Everything has lifted a little since the rain stopped. And today I heard a daffodil open. The kitchen was warm and I had a vase of buds on the table. Inside, it had fallen quiet. Max was perfecting his moping skills. Home from school, the sun shining, he went to lie on a bench in the garden. After a while he rolled over and lolled his head over the side of the bench, looking at the ground, his hair flopping down. I kept looking out of the kitchen window to see him examining the brickwork underneath him, or the moss, or a beetle, who knows... Moping on a sunny day, it's is an activity that feels exclusive to Max these days. Oli's too young to mope properly - he's either busy or tired. Watching Max, brought back to me that feeling I used to have, in elementary school, when we were told it was time to wear our summer uniform. No more those scratchy grey flannel kilts and polyester shirts (with a tie), now it was officially summer and time for the turquoise tartan tunic, and the smell of fresh cut grass.
All I could hear were the birds. Oli and Jack were both sleeping. I stopped to take in the silence and heard the crinkle of bursting daffodil buds.