Looking at these pictures of a warm week, last summer, I can feel the grass under my feet again.
The garden so lush and colourful; even more wild, more magical than it had ever been. The children are running around, too fast for my camera to capture them. So I photograph the colours, the drops of water, the little paper crafts hung in the bushes.
Being on the farm in the summer is so different than our visits in the winter. The winterdays are dark, naps and knitting by the oven. The house seems so much smaller then. In the summer we run through the garden, climbing in trees, climbing on people, juicy fruit making everyone sticky. Cheeky smiles and just so much joy.
We had a party, the first party again (and the last one since then). Children making gintonics and getting everybody drunk. Dancing and dancing until the grass turned into mud and we had to take off our shoes. Ich liebe dich. And then; 2 at night, the 8-year-old runs inside the house and returns with the clock, eyes and cheeks bright red, but so happy she is still awake. "Ich bin noch wach!!!" Cheers all over, and we carry her (to bed) like a champion, chanting her name.
