In which I run like a gazelle. Or something.
This, perhaps, was happiness.
Sort of ready.
Trying to decide whether to take my children up their first mountain.
This summer I took up pier jumping.
It feels permanent; we hope it is.
After days of trekking, paddling and swimming, when it was too dark to read and I was almost too tired to speak, I got the kids to flex their imaginations.
Beautiful doesn't, however, mean safe.