Thirty years ago, I left my home in America to marry a guy from Swaziland named Chris. Since then, we have lived in many places in South Africa and England.
The two of us are home alone now with Leo the cat. We like to ride bikes and go for long walks, have date nights at the movies, and take short breaks to Europe. I have a hankering for history and great architecture.
But my favorite place is close by in a small river village outside Cambridge. There is a meadow golden with buttercups, a weir and a lock where people mess about in boats, and an old mill and tea room that serves freshly baked scones. It is a place in England that is perfectly home to me, a place to have a cup of tea on a warm summer day while watching the swans drift through the willow trees overhanging the river bank. It is a place of anchorage beside still waters. Perhaps you’ll come visit someday.
This is Ian, often referred to as “Earth Son” because of his love for God’s creation. He is an artist and linguist studying in Jerusalem. If he’s not out in the desert, you’ll find him working at an olive harvest.
Our daughter, Lyndall, aka “The Babe,” is studying and making films in L.A. I even got to be in her latest project, a short film about homeless women called “Nomad.” Stay tuned—there’s going to be a premiere!
I am a water baby.
Growing up in Southern California meant going to the beach, learning to swim and water ski, but failing miserably at surfing. Oh well, at least I tried.
I now live far away from the Pacific, but close to a river in Cambridge, England, famous for long-poled punts and ethereal views of Kings’ College Chapel. My favorite book is The Wind in the Willows, a story of two furry friends who mess about in a boat on an English river. They travel far and wide together, but they also need to find their way home once in a while. I relate to that.
Now and then, a dragonfly shows up in my garden. I am mesmerised by the beauty of this iridescent water insect. I love the way its wings reflect the light as it darts across the sun-streaked grass.
I started reading up about this tiny creature and found out dragonflies are considered a symbol of change and maturity. Their hovering presence is an invitation to follow, to go deeper and explore what lies beyond the river. My kind of aerial insect.