Walking on the White Cliffs

For an entire year I happily reminisce about how wonderful our England vacation was, and I'm so glad to be going back again this September.  I pack really light this year, and K.J. is impressed.  I tell him I purposely left lots of room for all the books I'll be bringing back.  He stops looking impressed and looks a little nervous.

My heart is light even when we miss our boat because our passports need extra attention.  The border guards are thankfully kind and understanding, and we're put on the next boat where English immediately and familiarly surrounds us.  The language changes, and the cuisine changes.  I eat an early dinner of Pumpkin Ravioli.

It's Ella's 13th birthday, and K.J. and I think a walk along the cliffs, hearing the white gulls call, while the wind whips through her hair, is a perfect gift for our girl.  She loves that kind of thing.

I immediately spot a rabbit off the path.  We must be back in England.  

I love the juxtaposition of the autumn grass and the turquoise sea and how the cliffs meet the water.  I don't love how the wind whips little hairs into my eyes, obscuring my vision, so I wear my hat.

I love blackberry season in England.  I love seeing the flower, the ripe and unripe fruit all together.

I follow the kids down a hill, which then means I have to follow them up a steep path, and my knee of the two meniscus repairs screams at me for attempting such a thing.

At the top of the hill we sit and eat slices of the cookie cake I made for E.  It's a beautiful spot to celebrate her life.

"You must remember that this 

was in the old Merry England…

when the forests rang with knights 

walloping each other on the helm, 

and the unicorns in the wintry moonlight 

stamped with their silver feet 

and snorted their noble breaths of blue 

upon the frozen air.  Such marvels were great 

and comfortable ones.  

But in the Old England there was 

a greater marvel still.  

The weather behaved itself.”

- The Once and Future King, T.H. White -