Could there be a more pleasant way to spend a day than out in the country in the company of family? Hardly. So there we were, both of us and Jack and Jill romping about the near property of our daughter and son-in-law's recently acquired old farmhouse, where close to the heritage stone house the property looks like a well-ordered public park, birds flit to the bird feeders hanging from trees, and the sun beats down out of an ocean of pale blue under shifting winds.

The house is a marvel of sturdy efficiency and quaint and beautiful workmanship, from its panelling, deep window frames, wide pine floorboards, mouldings and chair rails, and rooms flooded with natural light. Its plentiful rooms bespeak an earlier era of large families which today's small families convert to home offices, and studies and sitting rooms.

And lovers of nostalgia living in homes such as this take great delight to furnish them with inherited pieces of family furniture, or pieces bought from antique shops in an admiring nod to times gone by when care was taken in the design and construction and materials used in everyday objects meant to last.

We poked about outside looking for ripe gooseberries, raspberries and blueberries, finding ample to satisfy our craving for sweet tidbits in that serene setting. We sat talking, enjoying the summer day as woodpeckers and doves, goldfinches and song sparrows alighted briefly on the bird feeders hanging from the sturdy branches of century-old maples.

I watched with fascination as one of their apiaries sitting among many in a meadow setting was opened, with calm dominating the atmosphere; calm emanating even from me, an onlooker invited to witness the frenzy of activity within the hive, as production was evaluated prior to harvesting the honey that would be transformed into honey fit for sale at the most discriminating of natural food shops.