Tuesday heat

It’s predicted to be the hottest week this year.

I’ve doing things the Mediterranean way this morning, keeping window blinds down to shut out the sun, watering the new plants first thing, and waking Hettie to walk her round the park.

She’s like a grumpy teenager at first but then with the early fresh start to the day, she suddenly bursts into life and gallops around with more enthusiasm than ages.

I’m on Grandma duties after school today, but otherwise no other events on the calendar. I’m sitting writing with birds singing and insects buzzing in a gentle melody of nature. Pigeons coo a love song duet high in next door’s ash tree, and in the distance lambs are bleating for their mothers milk.

Predictably I’ve the urge ‘to do’ and not waste my time idly thinking and soaking in the pale blue of the sky and colours of the courtyard, but I’m trying to suppress it.

Roses and geraniums have done particularly well this year, or have I really just not looked properly before?

My gardens, the cobbled courtyard at the back and the lawn with new borders at the front have been a huge solace, filling in my life and helping to make the big hole a little smaller.

Busy is my default, a coping mechanism in grief for many in my situation. Still is not quite so easy, it takes more effort. I have to force myself.

Ken loved the sun, always outside, turning a conker brown with no effort, much to my disgust, whilst I battled with prickly heat. The last few years though his skin was pale, little opportunity without my visits to get outside, and smothered in factor 50 when he did, certainly no chance of taking off his shirt.

I see his hard work everywhere around me. The cobbles barrowed from the farmer’s field at the top of the village, the hobby house he built me with love.

Every stone wall or ground touched by his hands, and meticulously positioned.

Days like these were exactly what we were planning for in retirement together, at last being able to sit back and enjoy what we had achieved. I feel a profound sense of loss, but also huge gratitude for what we have made. I know he would want me to carry on without him, and make the most of life.

I am surrounded by physical signs of his presence;he has left me tangible memories few others can understand, his DNA is in this house, (and the one he built next door).

Today I’m not rushing anywhere, it’s too hot anyway, I’m going to reflect and appreciate what I have.

( Of course once I’ve done my big pile of ironing)!