We are still infused with the holiday pace. Lazy mornings, long breakfasts, gentle walks, afternoon naps, long reading sessions, copious amounts of tea. It's a pace that requires little planning and therefore hardly any thought.
On our way up to the river house we stopped off at Morpeth for some sourdough and a coffee. We spent a few hours wandering the (partly) cobblestone high street, perusing antiquities and taste testing honey and ginger beer. Hard work.
From there we drove, zig-zagging through the country, spotting cows on the hillside, tin shacks near the road. Over the river, across the bridge, and at the foot of the Barrington Tops we found our abode, a house built in 1850 complete with a full commercial kitchen, exquisite bathrooms, to-die-for views and ripe grapes on the vine.
We drove into the closest town a few times - sampled the coffee, checked out real-estate and discovered the church op-shop (oh the vintage sheets!). Not a day went by when I didn't think about living deep in the hills, cushioned by quiet. I think, like many of you no doubt, my dreams of settling in the country with a cottage and a little bit of land are constant. But that dream won't come to fruition for me just yet. And that's ok.
I'm remembering the wise words of a friend...bloom where you're planted. I'm going to take them with me, right through 2012.
Top photo by Daniel, the rest by yours truly