Nice day shame about the photo

Today we cycled over clusters of discarded oak leaves and I noticed that the oak trees had decided to start unsticking their acorns. The tide on the estuary was so high it brought the waders and seabirds almost up to the cycle path and I watched the tiniest, inch-high waves twisting silkily in the sunlight and winking at me as they slunk away from the silty shore in sensual liquid beauty. I was aware of the contrast between the energy of the water and wildlife to my right, and the slowing down and letting go of the trees above me and to my left.
The sun was strong and bright but the wind was harsh, and clothes went on and off and on again in a struggle to all at once both protect and air my body.

Without the children we managed to cycle about 7 miles in no time at all, and were stopping for lunch before I was hungry. On the table behind Richard, I saw the midwife (now retired) who was responsible for my care 18 and 16 years ago when Gemma and Joel were born; behind me were two blonde 2-year-olds screaming with ice cream-induced excitement.
I thought about how tough on myself I'd been when I was in my twenties and caring full-time for our first 2 children before they started school. I'd felt I wasn't doing enough and was somehow under-performing.
Just before we left the café I saw a heavily pregnant woman entering, and I smiled to myself with fondness. Pregnancy is magic and beautiful, while simultaneously being exhausting and uncomfortable. I always admire expectant mothers and think how wonderful they are. I wish I'd known how wonderful I was being all those years ago.

We cycled home again and I stopped to take this photo, because for just one second the sun was on the view through the bridge and not on the foreground. Obviously by the time I'd got my camera out the moment had passed and the view looked just as shitty as usual.

Back home the sheets on the line were already dry, and Richard mowed the lawn while I made aubergine pickle, and plum and apple jam.


I'm going to put the fresh-air-and-sunshine-soaked sheets on the bed and hope to sleep well tonight.