15 Blog September 17, 2024 “Little Brother”
When we drove up to the Forest Cottage in the Woods, Swanton Novers in Norfolk, England my concern wasn’t about how long it took to get there, or what the weather was like, my focus was on seeing my little brother, David and his wife, Chloe. Driving down the one mile dirt road, single lane, I actually filmed what it looked like to arrive at the clearing where their house stands, the feeling of a road that goes on and on, until suddenly it doesn’t, and all the hours in the car melt away, and Rocky, their golden lab came galloping out to greet us with a frisbee in his mouth, ready to play, his entire body wagging with love, and Chloe emerged from the brick house, wreathed in smiles and welcome, and then, the big lug of my brother seems to come out of nowhere, his blue eyes as piercing as ever, his arms already reaching out to hold onto me and the trip melts away, and the years melt away, and it’s me and David again, partners in crime and play, and the hug goes on for long minutes of speechless happiness that we get to see each other again.
We then broke out the scones Alistair and I bought from Betty’s yesterday, the Fat Rascal scone with the cherry eyes and the Gooey Rascal scone with the melty chocolate insides. Chloe appeared with a bowl of cream and the famous Hartley’s strawberry jam, and a beautiful, piping hot tea pot of Earl Grey arrived at the table, and we gathered for an outdoor tea time, talking over each other, eating sweet food and feeling both foreign and at home in the same minute. This was not my home, but we visited just two years ago and it felt so familiar, even down to the dog wagging his body and looking right at Alistair as if he remembered playing with him, and TomTom the cat with the stealthy eyes and the purry body who curled up in my lap, all the while eyeing the whipped cream for an opportunity to dip a paw into the bowl.
This Forest Cottage (actual name) is a far cry from the Cathedrals and cities that we have visited in the past few days, and yet the woods around us are more majestic than any man-made structure. We trekked for a little while around the forest, which Chloe knows better than google knows maps, and we took trails through the Nature Preserve, spent time looking at a housing project that is going up nearby—up being literal. The houses being built are all tree houses. I’m not kidding. They are glamorous, upscale contemporary housing units for people to rent or own for holiday vacationing. Have you heard of the term ‘forest bathing’? I think people are interested in that, but getting wet on the outside does not mean you have gotten all clean on the inside. In other words, these homes may give the semblance of immersion, but it was the intimate look at all the trees, the guided conversation of my sister-in-law that spoke to me about what it means to really be part of something, to incorporate the phases of the moon into your breath, to point out the places in the tree roots that would make good fairy houses for her granddaughter that reminded me of the deep relationship my brother and his wife have with this place, developed over the past 8 years they have lived here.
They both have workshops on the property. Chloe is an extraordinary artist of botanical and natural paintings. I am blessed to have one in the rectory—foxgloves and other flowers. She had a show a few years ago entitled “Everything Green is Gold” featuring her paintings of the world around the Forest Cottage. My brother has his own construction business and builds high end residences, including a house boat that has its own fireplace and is completely off the grid, producing its own energy. But he also works in stone and wood, hand crafting, sanding and forming bowls, figures and other things that interest him. This time he has been making stone-like figures using sculpture forms—snow white doves, reclining women and a mother and child, each of them weighty and cool in my hands.
Later we sat around the table after dinner, a warm Coq Au Vin featuring runner beans from their garden, wondering if we would see the full moon. The forest is not as good for stargazing. Too many trees. But we headed out and the clouds parted for just a moment, enough to see the moon clearly—perfectly round and full. Then we heard a repetitive barking sound in the darkness of the forest. “Do you hear that? That’s the Munt Jac deer calling to its mate.” We spotted one earlier that they called Monte—a small brown deer with stripes—picture a chipmunk that turned into a deer. Short legs, a humpty little back and about the size of a medium dog, these deer mate all year long and are always looking for a date, so they call to each other. Clearly Munt Jac deer know nothing about online dating apps!
We are home even though this is not our home. But it is. Because everywhere we find family, we have found home on this trip. This is our last visit with loved ones and after this we’ll be on our own—Italy here we come! But for today, for now, for the next two days, we are here at this warm house with people we love, reminded of what it means to dwell in love, to dig into our shared memories, to catch up on new memories not shared, to strengthen bonds of love and family, and to throw a lot of frisbees for Rocky, who can catch them in mid air!
I don’t have to say it, but I will—this is nourishing. My little brother is no longer little, but he will always be younger and will always speak with a cadence that is familiar to me. We have known and loved each other our whole lives, and really, for me, it just gets better with time.
“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named,” Ephesians 3: 14-15
Thank you God, for the gift of my family.
