Our home has moved but it is still loud, noisy and busy as some things will never change despite the location. The boys wake up one by one in their own unique ways; Ollie with a spring in his step surrounded by an air of enthusiasm for whatever the day may hold, Tobes with shouts of ‘FRESH MILK MUMMY!’ and Henry with wails of incomprehensible noise that is only shushed when you pick him up and he hugs you so tight you think he may squeeze your heart out. They are all different but we know them all well.
Our move was stressful, my workroom isn’t finished so I can’t start work just yet, we have boxes everywhere still and we’ve managed to take with us our ever present problem of ‘the garage’. My grand idea to not take anything we didn’t actually need/use didn’t really go to plan and we have a new garage filled with all the old garage’s ‘stuff’. Still, it’s behind a closed door and I cannot see it so, for the moment anyway, I will forget it.
We’ve seen deer run across the bottom of the garden, rabbits, foxes, many different types of butterflies and equally the same number of winged flying things. The boys have been enchanted by the rustle of the wind through the trees and I can’t wait until we have a clear night to listen for owls and watch the stars. There has been much bike riding, scooting and exploring and Ollie and the boy next door have found lots of fallen conkers and buried them asking ‘will they grow into a tree?’ with me saying ‘erm, probably not no’. Ollie has admired the boy’s penknife and I’m sure that will be the next thing he saves his pocket money up for so hubbie and I need to have that chat and make that decision…
William Henry Davies wrote the poem ‘Stop and Stare’ and I have found myself stopping and staring during our first week. I have studied the cottage as there are lumps and bumps with wonky bits and added bits. I’ve been convinced it was made from 3 separate cottages that were joined into the one and I found doorways and windows to prove this. Searching online to find old maps confirmed what I thought and the cottage was, from 1877- 1960 (ish) 3 separate cottages with a tiny one in the middle. I was chuffed with myself (I am stupidly interested and fascinated by old houses) and no doubt will bore all our visitors over the coming months.
Walking into Tobes’ bedroom this morning I saw Hen and Tobes sitting on Tobes’ bed. The window was open and they were miles away lost in their own thoughts. Lying on their tummies they were both peaceful (unusual) and calm (very unusual!) and when I asked them what they were doing Henry said ‘watching the rain…’ They stayed like this long enough for me to get my camera and take a photo and then we all just looked, listened and watched the rain. The noise of it was hypnotic and the force of the raindrops bouncing back up from the path outside was fascinating.
I had found my 3 cottages, hubbie goes off for walks in the garden, Ollie buries conkers in the ground after disappearing off for 1/2hr with the boy next door and comes back envious of a penknife and my 2 littlest boys enjoy a quiet moment together looking out of the window. I no longer feel like a square peg in a round hole in my own home and can now take that long breath in and enjoy the even longer slow, exhale.
I will take a leaf out of William Henry Davies’ poem and will spend more time stopping and staring. My 2 youngest sons learned today, for themselves, that pleasure can be found in the simplest of experiences. So if you came to visit the cottage you may find me sitting in my chair by the fire, sewing in my new workroom or, if the weather is right, I may be upstairs in my son’s bedroom just sitting there, watching the rain…