The sea, the sea

Come away with me,
To the sea,
Come away with me,
To the shore.

And we will hear the waves crashing,
And we wiil feel the surf in our hair.

Come away with me,
To the sea,
Come away with me,
To the shore.

And we will hear the wind in the pines,
And we will see the laughter in their eyes.

Come away with me,
To the sea,
Come away with me,
To the shore.

And when the golden sun has sunk into the water,
The pale moon will rise to take its place.

Come away with me,
To the sea,
Come away with me,
To the shore.

And in our hearts we'll take a piece of the ocean,
To remind us we are brave and we are free.

Come away with me,
To the sea,
Come away with me,
To the shore.

These September days have been so sunny and warm that we've tried to say yes to the beach as often as possible. Yes to early morning kitesurfing and late evening picnics, to pebble castles and swimming, to shell collecting and mussel picking. And yes to beach yoga and jumping and running along empty beaches.



I know in my bones that these days, spent soaking in the suns warmth, will carry us through the winter. When I take a shell in my hand or sneak another peek at the tiny empty crab we found, I'll be transported back to these lazy last days of summer. These days when we were almost always the last to leave the beach. 

Update from the garden...

The seeds sprouted! Yeah! The week of rain that followed planting probably helped. The kids were wild with delight. Well so were the adults too. We all ran out to see after I spotted some green from an upstairs window. This is what I love about nature, it's capacity to offer joy to us at every step if we open our eyes.

Digging

We've always wanted to grow our own food. Living in a big city we grew rocket and tomatoes on our balcony. So we were itching to start. Early September isn't exactly the best time to begin but after a bit of online research we decided to go ahead and plant a small patch anyway. 

To that end we dug up some of the lawn.

We all joined in, everybody using any tool they could lay their hands on.














We read a lot. Should we double dig? Should we use our own soil from under the pile of grass cuttings and rotten leaves as compost? (it looked dark and chocolaty). Or should we buy topsoil? compost? How should we plant the seeds? rows or scattered? To experienced gardeners this probably all sounds ridiculous but as total beginners, everything leads to a question and another and another... 

In the end we dug up the grass down to about 8inches and then spent a long time turning it over. We added our own soil and turned it all over and raked it again. In between each stage we let the whole thing rest. Finally we added topsoil and raked it in. It looked good. As for planting, we marked out rows and put in a few seeds at a time, respecting the spacing indicated on the seed packets. All in a rush because the rain was coming. In fact we finished under the first drops but nobody seemed to mind. Fingers crossed. 

There's a lot of hope in planting a garden. The children and I danced around the little patch singing like Satsuki and Mai in the Myazaki film Totoro. We saluted the earth and asked her and the trees around our garden to take care of our seeds for us admitting we know little yet and asking them to help us learn. Now all there is to do is watch and wait. 

Arriving

Change. Sometimes it feels we've turned the world on its head. And I find myself thinking What have we done? Cast ourselves adrift. For a moment, panic. Do we even have a sail? Change is frightening and exhilarating, liberating and uncertain. We were standing on the edge of a cliff and the only thing left to do was jump. 

Our old life in Paris, trains, people, crowds, work, work, work is gone now with all its familiar comfortableness. The 1 bedroom apartment's swapped for an old, cold Breton house and a huge garden. Soil to dig, cabins to construct, seeds to plant and vegetables to grow. And like the boat, cast off, rocking up and down on the waves, I go up and down, up and down. One minute blown over by the beauty and the silence and the space, the next terrified we'll never meet anyone, make any friends, put any names to all these places around us.

But, predictably, my three sweet babes are not so phased by all this. They aren't thinking or worrying, they are much too busy doing... 

There's a new pony club 
and one special pony, Shalom, 
to get to know and love for Maya. 

















The longed for woodworking; hammers, nails, string and screws are delighting Noah as well as plenty of 'veloing' (a.k.a bike riding - I love the 'franglais'). And along with his little sister, Lotte, hours and hours of swinging delight.

And watching them, seeing them getting on with it, we are inspired. We plunge in too and try to root a little even though we don't know how long this place will be home.