Considering reinstating all of the old blog posts, just because it seems like such a wonderful record of our time and our efforts to live a good life, a pity for it to be gathering metaphorical dust in the archive.
Nice weather here this week finally, although I think today is the last hot day. All of the windows are open and I can hear things being blown over in other rooms. I need to summon some energy to pick up the house today.
Summer holidays are rolling along in a wonderful dream. Mentioned the possibility of home education to my youngest yesterday and was met with an immediate no thanks. We'll revisit that. I'm still unsure what's the best thing. I can say in all confidence that my oldest is so much happier and more her old self after a week and a half off of school.
I've been trying to get back into the drawing. I'm enjoying what I have done, but lacking inspiration. I never really go anywhere but the beach to have nothing in my head. It was easy when we lived in the countryside and only had to look out the window to see something wonderful. We have gained so much in the move back to the city that it would be an insult to try and list it, but there is a big part of me that still feels homeless and displaced and hankering after my lost garden. When the wind blows a certain way I am transported back to the oak trees and it's hard to bear.
The answer of course is that I need to get out more. Or get out in different ways. Go for walks in the woods, the parks, the meadows, the streets, look around, notice things.
Well, this morning I am going to put on a record and straighten up the house. I rarely listen to music or watch films these days, I think because it all belongs to a lost past. I need to claw some of myself that I left behind into the present.
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