Four weeks and a new moon in this new space. Room to move, room to breathe, so much room in which to make mistakes and then make amends - memories, all.
There is plenty to change (a blue kitchen, good grief) and plenty to do. But more often than not I simply sit and look out our windows. Our windows. Downstairs the sun streams in and our garden comes to life in the dancing, dappled light. Hellebores nod sagely under the protective canopy of the Ash tree while the roses twist their gnarled, hopeful canes ever upward. Upstairs, curtains flung open to views as far as the eye can see across the tree tops and over to the mountains in the distance. A rainy day today is a blessing to be sure, with the sleepy hilltops draped in a comforting blanket of argentine cloud.
Not a new start but a new chapter in a beloved story with well worn pages that I can now recite from sweet, and sometimes bittersweet, memory. A new home. Our home.