More

I like it more and more here in Crowthorne. I love getting out to see new places, researching where to go, reading books and searching the Internet. My brain is happiest when we are tramping through woods walking from one town to another.

The other morning as I was walking home from dropping off the boys at school I admitted to myself that I don't want this to end. I want more adventure.

Our time here is coming to an end and we are starting to figure out how to get home. I walked in the house and told Mike, "Let's not go home!"

"What!?" He replied.

I have to add that I have been DYING to go home nearly the entire time we have been here, save for a week or two here and there.

We have a trip planned to visit Rome soon, it's a two and a half hour flight from here. So close. And there are so many other places I want to see. I want to visit Rainy in Bali, live in the holy land, live in Australia, try new foods, speak other languages. I am desperate to see and do more.

Meanwhile, we have a life in Tucson, we have children and family we miss every second. We have friends and a community we love. And there are adventures to be had in Arizona, petroglyphs, ruins, canyons and mountain tops to explore.

Talking it over with Mike, I started to see this desire to stay comes from greed. I want more, and I don't think I will ever be satisfied.

These words from the song The Dog Days Are Over by Florence and the Machine, speak to me:

And I never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had
And what was left after that too.

I think there is so much truth to that. We don't want to want, yet we do.

It is a gift to suddenly be able to feel the greed. For some reason, it calms me down seeing it so clearly.

So we are making plans to come home.

I want to go to hot yoga, lunch, dinner and movies with Anna and William, have the grilled cheese sandwich at Feast, drink wine in Barb's back yard, squish my nieces, hike Sabino with my sister, go for a run with Amy, Zemam it with Felicia, snuggle up with Teresa, plan a time management seminar with Kara, I want I want I want I want.

The Dog Days Are Over

Happiness, hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

Run fast for your mother run fast for your father
Run for your children for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind you
Can't carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
Can you hear the horses
'Cause here they come

And I never wanted anything from you
Except everything you had
And what was left after that too. oh.

Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back
Struck from a great height
By someone who should know better than that

The dog days are over
The dog days are gone
Can you hear the horses
'Cause here they come

Run fast for your mother and fast for your father
Run for your children for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind you
Can't carry it with you if you want to survive

The dog days are over
The dog days are gone
Can you hear the horses
Because here they come

The dog days are over
The dog days are gone
Can you hear the horses
Because here they come

Romsey and Mottisfont Abbey

With our neighbors we visited the town of Romsey, Hampshire and the nearby Mottisfont Abbey.

It was a chilly day, right about 0 degrees C, so we brought along these hats I bought at Tesco. They are 100% synthetic and it shows, despite the small effort to make them appear animal in origen.

Stick!

Etsuko, on the other hand, was wearing a warmie that was most definitely once a soft, fuzzy, delightful creature. Our boys soon complained of itchy heads.

Mottisfont Abbey

From Wikipedia:

An Augustinian priory was founded here in 1201 by William Briwere, a businessman, administrator and courtier to four Plantagenet kings who chose to make a public demonstration of his wealth and piety. The canons welcomed pilgrims en route to Winchester, who came to worship Mottisfont's relic, said to be the finger of St John the Baptist.

Then the Black Death came along and stole their thunder.

River Test.

This past week our family was hit by a lesser plague, the flu. It wasn't the Black Death, but I did manage to feel sorry for myself.

Mike was in Amsterdam for the week, leaving me with fever and misery to care for our equally sad boys.

On one unfortunate night, Dominic rolled over and vomited in the well placed bucket next to our bed, then realized to his extreme distress that Mr. Teddy Wiggles had rolled into the bucket first.

For the next half hour he moaned, "Mr. Teddy Wiggles, Mr. Teddy Wiggles!"

At the abbey, there was a display of angels made by 12 artists, and the boys had a great time finding them.

During the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the reign of King Henry VIII, the priory was dissolved, and Mottisfont was given to Sir William Sandys. Richard Meinertzhagen (interesting/frightening character) lived here with his parents and nine siblings in the late 1800's.



