Down by the Riverside....and coming home.

I'm having lunch - creamy spinach soup, seeded bread, and later, honey soaked baclava cubes -   in the company of two dear artist friends who used to look after Robin sometimes, with great TLC, giving me the break I so needed at the time. We are in the home of one of them - a beautiful grade 2 listed house in waving distance of the river Exe and the Quay. It's such a familiar place - the walk down by the riverside  - Robin and I must have done it so many times and walked so near her house without realising it. It's lovely to know she is there.

When I leave, this ruffled robin is singing in the branches of a clematis Montana very close to her front door. I do feel that every time I see or hear a robin it is a sign that my beloved is never very far away either.

And I re-trace our steps,  following the path beside the deep wide river which brought wool and wealth to this city in medieval times.

Today it brings me  feeding and flying swans, catkins, bridges and sunshine glinting on the water and good times memories.

Driving home it feels like I've been visiting a place I used to know, where I used to live, just a subtle shift but somehow it feels different now that the river isn't a 5 minute drive away from our house.

But what is familiar, and a lovely welcome sight when I pull into the drive, are the sheep, heads down, grazing  in the field under the wide branched plane tree, the sound of the running stream, and the quietness of the kitchen when I open the back door, the lingering smell of garlic and daffodils and open tulips greeting me like lapping waves.