Its finally here, May day has been and gone. The girls danced the traditional dance through our small streets, they smiled and skipped for miles and miles. The music played and we were transported back to another time. The rain poured but after the celebrations the sun shone, we sat on the harbour wall and the children found their friends. In a small town its that easy to do.
The bluebells have shown them selves and the roadsides are alive with colour and flowers. Cow slips, wild garlic and primroses. We found a magical garden over looking a river. It was stunning, a robin followed us around hopping and looking, hoping for a crumb. We found a bee resting, drunk with pollen.
We have had beach parties and beach BBqs, we have been cold but done it all the same. The girls have played beach cricket and danced in the waves. The surf has been good and they have enjoyed the see, even the little one, at last!
I love this time of year although it could be warmer, we make the most of what we have. At the weekend we rode our bikes through the bluebell woods. I couldn’t have felt happier at that point, it was so peaceful and stunning and the flower girls so happy. We ate our lunch and chatted about this and that just enjoying the space. The tall trees sheltering us from the odd spots of rain.
Looking forward to the Cornish summer but at the same time loving the feeling of newness everywhere and the still empty beaches. Its that special time of waking up before the summer in our little town that’s still slightly sleepy.
We had a day in the kitchen, the flower girls and I. Together we baked biscuits and cakes. We slaved all day. They love getting messy and the kitchen was filled with chatter and laughter and fabulous smells. Its good for the soul and the weather was appalling. In our warm kitchen, the heart of our home together we bonded and created. At the end of the day we collapsed in a heap and watched a film. I hope the love I have for cooking stays with them, I hope its etched its way into their hearts.
Aged six and 4 months the first tooth has come out. Of course the fairy came, she has her own door, she left a shiny coin and a note and her door is funky! The little Fleur was over joyed, she wasn’t sure if she would have to share her fairy and her sisters fairy door, but that wasn’t the case. The coin wasn’t saved to be sacred forever, but put in a jam jar to save for a transformer!
The winter has been harsh, we have had rain and gales, high seas and crashing waves. The wind has whistled through our home and spooked our cats. One night we ventured into a quaint harbourside town, so much smaller than ours, seeped in even more legend and history. The wind was so strong it nearly blew us away and made the little one cry. We holed up in the only pub, the fire was lit and the fishermen were on dry land, drinking the bar dry. I felt safe and warm and knew this is what the wild Cornish winters were all about, finding your sanctuary and safe haven.
We had friends come to stay and we took them to another town, a town filled with art and wonderful views, but alas the storms took hold again and we could only jump out of the car and run for the save haven of a coffee shop this time. The sea raged and looked angry, and again the little one cried. I worry about her childhood memories of our life here on the remote shores.
The following day the sun did shine, though the wind was bitter, even sunny corner was struck, but we walked round to another beach in our little town and found a sheltered spot, the children played with waves, and got soaked, we painted rocks and built the first sandcastles of the year. The sea looked less fearful and we found two dead sharks on the shore, which saddened us but intrigued us all the same.
I took our friends to my favorite beach which I only discovered last year, yet so close to home, I dream of living there one day, even if only for a summer, I wanted to share it with them. The waves crashed in and we had to walk further up the beach to find sand, it was an adventure. The children ran with crazy dogs and laughed and played. We drank tea from a flask and fed the littles ones cake to keep them going. On arrival home, windswept and wet with frizzy hair we felt alive and felt we had survived. So be the Cornish Winter.
It was one of those days, the sun shone and you drift down to the Harbour side, I even packed a picnic! We settled down with our sandwiches and salads only to see our friends up the beach, then more. Friends left kids with us to stay and play, some went off shopping with calls of will you still be here when we get back? It was one of those lovely Cornish days when you realise you know so many people, we all go to the same places and we all meet up with no plans too. It was one of those days where the beach calls abd we all gather. I cant tell you how stunning our little town looked today, how pretty the sea and how happy the children were. We went home with leggings rolled up to the knees soaking wet and sand caked to our feet. It feels good to be back, it wont be long before this is commonplace. I cant wait!
The rest of our day was filled with Tennis and Art. We go to one of the few places where the courts overlook the sea, its so special. The Art was a community project where we are designing tiles to tile our Harbour front. I hope we will have a little piece of history in our town forever.
So many little events happen here and I try to involve the children as much as possible. Unfortunately some happen during school time now, so those days are gone, following the Cornish Music through the town while children dance. I hate the fact that they miss this, its so important, but they do. But things that happen at weekends we embrace and get involved. I want them to grow up here loving the town as we do and feeling a part of it.
This year for the first time we wrote to father Christmas; The Bluebell only asked for one soft toy and the little one for nothing, she wrote that she hopes father Christmas has a nice time!
We went to a farm this year to buy our tree, the farmers wife was not impressed I arrived with no wellies as we were supposed to trek across the muddy fields to chose our tree ourselves. We chose the one that had been cut. I actually this year wanted to buy one from a supermarket in a pot but was stopped in my tracks when the bluebell girl told me the meaning of Christmas for her, and it went like this; ” Christmas for me is to be lifted up high to place the star on the very top” then she added in her dry voice she has ” and those Tescos ones are so small I could just place it on with no help at all” I laughed, but loved that’s what Christmas is about, she has an old fashioned soul.
The usual madness of Christmas has started, me dashing about trying to squeeze it all in, the days flying by. School plays and discos and church services, its all go. But in a lovely way. The kids are so excited and happy. The harbour town we live in is finally twinkling with lights and all good with the world.
So the baby of the family turns six. I cant believe it the time has passed so fast. Her party seemed to involve hundreds of children, about 50 really, but it felt like hundreds! . It was fun and crazy, a magic show, fireworks, sparklers, lots of fun and noise. She was on stage with her friend , the two of them made a great double act! Her face when the cake came out was a amazing, she loves the attention and the wonder. The next day we took a family holiday where we swam and shot down water slides. It was fun and the girls embraced it all. The little one did her first rapids and was hooked, we had to shoot down them so many times in the day. I am battered and bruised, but happy. It was this month we also took a visit ‘home’ the town where us parents were born. The girls love it here, there’s a sense of belonging to an extended family. The time spend with friends children is amazing , a true connection. We went to a festival of light for the hindu celebration and then a celebration of light at Longleat. Fleur decided that she would be living n a house just like the Thai palace, while the bluebell girl stared in wonder at the dragon. The house was beautiful and the fairy tale characters enchanting, but nothing beat the big cats.
This brings me onto the tail or tale or poor Tom Chestnut, our little black rescue cat. Last February he was knocked by a car. We had a long journey of trying to save a very manky tail. The lovely girls took it all in their stride, they loved him and cared for him, through the dripping blood for weeks to the massive bandages, the countless visits to the vets, they never gave up hope for him to save his tail. Their kindness made me proud. But the drawing that came home of the cat with the red tail made me laugh and the cat with the bandaged tail. The clay cat made at school whose head them fell off made me chuckle, but the little one wasn’t upset by this mishap she shrugged it all off, as she does with many a mishap in life. The (real) cats tail had to go in the end, we could not save it. Cries of ” its his nature. you cant cut it off” will always be with me. But it had to go, and again they nursed and loved him back to health and he loves them so much for it.