A sudden desire to be out of the house, out in the open, out - just out, made Himself and I spontaneously pack a picnic and persuaded Youngest to leave his laptop and come with us and set off. Set off - just out.
The air was biting, our hands felt brittle and noses icy. I took knitting with the plan to knit as we drove along but the views kept calling to me. So my camera came out instead. During our lunch stop, Youngest and I wandered through wild moorland down to a stream where a Viking longhouse lays buried under grass and reeds. Each summer archaeology students unearth the building and delve into the past, then when finished carefully return the turf and cover the longhouse for the winter.
The roads we chose were narrow and winding, high up on the moors where stock animals graze. Youngest opened and closed several gates as we went along.
My knitting, which on Saturday I did not really care for, sang in the late afternoon sunshine. Mirroring the colours of the hill side. I could feel myself gently falling for it....I hope it lasts.