At last we have stopped moving. It has been an exhausting process. Everything is unpacked, most things are more-or-less where we want them, the kitchen is functioning, and the cat has decided which chair she prefers.
She was a very subdued little beast when she arrived on Wednesday, after 24 hours in transit. She spent most of her first day here hiding in a cubbyhole in the laundry, but by Saturday, she had decided that the house and her staff were satisfactory.
Our new home has a large backyard. It has lemon and grapefruit and peach and feijoa trees, and raised vegie gardens, which at present have ripening tomatoes and capsicums and zucchini. My lovely mother has brought me a herb garden, which I will plant up next weekend.
It has been a tiring week. But one evening as we came home, weary after trekking around buying school books and sticky stuff to cover them with, I found a beautiful orangey-red gerbera, which a new-met old friend had left for me. It cheered my heart.
And each day, I have been restored to peace by the view from our deck.
The girls call it Pemberley. Mister B and I call it “the big gaarden”.
The discerning will notice that it is in reality the local golf course. Our house is just above one of the far tees. We can see the golfers making their way around the course, and hear the thwack as they tee off below the house. But they do not intrude. My mother, who grew up on a farm, opined that they really are rather like sheep, there in the distance, making their way about they place, engaging in entirely predictable behaviour for the most part. But every now and then one of them does something just a little odd. Nothing much – just enough to vary the scene. It is a most pleasant outlook.
We are settled at last. For the time being.