May 13, 2013

small joys.

The scent of kindling and dry grass crackling on a campfire. The smoke makes eyes water and throats turn dry. As the sparks rise up to join the stars we begin to sing. Dad's deep baritone voice rings clear as he sings the first line in 'Doe, a deer'. Soon, Laura's soft soprano joins in at the chorus. Our voices mingle with the gentle crackling of the firewood. As we burn our fingers on our last toasted marsh mellow, the fire dies down to a hot ash. Goodnight.
We are all bundled into a quiet, corner cafe. The strong aroma of roasted coffee beans and perfume fills our senses. We order hot drinks and two bowls of beer, battered chips. The conversation around the table is little; we are enjoying this precious time as a family. When we are ready to leave, the family staff waves goodbye and wishes us a safe afternoon. "This is precious, methinks."


  1. And this post is precious, methinks.

  2. Your posts always have a gentle wildness about them. I love it.

  3. Briony this is beautiful, I love the photos of the campfire! They were two lovely weekends spent together. :)


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