We were watched all the way, by the birds and the stones…and I watched the bracken uncurl its final fronds and the heather begin to unfurl its petals. It seems such a long time since I was last in the north… two whole months! I have no idea how I survived a twenty-odd year exile without even one trip back to ‘my’ hills. I only know that I am grateful that I now get to go north. Whenever I pass that invisible line that divides the beautiful south from the wild and wonderful north, my heart sings.
The weekend passed all too quickly, though very productively. We shared a lovely dinner with friends, finalised a new book and walked some of the sites we will visit for the September workshop…and the heather is just beginning to show the first traces of colour before coming into bloom. Next time, it will be glorious. Now I am back in the south and waiting, armed with a new tennis ball, for the small dog. I don’t know sometimes if I have two homes, north and south… or none. But I know where my heart is…
France & Vincent 
We knew where her heart was, too!
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