It is Monday. We are back into routine. The morning starts with the walk to Son1’s Nursery. Before we leave the house the boys play in their new ‘car’ (enormous cardboard box) in the garden. They squeal as they see a squirrel and rush in to tell me of the ‘wild’ thing they have seen for the day.
We head out of the front door, son1 spies two ants on the ground, we rush past flowers and hedgerows on our way down the hill and again ‘wild’ things are spotted all around. It is only 5 days into our wild adventures and already they are noticing more of the natural world.
Later son2 and I head out to the park. I crave some more exercise and push his buggy up the steep hill to the edge of our estate. We live on the North side of Brighton’s hills, the place where it is a degree colder than town in the winter. The place where the winds sweep over the hills but where the views burn your eyes with beauty. We live on the edge of countryside, rolling hills, fields of flowers and woods. We live in the place where the city meets the green green grasses of the South Downs. We live on the borderlands. I stride between two worlds on the long way to the park.
We sit and dig in sand, we run around, the long grass tickles our feet. We munch snacks under the warming sun and blue skies, with the wind whistling in our ears. We head off to pick the eldest up and then walk home.
An ordinary day in an extraordinary world.