Kiwis and Fairy Bread

21 September 2025

I am sitting here on the deck of our glamping pod looking out on one of the most beautiful views I have ever seen. The peaked hills in colors of green and rust make a stark outline against a clear, near cloudless bright blue sky. It is the first clear sky we have seen for a week and a half. The air is crisp and cold and still. It feels good in my lungs as I breathe slow and deep.

Mike has just brought me a steaming cup of milky black tea. Sigh.

Patches of pastureland are a vivid shade of bright green, the very same color as the painted trim in my childhood bedroom. Other patches are in shadow, deepening the green hue, the grass tinged with frost.

The rushing water seems louder now than in the rain. No doubt the river is near swelling after the week’s soaking rains. If I were to again climb the waterfall behind us is it may well be impassable.

The sheep do not notice this change from gray to blue, drenching to dry, damp to crisp. They are the same. I am reminded of a line from Dicken’s Our Mutual Friend when the character of Eugene Rayburn, a man bored throughout his life, is falling in love with the perfect, yet socially unacceptable Lizzie Hexam. Standing in a sheep field, he debates whether to or not to take her as his lover. To paraphrase, he looks at the sheep admiringly and says “you seem to get through life tolerably, I suppose”. At this moment, these sheep certainly are content. And so am I.

Patch the pup has found another sheep’s ear to snack on. His equally scruffy and adorable little friend has run up to me for some scratches. I happily oblige.

The silhouettes of climbers are already on the summit of Catbells. I honor the peak with a salute.

Truly I would love nothing more than to stay in this spot all day, week, month….

But our time in the lakes is ending and the pleasures of Bath await.

Farewell Lake District. Until we return again.