And now, into our penultimate week at the Spa. The garden work is still demanding and satisfying, our vast unoccupied hotel still luxurious, and our day-to-day still fulfilling. The weather, though, is vastly altered. No more rain for the last two days (it is Tuesday) but it is cold. Each morning, we wrap up in every item of clothing we have brought with us (damn California for never teaching us about coldness) and step out of our warm luxury into the gardens. The ground is so thoroughly covered with frost it looks like snow, and each leaf that has fallen is delicately outlined in white crystals. As we cross the bridge over the waterfall (which is sluggish in this cold) to the Gardening Cabin, the mist rises over the lake, reminding me of the iconic line from Great Expectations, which I have just finished (thank you to Brandon Spars for teaching me about quote integration) : "It was now too late and too far to go back, and I went on. And the mists had all solemnly risen, and the world lay spread before me."
It is truly a beautiful sight, despite the cold, as the wisps rise up off the lake and again as they settle onto the fields as we finish work in the evenings, and indeed we are constantly surrounded by the feeling that, despite our employment and location, the world truly is spread before us. It is a good feeling. And it is aided by the sunsets that we have on the cold, clear days. These sunsets put Mediterranean and Caribbean vistas to shame, exquisite layers of pinks and purples and oranges flowing over our heads and settling finally down into the trees over the Essex fields and the gardens. One night, I went running around with a camera, desperately trying to capture various moments and views in the tiny interval between when we finish work and when complete darkness settles. Running with light steps (obviously no longer in my steel-toed boots) up and down the stone staircases and past the ponds and rose bushes, I get an overwhelming sense of joy and excitement. Cheeks flushed and smile bright as they can only be when you come into somewhere very warm after being outside somewhere very cold. The same feeling we get when we return to the Gardening Cabin for a cup of tea after hauling cut down trees or re-planting shrubs or clearing out ponds or one of our various other jobs.
This week we have been moving the offices of the management team, no easy task as they are in overdrive mode and literally grab telephones and computer cables out of your hands before you can set them down. But everyone is good-natured, though they are all work-weary, and so the new offices are quickly filled with massive cupboards and desks that miraculously appear with no help from us. They are extremely grateful and eager to reward us (today we even got a mini mince pie for our efforts, which was an unparalleled delight).
So the week wears on, with all our accustomed trials and triumphs, and we soldier on through the icy cold, which brings rewards like sunsets, flushed cheeks, a cup of tea, and the mists rising solemnly every morning.