Chi trova un amico trova un tesoro

Once upon a time, 3 old school friends met up in this cottage and laughed so hard that they cried, drank wine and kept the big old fire going with massive logs.

I've known Liz since I was 12 and Fiona from 13. They were the horsey ones, still owning horses and riding today. I was the one who rode any old available nag ... Cinnamon, an ex-race horse who liked to bolt; Nutmeg who caused the vet to look away when she trotted towards him - so many faults that he winced. Mickey, the little bay pony who pawed the ground when we crossed creeks, indicating that she was thinking of rolling there ... rider and all.

Liz was the last to marry and I might have said at her wedding, 'Okay, race you to number 2'. Liz won without intending it, I came in second ... Fiona's the good one, or perhaps she just married a good one first time round.

I was at Fiona's the night that my mother died unexpectedly ... she had cancer but we all thought she had weeks left. Fiona's was the right place to be ... an old friend, a treasure you don't meet so often in life.

And Liz, we always pick up where we left off from ... 4 years and we continue with conversations that never acknowledge the passage of time.

They both live on farms now ... we studied agriculture and horticulture together, I guess I am the anomaly. Liz came back from her European life and I asked her 'But how?!' and now I am learning what she already knows.

Even their parents are delicious, and we know so much of each others lives ... it's an interweaving that I miss here in this cold country where people seem to fear the friendliness that was so natural back home in the wee country.

Homesick this morning?
Well now ... how did you guess?