Friday Night Lights

My father picked us up at the train station.
He drove us home to Midsomer in snow and mist and teased me about being amazed by the beauty.
He's a city boy himself, but his four (six?) years as a permanent resident in the village gives him the right (he feels) to laugh at my constant oh's and ah's. I'm ok with that. I'm still better than him at finding mushrooms.
Though mom is by far the best forager, but that's stating the obvious.
Forager, you lovely word you.
It was a good weekend.
Sun and snow and sheep and food and sleep.
And now it's good to be back home.
Fire burning, tea and love by my side.
I hope you've had a good one too.
Especially you, miss ElizaHennessey.