Totnes! -- Devon, England

There are many truths of which the full meaning cannot be realized until personal experience has brought it home.

~John Stuart Mill 

I rolled out of bed Saturday morning and opened the front door for Lucy and Oscar. I strolled outside after them and inhaled the fresh smell of morning. Morning smells like adventure. Opportunity. Unpredictability. Morning is a tease, like the French habit of eating one tiny square of chocolate for breakfast. 

I've never understood how someone can eat only one square of chocolate. Unless that's all there is left. Then it's understandable. Sad and disappointing, but understandable. 

I listened to morning. For someone who lives life by the seat of her pants, morning sounds like a question. I hear the engines of tractors, the soft clucking of chickens, the buzzing of bees and wasps, and the crisp chirping of birds and I wonder how the day will unfold. When I lived in Grand Junction, I was so busy with work and various projects that I made lists every morning, else I would spend the entire day worrying that there wouldn't be time to accomplish my commitments. Checking things off lists is an extremely validating maneuver, but having a list sometimes overwhelmed the morning sounds. 

The sound of unfolding. 

Saturday unfolded a brisk ride through the narrow roads of Devon. I rode Spike and Charlotte led the excursion on Willow. It's inspiring to watch Charlotte play with horses. The way she moves is so natural and each movement contains as much joy as the elderly folk at the nursing home exuded whilst watching Violet sing. The ride itself would have been a bit nicer had we not encountered three tractors who were driven by men who didn't quite understand that rapidly rumbling a massive vehicle behind a skittish animal accomplishes nothing good. 

After we'd untacked the horses and released them into their field, Charlotte and I left for Totnes, taking a short detour to drop off some sunscreen with Jack and Harry (who were giving freshwater fishing a try).

Freshwater fish must be fond of ham and canned vegetables.

The lake where they were fishing was located at a resort, complete with gorgeous gazebo-esque structure and duck houses.

duck houses. I love these.

Courgettes are enormous in the UK.

The owner of the resort has a hobby of collecting old cars. I like that he collected the shell station as well.

To Totnes! I am convinced that I will live in this town at some point in my life. It's a small market town at the head of the river Dart, and  positively saturated with yoga, handmade clothing, massage, cheese, coffee, kombucha, music festivals, film festivals, crafts, chocolate, ice cream and art.

I want to go to there. For always. 

It's also a transition town founded on the principles of permaculture, has its own currency, and boasted Sean O'Casey as a resident for nearly 30 years.

I love that there's a cat cafe and I love that it's "not suitable for children". Petting kittens is an adult activity in Totnes. My god. I could go so many inappropriate ways with that... But I'll let your mind do it instead. ;)

An interesting take on the whole fruit bowl thing.

If you're ever in Totnes, definitely pop inside this restaurant. Charlotte and I checked out the upstairs and it has a fantastic vibe and looks like a stellar music venue.

As we strolled down the main street, I kept pointing out shops to Charlotte and saying, "I could work here. I could be ever so happy working here." This was one of those shops.

Chocolate chill pill. When I was growing up, one of the things that drove me absolutely mad was my dear older brother saying, "Aimee, take a chill pill." I would have gladly taken many of these.

I desperately wanted to purchase these handmade leather shoes... I would have never forgiven myself the splurge, but I really wanted them. Ach. C'est dommage.

They even have an Alice in Wonderland cafe.

"I could work there," I said to Charlotte.

"I could work there," I said to Charlotte.

"I could work there," I said to Charlotte.

The Cat Cafe was closed, so no kittens were stroked. Note the Brutus Stone next to the shop, though. Totnes (the whole thing) claims to be founded by Brutus of Troy, the founder of Britain (as we know it, anyway). This is supposed to be the first stone he stepped on when alighting from his ship. He then looked around the marsh and said in his deep, resonating voice (mythical characters always have deep resonating voices), "Here I stand and here I rest. And this town shall be called Totnes."

Window shopping in Totnes is a dangerous pastime... especially for those with gluten-sensitivities.

I want to go back and try the fig and walnut and the stem ginger. I want to go back right now.

A quirky cheese shop near the end of the main street. Note that it's address is No 1. Ticklemore Street.

I finally tried Stinking Bishop! And it was vile.

In case you can't read the caption, it goes something like, "Wash rind Jersy cows' milk cheese. A wheel of luxuriously creamy cheese that melts like the meltiest melting thing in melty world!"

The night unfolded a visit with Charlotte's brother, a gluten-free red onion tart, and the introduction of Sarah's new workawayer from Austria.

Preconceptions: None today.

Challenges. Gah.