Tree Fall

Just a sunday..

It turned out that the incredible sunset on Saturday evening lived up to it's "red sky at night, sailors delight" promise, because we woke up yesterday to a beautifully warm and sunny day.

(Jim in particular loves seeing the girls playing in their trees, in their garden).

I was supposed to spend the day finishing the tiling in our bathroom and painting Lily's bedroom. But when we saw how sunny and warm it was we decided to head to the Botanical Gardens instead.

The first time we visited the gardens we bought the yearly family membership, so we can choose to just pop there for lunch (the restaurant is very good indeed) or have a wander around the beautiful gardens whenever we want.

 

The Gardens aren't huge, but they are full of colour all year round and I love that they actively encourage you to leave the path and tramp through the undergrowth and run on the grass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the great things about going to the Botanics is that you can combine it with a walk down to Steephill Cove.

 

 

 

The 25th of October and it was too warm to wear coats! The beach was pretty busy and because it has a couple of really nice cafe's, there were lots of people enjoying ice creams (Bella got a bubble gum flavoured one, which I thought was horrible) and italian coffee (no polystyrene cups of watery coffee at Steephill!).

 

 

The tide was out further than we've seen before, so it was perfect for rock pooling. You can't tell in these pictures but there were children running all over the rocks, screaming with delight everytime they found a crab and there were some huge ones to be found!

 

 

 We had only intended to be out for a couple of hours, so that we could still do some work on the house, but it was so glorious that we figured it would be silly not to make the most of it, so ended up staying out all afternoon.

Steephill Cove is a very fitting and descriptive name. The only way to get to and from the cove is up some very steep paths, but it's so worth the climb.  And the view from half way up is beautiful (I'm going to have to start coming up with new superlatives).

 

 

On the way home, we stopped at a viewing point on the cliffs, so that Lily and I could watch the sunset (Jim and Bella were being boring and stayed in the car).

 

 

 

I know I keep saying it, but the fact that this is all just there, on our doorstep for us to enjoy on the spur of the moment, really is incredible to me.

Of course, everything isn't perfect all of the time. We still have tears and the girls miss their friends in Leeds. And it is never lost on me that we would not be here if mum hadn't died and that's a pretty bloody big price to pay for all of this.  But for me, dealing with the day to day tears and arguments and general annoyances is so much easier when I can look up and see all of this.

 

Sunset

 

 

I promise that I'll get back to writing about more than just the Isle of Wight at some point. You never know,  I may even sew again one day, but until then I just have to share more of this with you.

It's not often that we all stop what we're doing and rush outside, but tonight we did. It was so incredible that for a split second  I honestly thought that the sky was on fire.

There are so many moments these days when I just stop and stand, in awe at where I live and just how stunning it all is. And I am grateful every single time.

Tonight I was standing in our porch cutting tiles for the bathroom wall, when I saw the reflection of the sunset in the tile cutter (I kid you not!).

You would think that Jim and I would run out of awe, and maybe we will one day (and let me lay down and die the day that happens!) but it hasn't happened yet. And for good reason. That last photo is taken from our garden gate, the first from our porch (and none have been taken using filters).

The view I used to have from my garden gate was very different indeed! 

 

 

 

Words

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lily has always struggled. She was such a difficult pregnancy, with injections every week to try and stop me from losing her, and scans every week to see if she was still alive. After 7 miscarriages I really didn't believe that she would survive, and sadly I really didn't enjoy a single moment of the pregnancy.

But from the second that she was born I loved her with every single miniscule part of my being. And I knew from day one that she was incredible and that my bond with her could never be broken.

But from day one she struggled. Born allergic to dairy and gluten, she screamed and cried until we found her a special formula to feed her. Then as soon as she started to try to communicate we realised there was something wrong and at 2 she was diagnosed with verbal dyspraxia and had to have speech therapy constantly until last year. At only three she had a terrible 6 month long episode that led to her seeing a psychiatrist and manifested itself with a self loathing that completely broke my heart.

