Our son has just left in his new (old) little white Clio. One of those crisp starry mornings when one stands, face up to the sky and wonders about it all. The plough/saucepan was exceptionally bright, a couple of satellites passing at that slow but certain determined satellite speed. The hug gave reason to it all. It's always odd that parting moment but he'll be back again soon.
Some weekends just pass, a routine and pleasant blur of time: jobs, garden stuff, writing, music, dog walks, a bit of tentative thought about what we are doing/will be doing as Covid has, as for nearly everyone, I'd imagine, disrupted plans . . .This weekend with its extra day has been one of those times when all the hours counted.
Son explaining impossibly complicated carpentry instructions
Sunday morning. I'd forgotten that our friend Jean-Paul was going to appear to dig out the pond with us, and he duly did with wheelbarrow of waders and tools. Breakfast hastily finished we joined him, Ezra in waders, Mark barrowing mud and me raking it around trees.
Ezra and I managed to fit in a favourite activity, a road trip; a small one but nevertheless as fascinating and memorable as ever, incorporating various abandoned buildings, disused railway tracks, the spectacularly blue 'Lac de Rillé' and the handsome chateau de Gizeux.
Easter Monday was a day of forest dog walk, lunch with the wood-burner on - weather has backtracked a little into winter - wood cutting and chainsaw instruction. Through his carpentry/roofing studies Ezra has developed a quiet confidence with such tools... Tea and cake, chat and all the comfortable familiarities settling back into place, shared jokes from over the years, happily remembered milestones or just everyday stuff.
So, sitting in bed after the early start with large mug of tea, writing this and thinking of him heading southwards in the small white car, listening to his eclectic playlist. See you soon.