The Hill That Watches the Valley
Our Sunday adventure begins later than usual today. The week behind us—crowded with routines, early alarms, long hours and late nights—has taken its quiet toll. And so this morning, for once, I gift myself permission to rest. The rare luxury of letting the dawn unfold without me.
When I finally stir, slow and unhurried, Carys sits by my side, watching me with patient expectation. She knows, instinctively, by the clothes I’ve pulled on, that today is a day built for distance—a day measured not by clocks or calendars but by footsteps, open fields and the promise of discovery.