Sometimes we get cabin fever and the squabbling reaches fever pitch and the nerves fray a little faster when the husband is away and it's solo parenting for over a week. Then it's time to rush everyone out of the door and no we are not staying home, and no, you cannot take electronics in the car and please put on your shoes even if you really hate the farm and can you maybe screech a little softer as i cannot find my keys ?
And then we are there and it's just down the road but it's a change of scene and we are out. The mood shifts and our feet crunch gravel and there's music playing, and so many people, it feels quite festive here today. We wonder down the path where the farmer's market sits and drool over pastries and freshly baked bread. We buy honey sticks and the kids bite into them at once. Fresh honey and i tell them about how we had beehives growing up, and how no honey ever tasted better. We eat our lunch in the shade of the grapevine and listen to the band playing country beneath the tree. It's Sunday afternoon and the sun is just perfect and we crack jokes and smile at each other again.
We stop to smell the flowers and watch a butterfly drifting up and down. The day feels slow and warm and full. I dream of one day growing my own wild jungly flower garden, behind the fence where the deer can't reach. We walk along the familiar path to see the lambs and talk about having a black one of our own, to keep the lawn trimmed. And because I love sheep.
We drive home, happy to have been out. Just a change of scene.
Like the carnival the night before, with candy floss and lots of rides. A stripey tiger was even won and cuddled all night long.
And tonight the skies opened at the end of football practice, I the only mother not prepared with umbrella or jackets even though it rained on and off all day long. We clung to each other in the downpour and stumbled muddily up the dirt track from the field, now a running torrent of brown. Not an inch of us was dry but we were laughing at the adventure and there was something healing on a rough day that today was, to be all scrubbed clean and pink, eating egg on toast and drinking tea around the kitchen table. Feeling English. The sky dark outside and moths beating their wings against the screen door. The three of us warm inside, flowers from the garden bringing color to the table. Cuddles on the couch and quiet peacefulness in the house when sleep time came.
It's the little things sometimes. Just the little things.