When I lived in Yorkshire I read a book called Three Mile Man by a bloke who adored his little patch of countryside, and barely stepped outside of his three miles. His bit of land was more than enough to sustain him, and he came to know the flora and fauna with incredible depth. When I moved to Elslack I imagined myself as 'three mile woman' and thought I would document each hillock and nest. Having a consuming job and Ruskin to occupy me I did not even manage to learn the name of every flower and bird. Yet the love affair between me and my three miles was deep. I still cannot get over the loss of looking out of my window onto only hills (unless a cow was licking them) or getting home from work to do 'the circuit' with my great friend Amy. Or the satisfaction of a delivery of logs for the open fire. Or lying on the ground to better follow the buzzards and curlews overhead. Through a decade that anyone would forgive me for calling complicated (and often lonely) the barren beauty of the Yorkshire Dales never failed to delight me. And of course the first precious weeks with Ville took place there, talking non stop by the fire and listening to the silence on the hills. I hope we will get to end our days together as we began them.

My relationship with Heybeliada, our Island home close to Istanbul, has also been stitched together by the things that grow there. The vine leaves outside the window that my neighbour taught me to make Yaprak Sarma with. Late Spring when suddenly everything is covered in wisteria soon to be replaced by pink, orange and red flowers. Blooms on Heybeliada are so abundant, quite unlike the delicate, wind-worthy flowers I had to crouch down to admire in the Dales. In late Summer there are enough grapes for our whole building in the communal garden and huge quince bob on their branches. Then, just when the flowers are turning as brown as the parched ground, the second Spring arrives with the first rains, and everything is fresh and green again before Autumn begins. (But no jealousy needed Yorkshire, the first cut is the deepest!)

This winter I have been staying in the City, and Heybeliada seen only as part of the skyline, so I have been missing the wonderful first signs of spring there. Then today when I walked in Ihlamur Kasrı Park, while the children played with Başak at the nearby playground, I felt a familiar bubbling about the unfurling of tiny green leaves. This small park has become an important patch for me and it was lovely to document the first new buds of 2013. I am also feeling the slow (very but so reassuring!) seeping back of the energy I had before having Anton and Neve. A few weeks ago I despaired that it would ever return but here it comes: a spring in my step.