Not rowing
Vacation was a place/time when our family did "other stuff'. We went to the cabin (no electricity nor running water and our idea of heaven on earth) where The Sr Boy lasted about 27 hours before he was working on a project of some sort while the rest of us beached, wrote, read, picked blackberries, swam, and watched deer 4' away through the windows munching on greenery we didn't care about because it wasn't our garden. We went on riding holidays with the Vincent - the YouNitedStates, Great Britain, New Zealand and a fairish bit of this country. We did the obligatory Dizzyland but by train. And we came here.
Sorrento Centre is different. We came here and learned from amazing teachers. The Sr Boy pushed for a cappucino bar and there is one now which makes getting up in the morning even more pleasurable. The baby trees of the holy grove beside the labyrinth are now 25' tall and, yes, they should have listened to The Jr Boy when he said they were planted too closely together all those years ago. We always either camped or stayed in a cabana - both meant self-catering and sharing meals with fellow camp/banaers. The Jr Girl worked here one summer - the only member of the youth staff with a standard driving licence so the only one allowed to drive the tractor (picture chagrin all over the XY chromosome group). The Jr Boy ignored his program the first time we visited and, along with another renegade, spent the week in the woods building forts. It is this place where, in the space of a morning, I can plan making an afterthought heel on a pair of socks with the barista, write haiku about overflowing eavestroughs, walk out of worship with impunity, go for a run up The Sr Boy's road, and discuss the theology of "winners writing scripture" over coffee with a bishop, two teenagers, and the groundskeeper.
There is a beach, a creek, a labyrinth, an ancient apple orchard, and a strawberry garden that has gone to weeds but is still pickable if one asks the aforementioned groundskeeper. There is new music, new ideas, old friends, and breathing space. This week, there is also much-needed rain and, therefore, mud which in turn provides images such as the one that has just passed this window of a small person clad only in knickers and t-shirt stomping in every puddle along the roadway.
Beyond this space, there are two wineries Recline Ridge and Granite Creek with great German style wine within half an hour on country roads - I have a case of proof in the car. There is a brewery that only sells by the barrel - this may be a problem when it comes to taking some home. There is a great farmers' market (for their produce - get yer minds out of the gutter. Although.....) on Saturday and a lavender farm where tea is served.
This is more than a vacation.
It is holy days.
Still breathing......
Sorrento Centre is different. We came here and learned from amazing teachers. The Sr Boy pushed for a cappucino bar and there is one now which makes getting up in the morning even more pleasurable. The baby trees of the holy grove beside the labyrinth are now 25' tall and, yes, they should have listened to The Jr Boy when he said they were planted too closely together all those years ago. We always either camped or stayed in a cabana - both meant self-catering and sharing meals with fellow camp/banaers. The Jr Girl worked here one summer - the only member of the youth staff with a standard driving licence so the only one allowed to drive the tractor (picture chagrin all over the XY chromosome group). The Jr Boy ignored his program the first time we visited and, along with another renegade, spent the week in the woods building forts. It is this place where, in the space of a morning, I can plan making an afterthought heel on a pair of socks with the barista, write haiku about overflowing eavestroughs, walk out of worship with impunity, go for a run up The Sr Boy's road, and discuss the theology of "winners writing scripture" over coffee with a bishop, two teenagers, and the groundskeeper.
There is a beach, a creek, a labyrinth, an ancient apple orchard, and a strawberry garden that has gone to weeds but is still pickable if one asks the aforementioned groundskeeper. There is new music, new ideas, old friends, and breathing space. This week, there is also much-needed rain and, therefore, mud which in turn provides images such as the one that has just passed this window of a small person clad only in knickers and t-shirt stomping in every puddle along the roadway.
Beyond this space, there are two wineries Recline Ridge and Granite Creek with great German style wine within half an hour on country roads - I have a case of proof in the car. There is a brewery that only sells by the barrel - this may be a problem when it comes to taking some home. There is a great farmers' market (for their produce - get yer minds out of the gutter. Although.....) on Saturday and a lavender farm where tea is served.
This is more than a vacation.
It is holy days.
Still breathing......
posted by Another Joan at 12:56 p.m.
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