I have been reliving my childhood over these last couple of weeks, doing with my children all those things that I remember spending long, idyllic summers doing. Paddling in rivers, bare feet on green mossy rocks, scrambling and slipping over stepping stones.
Even skinny dipping when we have got far enough off the beaten track. The water is clean and clear - icy cold as it tumbles down from the moor.
We have walked barefoot through woods and spinneys, the children's shrieks of laughter scattering the wildlife well before we arrive, although yesterday, alone and silent, I watched deer, and a fox watched me as I inspected her den, while the elusive raven pair, often heard, but rarely spotted, swooped low over my head.
The fern fronds are unfurling through the bluebells, and in a week or two will have smothered the flowers. But for now the blue carpet is glorious!
It makes my heart sing to see these things, and to watch my children playing as I used to. We are so privileged to live amongst this, to be able to walk in woods and on moor, to play in the rivers and streams and bogs, to have all this beauty and wilderness on our doorsteps. We can't afford holidays, but who cares? This is just the best place to be!