The perfect rainy Saturday.

It was our first Saturday in the Lake District town of Hawkshead and we decided to venture out to explore the village that was going to be our home for the next 7 weeks. Hungover from cheap goon that we had consumed with the YHA staff the night before, we woke up groggy and looked out the window to be greeted with the sight of rain and grey cloud covering our view of the horizon. Determined, we began our stroll down the narrow road and squealed when tractors and speeding 4WD's sped past sending us to hug the roadway hedges. We braced ourselves for the impact of splashing water from disturbed puddles that luckily never came.

We finally reached the path and admired the welcoming doors and windows of the cottages we passed, all smiling at us with their flowers and signs. We pass the first pub, then the second and the third, and wooden ducks and Peter Rabbits stare at us the newcomers out of each store window. The cakes from the cafe entice us and we sip tea out of cups that mismatch with the saucers they rest in, yet we grin at each other knowing how well it all goes together.

We walk in and out of stores running our hands over rows of books, we taste local spreads as we smother ourselves with salsa and chutney and fall in love with the locally made dark chocolate. The taste of our hangover is quickly replaced with sweetness that warms our cheeks and we giggle like children at our new guilty secret. The cobbled streets take us up to new sights and sounds, and all the while the church on the hill overlooks us and we acknowledge its presence with our awe.

The sun teases us with glimpses and we cling to it knowing our later hike depends much upon it. And as though it too plays a part in our welcome it too comes out to stay and play. We grow more excited and I nearly bang my head on flower baskets as I reach out to hug my companion which only brings more giggles.

Before we set off back up the road to home which would soon become so familiar with its green rolling hills, noisy cows, wooden gates and crunches of gravel underfoot, we stop at the village's wishing well. Already in lust with my new surroundings I ask to fall in love wholeheartedly before I leave this place, and the little splash of coin and water seals my fate. I walk away into the sun and into my Hawkshead summer that brought me love of green and blue, of trickling water, of hands held and of suns setting behind hills that stole my heart away. I now know why William Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter were as creative as they were, they strove as I now do too to put its beauty into words.