Fallen Angel.



Mosaic angel by Boris Anrep, 1930s.

Angel in the Cellarium.

After spending some time rolling down and up small hills in front of the abbey, we left to have lunch and see the town of Romsey. It is supposed to be the most beautiful town in Hampshire, but I am not so sure. We did have a wonderful lunch at the Old House at Home Pub, we all highly recommend it.

Kyle shared his DS, which led to a rare brother snuggle moment.
I could stare at this photo all day.

God how we love Etsuko, John and Kyle. We are forever blessed and grateful that life made us neighbors.

Rocky rocky.

Kissing curl.

Upper Woodford Valley

Our kitchen floor is heated. The boys roll around on it and I love to plop down and hang out down there, something we will miss.

A few weeks ago we walked the Upper Woodford Valley in Wiltshire, which lies between the stone circles of Amesbury to the north and Stonehenge to the south.

We started at the Bridge Inn, in the small village of Upper Woodford. I found the walk online on an official visit Wiltshire website, but the directions were hard to follow and we got off course more than once.

I don't mind getting off course, as long as we have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apples and water to feed the troops.

Look Jim, horses with raincoats!

Part of the problem is not having a printer, I hand write all of the directions, trimming as many of the words as I can.

We made it over the River Avon to the mill house,

Sticks in action.

into the town of Durnford.

Black Horse Pub, the sign says, "Yerbusterd!" I have no idea what that means.

The walk passes through Durnford, then follows the road in a sharp right up and around a hill. We had another detour here near the manor house, before finding the right path. This is probably 1.5 hours into the walk and Michael had been complaining for all of it, minus the first 10 minutes. His legs hurt, his side hurt, he was tired, we were too bossy, the list was long.

Snails hibernating, we had never noticed them before. 

About this time, we questioned again if we were really on the right path, so Mike stopped two guys jogging in the woods and asked if this was the way to Wilsford. They said yes, while confusing us further about how to get there. Then they mentioned that as we pass the next large house we should listen for bass guitar music playing...because who lives in Wilsford?

Sting!

Can you see the house?

And Trudy, of course. And lots of very relaxed swans. They have a draw bridge. The house is lovely, and smaller than I would have guessed.

Mud!

The path cuts off at their house and there is no getting past it, despite the walk's directions to continue on. Believe me, we tried. And no bass guitar to be heard.

We turned around.

To entertain Michael who kept up with his list of complaints, I started to imagine a Roman soldier heading out on his daily 20 kilometer march, followed by road building or battle. We imagined what it would be like if he started complaining 10 minutes into the march and kept it up the whole time. Michael kicked it in gear and marched for the next 17 minutes. I sang the only marching song I know, actually a cheer from SHS.

Left, left, left, right left
My back aches, my belt's too tight,
my hips shake from left to right
Say mmm, m-gowwa, got to get some Cougar power!
Mmm, m-gowwa, got to get some Cougar power!

I sang that over and over about 20 times.

Until he collapsed and played dead for a few minutes.

When he got up he asked me if I was thought he really was dead.

Then as we passed a beautiful country home Mike asked the gentlewoman of the house if the Black Horse was a good pub. She said the pub is very good, the food is good, and if the landlord is rude, don't worry about it, that is just how he is. The boys were intrigued by her "recommendation" and were completely disappointed when we found we were too late for lunch.

"Where's the angry chef!!??"

As we walked back to the Bridge Inn, Dominic and I held hands. Giant leafless trees (oak or chestnut?) lined the path and as we walked I was mesmerized looking up into the branches and the sky beyond. I love this beautiful country.

We were very proud of our guys for walking for four hours with very little rest!



Here is the link to the walk
http://www.visitwiltshire.co.uk/dbimgs/walk%2012.pdf

Tucsonans we miss you so much, cannot wait to rejoin our desert kin. Love love love!