It’s summer, in case any of you hadn’t noticed. And it’s beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I don’t even want to write about it because I don’t feel I could do it justice.
Instead I snap another photo of my youngest with his hen. I’m not even sure if this hen is his favourite hen or whether he is her favourite boy. They’re permanently attached, at any rate.
The garden is still under construction and my husband slogs away on each of his days off. He works like a champ and my heart bursts with pride at how hard he’s working for our family right now.
He comes home from work with some ear defenders for my eldest to wear at the truck racing this weekend; remembering how he finds the noise a little overwhelming.
He pops to the bank and returns with fresh bread and Chelsea buns. He makes us cheese and pickle sandwiches that taste so much better for not having to have made them myself.
He kicks the football with the boys over and over and over.
The boys pester him to show them how to use the drill. So he does. Once, twice, again. Then the middle boy, then the youngest. Then it’s, ‘can I clamp that piece of wood, Dad?’ And I see him falter, wanting to get the job done and instead he says, ‘yep, come on then.’
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
July is spinning hazily away from me. The days tumble ever closer to August and the dog days of summer. But as I sit back and watch my family, I realise how irrelevant time really is. The only time I need to understand is what’s right here in front of me.
Apple keep emailing me telling me I’m almost out of storage space. I don’t care. I keep snapping endless photos of the same beautiful faces, of cuddling chickens, of riding bikes, my children sleeping, vague attempts at getting all three to look in the same direction.
Because one day, memories of these endless summers with small boys will be just that: stilted, fading memories.
In the meantime, my husband slipped out of bed at 4.30 this morning to go to work. The least I can do right now is put the kettle on and head out onto a patio still warm from the late afternoon sun. The boys are asleep, exhausted after a park meet with home ed. friends. We’ll sit and enjoy coffee, him and I. Here and now.