I write this, listening to the ringing noise of cicadas and no less ringing baby talk of children below. Somewhere in a nearby hill, cows are being redone by our bells. My desk is on a spacious wooden balcony from which a fairy tale is broadcast: the Bukovynian Carpathians, in all their gentle, tremendous beauty.
Igor swings on the swing below, goats grazing past him. Next to our chalet is one of the coziest holiday lodges in which we had to stay — a contact zoo were sheep, goats, rabbits, horses, and I don't even know who else.
Tonight — or maybe tomorrow, because we are in no hurry, we will have a fire in the living room and read the books aloud.
In the meantime, I just inhale the thick, honey, the evening, such a very floral, very spicy, extremely warm smell, look away, write and can not restrain my unlimited gratitude for the wonders that just happen.
Yesterday, we didn't even think about summer vacation — because our little Dream House is growing a little bit, and our jobs didn't predict a weakening of the schedule. However, having received an invitation from the Quiet Farm, we simply could not refuse - and everything in an incomprehensible way went into a very correct mosaic. Today, after a road with fabulous views beyond the windows of a car, we find ourselves here in a wooden house on top of a mountain, with a large fireplace in the living room, with a very cozy kitchen, with two charming bedrooms on the second floor, with a large wooden swing and barbecue in the mini-yard.
There is so much to do here — hippotherapy, sleep in the hives, outdoor exercise machines, menagerie, various spa treatments, but we have not even tried anything, so good to be here. Well, did I swim enough in the pool, and then released the baby on a trampoline and a swing. Dinner was very tasty, and I so want to try almost every dish on the menu during our vacation here.
And yet — to walk for a long time, tirelessly, holding the loved ones by their hands, laughing, brewing flower tea and working on the balcony. To the trampoline on which my daughter is jumping so happily, she is seventy meters from here, but I can hear her every word and see the speed dance of her yellow polka dot dress as if on a palm.
I don't know how to share it. It's surprisingly easier to remain silent about this, smiling quietly and peering into the sky or pressing your chin against your man's shoulder. But joy must be shared because it only multiplies.
Looking at this photo, I think of a happy childhood — but not only. Here is happy motherhood and happy fatherhood. Here is comfort and tranquility, trust and gratitude. Here are only good adventures.
Here is a place where inner integrity is built and the joy of a cold winter is preserved.
Such a gentle place of benevolent silence. And, of course, a very happy childhood, too.
Even the air is gentle here. You absorb the peace, the quiet, the non-haste - and in the heart it becomes clear, it melts from trembling gratitude and beauty.
It sounds ridiculous, but I'm always fed up with delicious food (especially if I don't cook it). Igor and I are trying to taste the menu and inspire Danus. But most of all she was pleased when we ordered her french fries. Although goat's milk, cheeses, and pancakes come in wonderfully too.
Today the sun is surprisingly many: we splashed in the pool, walked the field road, I even sat on a horse to take a walk up the mountains — but scared and climbed, instead Igor rode a little, but decided not to climb high without us.
Danusy and I got a fabulous session of apitherapy — relaxing on a lounger over the beehives in a bee house. And the honey and tea there tasted just gorgeous.
While Danus was having fun with his new girlfriend, Igor taught me to play ping pong. And now he prepares kebabs near our house. A few more minutes - and I will run to soak in a Phyto-barrel, and then - for a massage. Somehow before, it seemed to me that such a quiet, gentle holiday is not about us, well, at all. And it turned out that he is about and for us - even more than we could have imagined.