Making the best of it.

So far the weather has always been kind to us in Freddie’s birthday. It feels like a blessing, of sorts, though I know it can’t be really. We’ve always been able to have an outside sort of day.

This year was a happy day, in the circumstances. I find it increasingly strange that it can be so.

We visited Bury St Edmunds for lunch.

I like the ruins there; I have a soft spot for William Marshall anyway and his name is on a plaque but it feels like a place to be at ease in; history being used for the every day, relics in a park, being played on.

After that we went to Anglesey Abbey.

Fran has to write Freddie’s name each year; somehow I knew she would do it in twigs.

The boy played and the girl mooched. It felt right.

There was a lot of laughing on the side of a bank when Bene discovered sliding.

The yarn bomb felt like a hello.

And there were a lot of daffodils and beautiful trees.

Some time to stop and think and cuddle.

And be gorgeous.

And hug a tree.

And enjoy each other’s company.

Home to beautiful flowers from my sister.

Family dinner beneath the garland we hung that morning.

Candles and tears at bedtime.

It was a good day. But it would have been better with the birthday boy.