It’s not Bali
Waking up to the sound of a very noisy blackbird this morning, somewhere around 4.30am, it was perfectly clear that I was no longer in Bali.
I was home.
How good did that feel?
Having said that, in these few days before we adjust the clocks it does get light incredibly early and that, coupled with the slight remains of jetlag means that we’re up and about a bit sooner than we’d normally be.
We needed to do the car parking shimmy to make sure we weren’t blocked in by white vans and whilst I was outside, I took a few deep breaths and savoured the moment.
It’s a glorious morning here. Clear blue sky overhead but cold, with a heavy dew which makes the grass sparkle.
When I’d opened the curtains earlier, I’d spotted a flash of colour – what are these little chaps doing, being out so early too?
We’ve got just the one daffodil out so far. the others still firmly in bud.
Not much else yet, except for a few of the bergenias, looking lovely in the early morning sunshine.
Looking over the valley and watching the mist rise as the village wakes up, there really is no place like home, is there?