Homecoming

Today is just another #technicolor day in the shire. I'm sitting on the caboose-like veranda of the #shepherdshut, drinking my second pot of tea. Zara is running around like a mad thing chasing flying creatures and chewing sticks. Soren my little Buddha, is sitting on the grass watching the world go by while waiting for his next victim - he runs up and down the length of the garden, barking, whenever a cyclist or walker passes by.

I say ‘just’ with a grain of salt because I have been away travelling in the USA for a month - a multi-city trip including Charleston, New York City, Poughkeepsie and Richmond. I left on a grey day in March, and returned to find spring in full swing.

Fortunately, I arrived in time for the splendour of the bluebells - every year - the vivid purple and blue swathes of colour appear as if by magic, transforming the woods into enchanted fairy patches - ample enough fodder for an imaginative brain to conjure up pixies, elves, dwarfs and leprechauns wiling away the hours amongst the bumble bees and butterflies.

Sometimes I think if I look hard enough I'll find tiny pewter tankards dropped between the stems. Surely if I was a fanciful creature of the woods, I would be out there celebrating the glorious eruption of a perfect spring.

Flying home never felt better after spending a month barely sleeping more than 3 hours a night. Too many thoughts, worries, trips, planes, hotels, troubles, presentations, projects kept me awake more hours than I can count. I missed everyone’s birthday – David, Erika and Schuyler, as well as Easter. I have not long here either, as I am bound for another spate of trips every month until November.

I don't usually take photographs from the windows of planes, but this trip I found myself doing it every time I took off and landed. The sunsets were spectacular, the low country spreading out below me in South Carolina - its winding rivers and hazy warmth stretching across the salt marshes, out to the sea and beyond. The view of Manhattan nestled in smog, its towering skyscrapers looking like open-mouthed birds waiting for worms and grubs to be dropped in. Illuminated by the golden beams of a sunset, I felt honoured to be flying into the urban nest of creativity and inspiration.

Then again, while whizzing over the woods and hills of Virginia, I was fascinated by the giant pincushion-like trees numbered in the thousands, a natural path of seasonal fertility – marked by the thickness and colour of leaves, or lack of them – quite visible from the air as I made my way south again. I wished it was autumn – and then felt ever so slightly homesick.

Yet I still longed for England where the nucleus of my family live. As we flew over Windsor Castle at 6.22 am, I couldn't resist snapping a few shots of the royal residence and majestic Thames twisting its way towards London.

I was never so happy to see my misspelled name on the sign held up by the driver collecting me. Two hours up the motorway, I was back in the shire, dogs eagerly bounding around me. I arrived to a quiet house, a little note and my Italian coffee pot filled with freshly ground beans, all ready to percolate. An hour later I had washed away the thousands of miles of air plane grime, and was resting in the garden, feet up, being serenaded by a plethora of industrious garden birds.

In the afternoon, David returned with his friend Russell pulling our little shepherds hut. What a sight. David had already prepared the spot in the garden where the new addition would finally rest. It was quite an ordeal collecting and bringing it home, with several unplanned stops along the way - a small petrol spillage, a hiccup with trailer bolts not wanting to turn, light board trauma and such. Upon arrival in the shire, getting the hut into the garden was nothing short of an engineering feat. The blue tits, finches and robins were not the only creatures busy at work preparing for the summer!

David had refit the fence running along the side of the drive so that the entire thing worked like a five bar swing gate - but was actually just the fence panelling. Admittedly impressed with his hidden entrance, I watched the vintage Ford Holland ground maintenance tractor with giant balloon tires reverse into the garden.  I am told that balloon tires are used to keep pristine lawns from being churned up. Happily I can report this is 100% true - not a single bit of dirt or turf was upturned.

We named our shepherds hut Two and Three Quarters - as it sits between number 2 and 3. It is certainly special. Built about 12 years ago by a 79 year old man from Norfolk, it is the epitome of a man's shed on wheels. 2/34s was erected on a farm tractor base - in true shepherds hut fashion.

She is made from solid clap board siding that is painted vivid green with cream coloured windows. The hut boasts a panelled tin roof that arches beautifully, with a tin-hat smoke stack that is expertly fitted to a fantastic little wood stove. There are also two sizeable solar panels which charge the battery that powers the little brass lights inside the hut.

The interior of 2 3/4s is clad in a lovely amber-honey stained bead board that lines the walls and ceiling. The arched beam work cuts across the ceiling – once decorated with brasses, all that remains of them are the faint marks left where dozens once hung.

There is double platform bed, built into a beautiful bead board panel, surrounded by paned windows, brass light fittings, and corner shelves.

The hut includes a miniature sideboard kitchenette equipped with a single bowl sink with brass tap and fittings. A gas stove and gas fridge are built into a set of shabby chic wooden cabinets, connected with smart stainless steel counter top. My plan is to run a dowel with three panels of cotton curtain to conceal the front of the cabinets so it resembles an old Maine pantry.

Across from the kitchenette a 'sofa' is built into the side. The seating area doubles as single bunk bed when the back cushion is repositioned and reassembled with the little columns to hold it up as the top single bunk. As a settee, it is perfect for sitting in front of the wood stove, watching the world go by through the full Dutch-door-that is as wide as the doors in the cottage.

The wood stove is incredibly economical and efficient - using only a few short pieces of oak, the entire hut heats up like a furnace.

Two and three quarters boasts panoramic views of fields and trees thanks to the expert positioning by David. No matter where you sit, lie or stand, you can see green trees, fields, woods, sky and animals from every aspect.

Fortunately the windows open sweetly – with adjustable brass fittings. Although I will replace the curtains and nets currently hung, they are certainly adequate enough to provide privacy, light, and a sufficient twee factor for now.

The dogs are in heaven - Zara especially. As Zara is a German Shepherd, she imagines the hut as her very own shepherdess hut. She does look the part – impressive - sitting on the black cast iron veranda or covered porch. Because 2 3/4s sits quite high off the ground with 6 wooden steps up to the little porch – it offers enough height to provide uninterrupted views overlooking the woods and field across the road where my beautiful herd of deer often graze. Perhaps because 2 3/4s is made entirely of wood - it is solid and cosy and has become the favourite place for everyone to have a kip.

At night, from the platform bed with the curtains open, the view of the stars - lit up in the blackness - unimpeded by light pollution, is heavenly. The first evening as I lay there looking out the window, a saw a shooting star fall just to the left of the white crescent moon.

There is a good vibe about the hut, as it was designed with care and love by a good craftsmen whose favourite past time was to pull it around with a coal-fired steam engine. She is the ideal addition to our little house in the shire. Two and three quarters in the land of Spare Oom is as magical as we could have hoped.

I couldn't have wished for a better homecoming.