Last time I escaped to my favourite country place, it was a time of blackberries and dahlias, warm summer evenings and crunchy dry grass. It was 6 months before I found out I was pregnant.
This time, the zinnias were on their last legs and I had a little extra baggage.
There is nothing quite like the country air to jolt you awake. Both myself and Baby A slept soundly, and took in the sights and sounds to remember for later. We walked the frost-covered grass early in the morning, and listened to the animals settle at twilight. I wore gumboots in a non-fashion-choice way (i.e. in mud). I was nervous about taking Bubs on a plane, but she was a pro; and perhaps because I was showing her around, I found myself seeing the place with fresh eyes and enjoying small details and simple days. What a treat.
Tell me about your favourite holiday place. Is it a childhood tradition? A happy discovery? What is it that makes places so dear to your heart?