Warm bread on a cold day

I usually make our bread, unless I get very short of time.   This one's made with a flour mix from the wonderful Shipton Mill, containing spelt flour, pumpkin seeds and figs. It tastes truly wonderful.  Especially on a day of heavy rain and chill winds when comfort food is high on the list.

This morning I got up early and drove to North Yorkshire to see the family I rehomed Milly (the pony) with in Sept. Milly has settled down very well with them and we had agreed to finalise the transfer of ownership today. So that's that: after just over 6 years, I am no longer a horse-keeper.  

This change is still leaving a gaping hole in my life in some respects. However, it has also meant that I have been able to be a supportive mum and granny over the last few months, when family pressures have been very high.  I dreamed, last night, that I was riding Milly in a lovely flowing canter (something my stiff left hip had made impossible over the last year, in waking life). Perhaps this was the letting-go that was needed. It was a calm and generally happy dream. This morning I was chatting to Jo, the mum in Milly's new family. She described watching Izzy this week (her daughter and Milly's rider now), as they cantered around the arena on the farm - Izzy had let go of the reins and was balancing happily hands-free  as Milly flew around.   It all fits together, really.

I feel I can't avoid mentioning Brexit, yet can't say anything about it except to let loose a kind of howl about the casual waste and damage that is being done by our government. Prior to 2016, polling evidence shows that few people thought our EU membership was a contentious issue in any way. And how here we are... and I'm chatting to my son and his Greek partner about the raft of new complications that we'll face as a family from January onwards.   And we are just a tiny fragment of a much bigger problem.