Ok, now it is three mornings with little or no water. I mentioned yesterday that the lightning had damaged the reservoir pumps. Seems as if the engineer has to climb up there every morning to manually switch them on. After living in this valley for the best part of my life it is really amusing how some things never change. And quaint as that may seem there are people who have to commute over mountains every day, myself following that route once a week over a pass. The view from the top is stunning, but I only really noticed it on my afternoon ascent this week on my way home, as so consumed with the journey and intent on the task ahead, I failed to concentrate on the surrounding scenery. We climb invisible mountains everyday, it is a pity we could not get a glimpse at the top every now to enable us to see the bigger picture. On this mountain top I could see the valley stretching out below, with a early sunset beginning to turn orange and the sun at a level with my eyes that it almost blinded me. After a long day at work I felt as if I was in an aeroplane on take-off. Actually quite exhilarating and a way of letting off steam to trundle through the twists and turns of a road leading me home at the end of the day.

I was thinking about how our lives go through different stages in which we appear to be stuck in a rut and wonder if life will be ever different and then suddenly we are at the end of the road, in the valley, so to speak. I have witnessed elderly relatives cut down on possessions and settle for less as they prepare for retirement. No more climbing mountains. A home with no stairs and a tiny living room. And it is as if the brain down scales with less expectations and more relaxation. I am so worried that it will seem like a small death when I reach that stage. I am hoping that because of the natural aging process that this slowing down will be painless and unnoticeable. Sadly when people pass on and their obituary fills a page, I wonder if regret formed a large part of the last chapter of their lives or does the mountain gradually slope downwards and deposit them on the level without them noticing it.

Of course we are most equipped for the difficult challenges when we peak in our twenties and thirties, and that is when the mountain is not an issue. The forties and fifties these days, health permitting, are equally effortless. When we reach the sixties and seventies the mountain still appeals, but the ascent is slower. We prefer to take the longer route around the bottom. All a matter of genetic engineering possibly. The good news is that some of my family in their seventies are still preferring to travel over the mountain and are showing no signs of settling for the home on the straight yet. I had a uncle who started to travel the world when he was in his eighties, and a great grandfather of mine travelled over from the UK to this country in his nineties. My own father moved out of the retirement home where he and my late mother had settled. He said it was too depressing. He lives with us now and is seldom home with all the activities and travelling he enjoys.

The message then is to remember to climb every mountain and when you reach the bottom, climb the next one. That way there will be no time for regrets. Enjoy life, love from Eve