At the bottom of the garden

Dave arrived today. He came the long way round from Cumbria, cycling from New York, down the east coast and across to San Diego before coming up the west coast as far as us.

He's making a film about his trip (see his blog here) which involves cycling around and paying attention to the interesting folk he meets along the way. He was inspiring and left me pining for the freedom of youth...to just take off, with a well-packed bicycle and no plan. (As if...).

But then...hey, wait a minute....we're not doing so bad on the adventure front. Uprooting ourselves may not seem like such a big deal, what with having a job and everything. But still. I dropped my precious baby girl into a strange place, with only faith that it would all turn out for the best.

Anyway, in our tiny house, the only place for our first visitor to sleep was the bunkhouse in the garden. The bunk beds take up most of the space and 70% of the rest is our unpacked shipping boxes. And Dave is at least six foot five....