Unbelievably glorious

Note to self: read this on one of the very cold, very dark days to come, when I'm wondering why on earth I agreed to move up north to the middle of nowhere...

In the stunning sunshine of the recent freak heat wave, our farmhouse and surrounding countryside looked unbelievably glorious: the pink morning glow oozing over the moor, the brook sparkling fresh from our spring, Pendle Hill looming out of a witch's mist, the view through BBQ smoke and our homemade pirate ship down the sheep-dotted valley... Mum, Dad and Skip the dog were here on their first visit and it felt like we were all on a magical holiday.

I promised myself that I wouldn't gush about rural life, because I know I'm only trying to make myself feel better about being stranded with no friends (well maybe two and a half now) and no cafes (at least within walking distance). But last week was an exception; one of those little gifts to treasure and peek at occasionally.

And one moment stands out in particular: Malcolm feeling the call of nature, stripping down to his boxers and wellies, and plunging himself under our secret waterfall. If I knew how to insert an image then I'd do it now, though maybe it looks better in the imagination...