When she started school she struggled even more. It was not a school that understood her (although she had one wonderful, amazing teacher who could completely see her for who she is) and she was glaringly different to all the children in her year. She has always loved to learn and has an amazing capacity and thirst for knowledge, but school made her feel isolated and different and just plain wrong. She hated going to school. She hated it so much that there were days when I had to carry her to the car in her pyjama's, just so that I could get Bella to school on time, and then drive home and fight to get her dressed, to drive her to school an hour late. She hated it so much that she would be crying before she even woke up in the mornings. I once turned up early for an assembly, and watched unseen, as Lily stood alone in the playground, for the whole of playtime. The next day I lied to school and said she had a dr's appointment and took her out of school for the whole of lunch time, purely so she didn't have to spend it alone.

When I made the decision to move away from Leeds, I knew that we had to go somewhere that would allow Lily to understand that she is truly wonderful. And when we brought her to the Island for the first time, I could see her visibly relax. I could see her breathe out, finally. And when we visited the school and learned that there were only 12 children in her entire year, and she talked to them all and wanted to start there and then, we knew we were doing the right thing.

3 weeks after we moved here, Lily and I went for a walk on the beach, and she literally marvelled at the beauty. As we walked along she looked at me and said " I can never imagine being angry here. Thank you for knowing that this would make me feel right". She said those exact words and I stood there and cried.

Since we've been here, Lily has discovered that she's not different, or unusual. She's discovered a class full of children that want to learn the way she does, and that feel the way she does. She has transformed from a child stood alone on the edge of the playground, to a child voted by her peers to be on the school council. She's transformed from a child desperately pretending to be the same as everyone else, to being a child that comes home almost every day with an invitation to go to a friends to play.

When I told her teacher that she struggled at her last school, she shook her head and said these words "Lily fits in so well here that I can not imagine the class without her".

Those words are some of the best words I've ever heard.

 

Home

Let me show you around our new home a little... It's going to be a work in progress for a long time, but it's so lovely that even while building work is going on it's still going to be possible to make it look nice.

Our front door is original (pretty much everything is), and has an incredible stone porch, with original wooden benches. I love that I can fill it with pumpkins this year!

 

This corner is not quite sitable in yet, but it will be. And I will spend time sitting in it, enjoying the view inside and out.

 

 

The view from my beautiful yellow reading chair. It's a view that makes me so happy.

 

The original style of the house is Arts and Crafts. It's not from that period, but the original (and until us, only) owner obviously felt an affinity with it, and managed to recreate many aspects of an Arts and Craft home, all of which are still here.

The staircase, which leads off the entrance hall with it's open brick fire, was one of the first things that sold the house to us. We're still trying to work out how and whether to have a stair runner, but the bare wood is beautiful (just a little loud when our not too light footed children run up and down them).

 

 

The sittingroom doesn't look like this now that all of our boxes have been delivered, but even on a grey day the light in here is incredible. It is far and away my favourite room in the house and I can not wait to experience every single season in it!

Like I said, there's going to be a lot of work to do, but this is most definitely our home and all 5 of us love it.

We did it...

Three years ago today I woke up to a new life. It was not a life that I wanted or asked for. It was a life full of pain and grief. It was a life that scared me senseless. Three years ago today I woke up knowing, but not comprehending, that I would never see my Mum again.

The last three years have not been how I wanted my life to be. It has not been how I wanted my daughters lives to be. We have all been permanently scarred by what life has thrown at us and it has affected how we see the world and the people around us.

Almost two years ago I woke up knowing that this could not continue. That it all had to change. That my daughters, the most important people in my life and the only reason that I was still waking up in the morning, could not continue living the lives they were living. They deserved so much more. They deserved a school that cherished them and friends that loved them. They deserved to be able to explore and play and have fun, knowing that they were safe. They deserved to be surrounded by beauty and to know how important that beauty is. They deserved everything that I could possibly give them.

Three years ago today, I woke up knowing that everything had changed beyond repair.

Three years later I wake up in my new life.

Today.

I still hurt, I still grieve, and I still cry.

But our lives are now completely different.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life here on the Isle of Wight is everything we had hoped for, and as much as we need. We can't change the last 3 years and we can't have Mum back. But we can change our future.

And we have.