternoon will never come again.

Much later,

as two tired and sated little boys slipped sleepily into their dreams,

we had a sunset to savour.

Good night, sweet boys, sleep well.

And good night, Windy Turnbine.