You already know this, but I can't stop collecting things I will miss: walking to church, the sound of the sea, the french doors in our living room. I will miss dinner parties, wearing boots everyday, the salty-damp smell of our wynd on foggy days
and the sea.
But, the other side of me has been collecting things I won't miss: the wind, the weird lock on our door, the falcon on the dark streets at night (hired by the town to kill rodents). I can't imagine missing the seagulls waking me up, the mold, the dark winter days, the persistent rains, and the bug infestations. Because boy do we ever get days when we beg the sun to shine for just an inch of sky, and it doesn't. As idyllic as our life is, and it is, we are human, things fall apart, and no place is perfect.
Thinking something in the future will wipe away all present annoyances reminds me of the poem by Gerald Locklin, called "where we are"
i envy those
who live in two places:
new york, say, and london;
wales and spain;
l.a. and paris;
hawaii and switzerland.
there is always the anticipation
of the change, the chance that what is wrong
is the result of where you are. i have
always loved both the freshness of
arriving and the relief of leaving. with
two homes every move would be a homecoming.
i am not even considering the weather, hot
or cold, dry or wet: i am talking about hope.
Along with the postcard vistas of Scotland, there are things wrong here as everywhere, and this poem always reminds me that real happiness has nothing to do with place.
With a fresh week today, I wanted to share some instants of last week, a bit of a random collage of our life.
A pop-up shop in a prime locations for St Andrews Radio meant lots of publicity for the organization Walker's led this year.
We had a dinner party with red, white, and blue food in honour of the royal wedding the next morning. Roasted tomatoes with coarse salt. Blueberries (recipe here). Spring!
Company from America is visiting, and we spent hours yesterday walking from beach to beach along the coast,
and walking past university sanctuaries.
Walker's best friend from home is keeping him on his toes.
The waves pushing in and then bursting against the pier into white in the sunshine mesmerized me yesterday.
The castle, despite a recent landslide beneath its walls, remains ruinously stalwart.
We're more than likely on a walk as you read this; it's been lovely from the growing grass to the fast clouds. While I hope for tomorrow, we're enjoying today, glad for fresh, blue air and glad for friends.