The Memory

Recently we went for a walk high up in the mountains. We stood in the clearings of dense, damp woodland watching the mist drift peacefully across the peaks; staggered villages dominated by terracotta roofs nestled warmly within their folds. It was so quiet up there and the higher we went the more beautiful it became, but what goes up, must come down. So we ran; Milla in front, tail wagging, tongue panting. Us two, connected by the hands of a small one. We whooped and shouted with joy as we did so, our laughter echoing through the valleys. And I thought: “I hope this is one of her first memories.”


There are a million moments where I wonder ‘will she remember this?’ Will this slither of time be the one that she reminisces about one day as an adult? I hope so, because it was so much fun and a true time of togetherness. My first memory is of staring up at mum pushing me along in a pram. It was a summer’s day and I remember a red dress, a white canopy and tall trees. She tells me it could be true and not just my imagination, but maybe I’ll never know if it was a dream or not. In the next I am 3, I know this because of the dress I was wearing and I am running around the garden chasing a butterfly … it’s summer again. Is it always summer in our memories?


Well our week has been busy, busy, busy, which has been fabulous, but exhausting for me, she who suffers from meeting-new-people-nerves. However, my nervousness was unnecessary because the people we have met have all been utterly lovely, inspiring and kind. There have been beers in village cafes with new friends, meeting lots of people who all got together to help with the preparations of a Yurt - although I admit I did not do much other than paddle in the wonderful waterfall with Isabella, watching daddy saw and hammer in the heat of the day. Well, someone has to keep an eye on the little one, right?! And then there has been coffee by the riverside with a blogging friend please check out her delightful artwork :-)

But, I hear you ask, what now after a couple of wonderful weeks in the Green Heart of Portugal? Well, we have decided to head to Spain. We were going to the exact same place – our friend’s 10 acre olive farm in Extremadura – this time last year so it’s quite bizarre, but we need some time to reassess our plans, see an old friend and enjoy some time in a house … ‘a house!’ she cries with delight! Oh yes, after 7 weeks in a tiny space, it’s perfect timing for a break.


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