We headed outside to soak up the last of the autumn sunshine last week. Thea slept swaddled in cotton and muslin in her hammock, swinging from the verandah's rafters while I pulled weeds, leaning over the rails to bounce her back to sleep with dirt beneath my nails.
The garden had grown wild in the two months I had left it abandoned; with rocket, radishes, bok choy and mustard greens crowding out the gravel on the driveway and cherry tomatoes clambering between the garden beds. After a day of rhythmic pulling, carting and composting all is orderly once more. There is celery, onions, broccoli and Tuscan kale of the deepest green. We might even get some more tomatoes before winter closes in. We picked the last of the pumpkins and they are lined up on the back verandah with boxes of apples waiting to be tucked away in the cellar.
After a very gentle month adjusting to life as a family of six we have found our rhythm. Thea is six weeks old today and it feels like she has been here always.