Wednesday, 31 August 2016

We follow the sun

It seems like 'transitioning' is the buzz word in our house these days. Everybody is doing it...Alannah is transitioning to her new room in play school - very grown up with a proper big slide and what's this? No more nappies? Phew, sighed The Earth as it is relieved of even one of its contributors to the heaving stockpile of soiled nappies toddlers can create. Mind you, Oscar is making up for it...

It seems like only yesterday that I was sitting here in the Holly Cottage, in blissful ignorance I might add, for the arrival of our own little princess and my own transitioning to mother. And now she is climbing the stairs without assistance to a new classroom, running on ahead into the 'dark woods' as I struggle to follow with a thriving babe in arms. 

Oscar is transitioning too - he is aware now of his surroundings and he knows the benefits of making his voice heard. When the princess isn't here he is quiet, sleepy...and chats away to himself no end. But when the storm returns, he observes keenly...watching her every move, waiting his turn and drinking in all the fun that being a mobile unit will bring him in the future. 

The garden is transitioning also - winter green manure cover is well established across the most of it, courgettes have possibly passed their peak and tomatoes are blushing nicely. Ambitions were low this year in the Holly Cottage garden, and to be truthful I'm glad we got to where we did, not knowing how the new arrival would impact on moving about the place and all that comes with that. Spuds are all out to avoid the attentions of the greedy slugs and vibrant beetroot awaits daily encounters with goat's cheese. And that's it, pretty much. A few apples to fall and of course the odd delight squirrelled away in the freezer for the darker days. But we are pretty much on the wind down (to you know what).

It's one of the main drivers in the lives of us living this far north - we follow the sun. She comes and she goes and she wondrously lights up the night in summer while keeping her glare low all through the winter. We respond accordingly and this year flip-flops graciously won out over summer wellies, hurray! And sure, it's not over yet...but we are transitioning. 

It's the sunflower that beckons the change. And I must change too, as newborn becomes bouncing babe that wants more entertainment and princess wants to stay in play-school forever. A quick check in the mirror and I delude myself that I am the same as I was at the start of the summer. But that's certainly impossible. Daily clashes with the threenager and four months of broken sleep have taken their toll. But yoga prevails and has the power to restore. And on this day when I learned of the passing of a truly inspirational woman and dear friend - not much ahead of me in her years but miles ahead in her wisdom - I am grateful for every diminishing minute of this Irish summer, its highs and its lows. Because life is for those of us who are, living. 

So, welcome sunflowers, welcome the change that's coming, welcome transitioning. Farewell summer, farewell newborn stage, farewell toddler princess and bittersweet farewell darling, beautiful Judit. 

We followed the sun, in life, in work, in nature, together. 

For Judit. 

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