We hit the summer solstice yesterday, and I think the best thing about the abundance of light is that it makes short shrift of any urge to wallow. The Bug is two months, the Bean is impossible, and the nights... Let's just say that, had I had another winter baby, I would be spending these newborn weeks shuffling around like some kind of narcoleptic mole.
But as it happens there is light, there is colour. There is a semblance of warmth. It is impossible not to feel buoyed by it, no matter how many times I've whispered furiously (and fruitlessly) "stop singing please, you'll wake the baby".
With the Bug tucked up Snug in the sling, I set off. Up the hill, through the woods, past the fields. Sometimes armed with the big camera but usually not, for reasons of "feeling like a school-run pack horse already".
A pilfered flower here and there, plenty of deeep breaths, and a silent thank you to a sympathetic stranger; To anyone else successfully keeping two small people fed, clothed and reasonably happy without completely losing the plot themselves, you do, indeed, ROCK.
PS If you want to see what the landscape in southern Sweden looks like in winter, have a look at my ode to Brown