Oh it's a Jolly Holiday in England.

I sat in the conservatory and watched the rain drops snake down the glass roof and onto the glass walls. Just yesterday it was brilliantly bright and sunny, but today the world is changed: it's raining.

The first time I visited London was 10 years ago. Can you believe that? And I have been telling people ever since then that London is the city of my heart. I have travelled somewhat extensively since my last visit here, but as soon as my lungs breathed in the misty air I felt it again: I am totally in love with this place.

I have been thinking about it all week. I don't know if I can pinpoint an exact reason, my first thought was that this connection is somehow related to my intense love of history. Every corner I turn here is like a chapter in a world history book, and I love that. Oh there's just so much to learn!! And it's not just boring history,  its war and romance and adventure and knowledge!  It's entrenched in the politics of humanity for thousands of years!  Oh, it's magic. It's one thing for me to watch the History Channel all the time, but here there is no need to even watch TV, because you could spend whole years just visiting museums and historical sights. Oh, such joy.

So, there's that passionate history interwoven with these flaming strands of modernity! The modern art and architechture here are stunning. And the people, too. Oh don't get me started on the marvelous patchwork of diversity. Every time I get on the Tube it's like Christmas.  The city is a sort of symphony to me with every language and culture, beating to the drum of the Underground train.

Oh, I could go on forever. The parks, the buildings, the people, the cars, the anonymity,  the surprises, the drama, that musty smell of age and population, oh it's all so wonderful.

But the glory of all of this is that I'm staying out in the charming English countryside. So, I go into London as a day trip- get overstimulated because my brain is going a thousand miles a minite thinking of millions of questions- and then return to the calming rolling hills and green pastures. It's an absolute dream.

When we went on a hike the other day, after a crazy day in town, we took some time to just sit. On a bridge. In the middle of this enchanting forest. And we watched the river carry on under the bridge. My inspired best friend said,"It's beautiful the way the river brings peace." And it is true.  But the river isn't stagnant. (Several years ago this same best friend and I had a disastrous incident with stagnant water.) So, the river doesn't equate peace with sameness. Peace, contrarily, is change.

"And," she continued, "maybe it doesn't know exactly where it's going,  but it doesn't let that stop it. It can't see the end, but it pushes on anyway, with complete faith that it will end up where it needs to."

No matter how much it strays, it always returns to it's most important journey and is never discouraged.

That river, with its tranquil determination, doesn't go alone, either. As it meanders with purpose toward it's own destination, it gives life and peace to everything it touches. It never witholds joy from a bystanding bush or tree. Never bothered by the boulders and hedges that occasionally bar the way. It is patient with them and ever sharing. It never gives up. It never doubts. It never judges. It never stops. And when it gets to the sea, it becomes something more than it ever imagined. But the journey is still a while yet, and it needs to persevere.