There will be wine… potentially lots of it. It may not be good, but it will be good enough, I say. Good enough for use in the sangria recipe I posted about and if I’m really fortunate, and the souls of a thousand dead, tipsy monks smile on me from above, it might be good enough to drink with dinner.
Rural life is awakening things in me. I’m growing some vegetables, made some elderflower infused vodka (which I haven’t been brave enough to sample yet… and I’m getting over a cold), I go on country walks, enjoy time at the tiny local shop, and I go fishing. I pay more attention to birds, butterflies, and flowering trees. I’ve always been a nature lover, but paying attention – really paying attention – is something that can slip away, lost in the hustle and bustle of the real and metaphorical noise that surrounds us all.
We’ve rather significantly reduced that noise by moving to rural Cornwall. It’s almost – almost – like we’ve been given more hours in each day. There’s still always something that goes undone by the time bedtime arrives, but the peacefulness of each day makes those leftover tasks and to-dos feel less like a dark cloud overhead.
We’re still adjusting to this new mental and physical environment, but it’s clicking. We are healing and growing in this new home. Certainly something worthy of a toast. Who knows– this wine I’m making might be just drinkable enough for it.