ages

It has been some time since I have thought of writing. I have been occupied with other things: painting, gardening, watching the Olympics (which I have really never done before), shopping, reading, lying in the hammock in our backyard and staring up through the trees to blue sky and sun. It seems in one fell swoop my world has become large and free and unhindered, yet terribly small and sometimes a bit lonely. It's all very normal, I am assured, this up-down crash of longing for home and familiarity, but then I am perfectly content, and that assurance makes me grateful.

I took a few minutes respite in our hammock yesterday, and was startled alert by a sharp, strong knocking that I could feel right through the hammock. I was confused until I looked up and there was a woodpecker, hammering the tree about the hammock. He ( I am almost certain it was a he) had a red cap and red lower chest, and black and white all over. I watched for nearly 10 minutes as he hopped from tree to tree pecking and testing for I do not know what. Just a few minutes watching him and the melancholy I was feeling passed.

The country life is quite delightful, I must say. A little ways up our road and the houses end, and the thick forest cuts to farm fields that must be quite ancient, lined with moss-covered stone fences and dotted with red and white farm buildings. The road officially ends in a clusters of rural homes, but our neighbour assured us that there is a little-travelled road that continues on. I am itching to explore. We definitely need to purchase another bike, as we have an older one for Martin but I need one in order that we can do further exploration on wheels.