These days, his horizons are expanding as he is getting bigger and starting to crawl. And the the memory of our tiny newborn is more and more distant.
At times, the days seem to be getting physically more challenging lately when I had expected them to get easier. But at least we can be outside, and that is my saving grace. Thank goodness for the fields, the park, the woods, the hillsides, the scarf…places where each of us are always content.
One of the many joys of staying with my parents in law for the summer is the abundant amount of fresh food this time of year. Their vegetable plot & allotment are overflowing with a glut of vegetables and pulses.
Strawberries, green beans, fresh salads and potatoes at every meal. And then there are the raspberries and cherry tomatoes.
Just the right size for eager little fingers. So many happy moments are spent outside picking tomatoes straight from the vine when grandmamie has turned her back. Not that she minds in the slightest.
High summer, deep summer is here in France. The kind that leaves the grass yellow, the trees dry and the ponds shrinking. The kind that also keeps us inside during the hottest parts of the day, shutters down and drinking long glasses of ice cold water.
Once the sun has lost some of it’s fierceness, we head outside into the garden. Fill up an old enamel saucepan with rain water saved from the winter time and splash around under the shade of the apple tree.
Days of warm (often sweltering) sunshine and breezes, when after our afternoon nap, we head to the beach and sit on the sand with the rest of the world, playing with stones, tasting the sand and playing in the waves.