When I was heavy with Albie, I used to waddle up this hill behind our house. It delivered a sweat and a welcome view of the sea. I still remember that feeling of total anticipation every time I am up here.
These days, our excitement on top of this hill is caused by even more basic rhythms of life. Parsley Season. We forage for baskets of it and make pesto. It’s worth the effort as it is beyond yummy – fresh and herbaceous. It gets eaten quickly.
This hill I talk of is called Mt Albert. It’s not much as far as mountains go, but how I love it. We didn’t realise the connection for weeks after Albie was born. And I kind of like that – like this place got inside us and quietly name-bombed our heads. It’s some kind of lovely to think that Albert is growing up in the crook of his namesake.
When we were in hospital, far away from here, at the other end of the country, how I hankered for this place. I got such great gobs of homesickness – the likes of which I hadn’t had since I was young. I was undoubtedly hankering not just for this place, but also for the simplicity, the health. that it represented. So on evenings on these, with this memory within me, and Albie tied close to us, life is beautiful.
We are connected here. Our small family, to our house on this hill. To this land and this sea. And connected to each other.
Photos by the amazing Victoria Vincent
Albie’s boy tights, only the coolest ever, Slugs n Snails
I wear a Sakura Bloom Simple Silk Sling in Midnight
This post is the second of six entries in The Sling Diaries, Vol. II Over the next six months, fifteen bloggers around the world are chronicling their adventures baby-wearing. Follow along here or here.