That funny time of year in Europe. When the heat hangs on, but the sun takes longer to surface in the mornings, and the moon is still a feature of the sky when you first step outside. The last week of my admittedly very long summer holiday. It was hard to leave family in England, but the dogs were along for the final ride. A week in Bruinisse, a chance to enjoy our soon-to-be-home, before I started my first real job.
There are roses which grow on the side of the wall. At first as rich and red as an expensive wine, slowly fading with the sun. Prune sniffs around them indifferently, then goes to lie down in her favorite spot. Summer time. When Prune came to us seven years ago, summer was slowly ending, Fall on its way. How she used to run, wild and young and free, late summer sun dancing across her shiny fur.
You know its rare that I say this but sometimes it really is nice not to travel. At least, not during the summer when you have a huge garden and patio and the roads are crowded and the airports stuffy. Of course, there’s the weather to consider. It might never get as hot as the continent, or as bone-dry as Southern Europe, but as we like to say, rain and stuff just tend to ‘blow over’ and not linger too long. Hence, a summer at home. Which also makes sense since this is likely our last summer in Norfolk.
The evening sun cast long shadows over the moors and glens, sheep chased after the farmer’s tractor for dinner, mother cows called their infants back. The road was long and winding, the light hypnotic. Two hours out of Aberdeen, at least seven to go. Miles of British countryside between us and home, places I’d vaguely heard of but knew almost nothing about. Still just places, passed by but not through. The final journey, an adventure, after a year that was both.
I was going to turn back. In fact, I had. I was waiting to pass some people on the narrow clifftop path when they asked me if I’d seen puffins. No, I’d replied slightly disappointed that I hadn’t. But they had just seen some flying past. That was all I needed to hear, I turned and hurried back to where I’d been waiting and watching for the little birds with the orange beaks.
Those two monkeys never fail to make me laugh. I think I appreciate them even more when I’ve been away, and all their funny little quirks. This Easter we did a lot together- Holland, with Suzi lying on my lap and Prune resting her head on her in the car. Exploring the dykes, watching boats at the marina. Redwings, Suzi’s first time meeting the horses. Enjoying the garden and the new patio- sunny spring days meant the three of us could be outside often. And of course, drives in the Mini- those two love leaping in for an adventure.
The seal spat out the fish for the third time. Patiently and resignedly, the lady netted it out of the water, reinserted a tablet into another fish and tried again to feed her difficult patient. He had half his back scrapped clean off, perhaps from a run in with a boat’s propellor. Lucky he was here, I thought and could one day be returned to the wild. We were in Aseal, a sanctuary for our flippered friends who need rescuing. And visitors can see how the staff are looking after these creatures and preparing them to be released as soon as possible. I wasn’t expecting to find such a place here, in Holland. But then, I had a lot of surprises during our week in Zeeland.
I had been waiting for this for ages. Three months is a long time when its your first year away from home. We were heading up the driveway, lined with daffodils, my favorite flowers. The trees were still bare-leaved and glistened with raindrops, legacy of a cold, wet March. I headed straight for the kitchen and was soon being smothered by two bundles of wagging tails and jet-black fur.
