seeking out new footpaths, different routes, unknown views; making a landmark of a tree silhouetted against the wide clear sky; seeing patterns in the clouds gathering along the valley.
He takes pleasure in a mock orange hanging over a tributary of the river; stopping to inhale the perfume, burying his face in the blossom;
He visits local pubs, greeting landlords with cheery enthusiasm, trying out the local beers.
He stands silently at the gates of Broughton Manor; where Offa of Mercia battled with the King of Kent, and Edmund Ironside defeated the Danish invaders.
I can't sit still...
picking odd things up, trying them in a new position; opening the last of the boxes;
cleaning surfaces, wiping and dusting like the good housewife I've never been and will never be for long.
I re-order books; taking one at a time from the bookcase, trying it next to a new neighbour on a different shelf.
I stand at the kitchen sink; gazing into the long garden, watching the light at different times of day, listening to the birds in the tall trees next door.
I cut the grass, walking slowly up and down, my feet marking out our new territory, my footprints on our ground.
I plant a rose; figuratively and literally putting down roots.
We're slowly settling in.