And here we are again

Five years ago, I was amazed to see it had been five years since the previous post. I managed a second post, then life got in the way again.

And it was a good life. Happy, healthy and fulfilling.

Until it wasn't.
Last November, the scans associated with gall bladder issues revealed a mass on the pancreas. At that moment life changed forever.

In some ways we were lucky. The early detection and treatment bought us some time. The chemo seemed to be helping at first, but little by little it started to do more harm than good and we agreed he would stop treatment and move to just palliative care back in May.

The last two months were hard, but we spent them together. Constantly together. He finally slipped gently away in the early hours of 7 July. My wonderful, annoying, larger than life, enthusiastic, loving, kind, adventurous and gentle husband - the man who brought joy back to my life - was gone.

And once again I have to ask myself the question. What now?

Life still has a few surprises

I have been struggling to rediscover my blogging mojo for a while.
Lack of time and lack of inspiration, or simply the moments passing faster than I have time to write about them, have stood in the way.

And then there has been my stalker, Mr G. Reaper, who has remained ever-present since the start of the year.
I had intended to keep this place a dead person-free zone, but it hasn't been easy.
Hardest to deal with, of course, is the fact that it would have been R's 50th birthday this year. A double milestone - another birthday ticked off, and a Significant Date as well. It has helped having a broad shoulder to cry on this time, but the pain and searing loss doesn't go away, does it?

Then a good friend and work colleague passed away a couple of weeks ago, six months after her retirement. She gave up work so she and her husband could spend more time travelling, and was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer just two months later. The disease progressed so quickly that we never did get the chance to have the retirement meal we were planning.
Anne's funeral is on Wednesday.

Our little village hasn't been immune either. In the last two months, we have lost my lovely next-door neighbour, Mary, and another friend's husband, Mike. Two people from a village of around 200 souls in such a short time is felt deeply. One percent of the population. It creates a feeling of unease in addition to the sadness.

And yet, all around the land is waking up. Coming back to life.
Gardens are filling with flowers, buds are starting to break on the trees. We even had to mow the lawn last weekend.

Every field seems to be full of lambs. Including my own.
I decided to have one last lambing, a swan song, as it were. I may not be living here for that much longer, but while I am, it will be full of little faces.
The first ewe produced two beautiful little lambs last weekend. Then yesterday, I went out for a couple of hours. When I came back, I could see that Robert was waiting to tell me something. "Come outside and take a look at this." he said excitedly.

I certainly wasn't expecting this:

Genetics was never one of my strong subjects at school, but I would love to know how that happened!
Mother was pure black, as were her grandmother and great-grandmother. Dad is a pure-bred (or so I thought!) Black Welsh Mountain ram. I guess every family has the odd skeleton in the closet if you go back far enough!

And twin brother is black too.
Makes for a lovely picture though.