Tonight a gathering of three generations of my family from Perth and Albany - my brother and sister and their partners, my son and his 7 nephews and partners, and the baby daughter of one of my nephews. Seventeen in total.
At such events I am always reminded of a Wendell Berry poem from his book Leavings
I tremble with gratitude
for my children and their children
who take pleasure in one another.
At our dinners together, the dead
enter and pass among us
in loving love and in memory
And so the young are taught