Sunday arrival

Posted by Tania Kindersley.

Two hundred and fifty miles went in a flash. The dawn over the Cumbrian hills was lucent and lambent and luminous and lustrous, and all the words beginning with L. It made me stare in wonder.

I am now at the house with all the cousins. One is playing the harmonica, one is doing a special dance, one is typing, one is watching me do this. Oh, and now there is singing too, along to the Old Crow Medicine Band. The godson has been doing creative things whilst I was away. He shows me. I am impressed.

I am too tired from the road to write much, but I always feel very lucky to come back to such a happy house. It is not sticky, treacly, perfect, Waltons happy. It is muddly, funny, unexpected, human happy.

I just really, really like a house where people sing at tea-time.

 

This is where I am.

Evening sky:

My favourite tree:

Willows:

Spring in a pot:

The Pigeon with her southern friend, sitting guard:

And the middle cousin, with her dog: