In The Sky of my Heart

12th April 2012 Thursday

Might just possibly have discovered the best cream tea ever.

This afternoon we drive north towards Somerset and Exmoor following a silver streak of river, a white mountain range of clouds above us, bowed heads of daffodils in the hedgerows, blackthorn in full speckled blossom and lambs sprayed in every field like cotton wool balls.

We meet up with my sister and her husband and pay a visit to a new art gallery - Number 41 - owned by some friends in Watchet, - a medieval building lovingly restored, brick by brick, its gleaming white interior and slate floor a perfect foil for the brightness of the pictures and ceramics.

And then on to Binham Grange at Old Cleeve and THE cream tea. We sit in a beautiful walled garden, blankets over our knees - mine anyway. The tea is hot and fragrant, the cups deep and elegant, the scones tender and oven warm, the strawberries in the jam are whole glistening rubies and the scoops of clotted cream drip like liquid silk from our knives. I find it best not to talk and eat at the same time careful not to miss the joy of every mouthful. And glad we only had a small salad for lunch.

And could it be that the this new pulse of happiness, of hope, threading through my day is because I remembered that my husband isn’t his disability? And that I never stopped loving him. I just got horribly diverted into the woods of fear. And forgot that a rainbow can appear at any time in the sky of my heart.