Spring is in full swing in the U.K. The birds are VERY loud (almost as loud as the planes landing in London every ten minutes). All the greenery is fluorescent. But that doesn’t mean the weather is predictable. We learned to leave the house with multiple layers in case rain, chill or shine shows up.
The mud room is a necessity in England.
Brits love a good walk. Pile on the Barbour jacket, grab the walking stick and have the Jack Russell follow you through fields of nettles and grass, over fences and around livestock. When we got an invite to go on a walk, we did our best to keep up. They aren't the 10 minute variety, but more like a several hour journey. Charlie and I were happy to walk off the copious glasses of vino, pints or whatever rich meal we'd just had. The kids weren't so keen for exercise and after 20 minutes started to ask the usual band of questions, 'Lets go home', 'Are we there yet?'. Sophia, the cautious one, developed a startling radar for any bug, rodent or prickly plant that might come across her path. As soon as she spotted it, she'd clamber up the nearest adult like a chipmunk. She's got risk awareness nailed at the ripe age of 5. Perhaps that's not a bad thing?!
Walking the doggies at Richmond Park with Billy and Mandy (Aunt & Uncle). It seems that everyone has at least one dog here.
A bed of thyme!? Time for bed I say! Petersham Nurseries was eye-poppingly gorgeous. It truly is a refuge from the bustling city.
My mother in-law and sister in-law would be gaga over the greenery at the garden nurseries.
There's nothing like fresh air for kidlets...of all ages. It's a tonic for their spirit.
We stayed with my father's oldest and dearest friends Esme and Sarah in Lincolnshire. While the kids and I roamed their gorgeous grounds, Charlie took about a millions pictures of their stately English estate. On occasion, Alfie felt the need to give the green, green grass an extra boost with his firefighter hose.
I couldn't imagine a more English home...both inside and out.
Reading among the fruit trees. Pure bliss.
Sarah is a dedicated cook. As soon as I walked in her kitchen, my eyes and nose couldn't stop darting around at all the detail packed in this central room. Remnants of their love of travel and food punctuated every corner. The kitchen had an AGA that represented it's English heritage (it looked like it hadn't worked in a while). France crept into the room too (they had lived there for years)--the mesh French cheese cupboard, the bread cutting station and the Burgundy and Bordeaux wines on the table. A multitude of both typical and rare oils, vinegars and condiments sat on the counter for easy access. A large earthenware tagine stood on the gas stove. Pottery from her talented son Rupert and his wife lined the walls. Not only did this kitchen look fabulous, we ate very, very well at its table.
Sophia's 'Thank you' for Esme and Sarah, two great art appreciators.