Memory Moments: July

“We do not remember days; we remember moments.” Cesare Pavese

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Once again I am a full month behind in preparing this post.  But I’m discovering a poignancy and a beauty to July that I may perhaps have missed had I not had this cushion of time from which to look back.  Going through the photos already feels nostalgic after just a month.  And I’m seeing things differently.

Events and weather in July are all wrapped up together.  Let’s see what July offered…

The weather in July seemed universally cool and grey …

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… with days of lingering mists.

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Be it brume or smirr; be they dimpsey days or smuggy days …

… the cows remained curious.

But we had the briefest blaze of fiery warmth, perfectly timed for Mum & Dad to enjoy the newspapers in the sunshine.

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Tom and Amy were not so lucky: their visit was shrouded in cloud.

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But it didn’t stop us enjoying the views of Fowey  as we began a month of memorable foodie experiences.  The Old Ferry Inn gave us…

… crabs’ claws and bouillabaisse ..

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… and delicious fine dining.

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And the Bodmin and Wenford Steam Railway gave us…

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… cream teas – in vintage style.

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We enjoyed steam at Boconnoc too.

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Jungly ferns and …

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rain-spattered verges have vanished.  For we have been shorn.

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But over walls and hedges, in gardens and on station banks, hydrangeas abound.

Despite its preponderance of gloom and brume, July offered us some magical sunsets.

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Bruised purple skies above swirling mists …

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… and fantastical silvered clouds that made me think of dragons’ breath.

July’s inclement weather gave us card games in high-summer.  Gin rummy with Tom & Amy, and Canasta with Mum & Dad.

And it must be Mum & Dad’s visit which is the pinnacle of these July memories.  A chance for us to make memories with them in our new home.  And for them to revisit old haunts and relive memories of their own from many years before.

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The View from Here: we have been shorn

As I drive along, after the farmers have performed their nightly shearing, I feel like I’m driving along a motorway

As July closes, the farmers are busy. There is relatively little arable farming here: the fields are often too steep to make it sensible.  But there’s plenty of hay to gather in.  Harvesting by day – and shearing the banks by night. Continue reading “The View from Here: we have been shorn”

July in the garden: looking eastwards

I suspect we’re in for some serious work in this eastern stretch

We don’t have a front and a back garden.  The house is positioned roughly midway between the east and western perimeters so we have two side gardens.  Because you have to pass through it to get to the house, the westward space might be thought of as the front garden, which makes the eastern stretch by default into the back garden.  Certainly it has the appearance and feel of a more conventional family garden.  I seem to have written several times about the area to the west; it’s time I redressed the balance. Continue reading “July in the garden: looking eastwards”

Birds on the Balcony: babies, buzzards and soaring seagulls

When we were first talking about moving to Cornwall I made it quite clear that I didn’t want seagulls in my airspace

The balcony is awash with babies.  A plethora of fluffy fledglings, often with soft grey down still competing with new adult feathers.  They make me think of cuckoos, these innocent babes, for invariably they are larger than their industrious parents: puffed up by their motley mix of feathers, with their wings fluttering and their gapes wide and demanding.  Life is so precarious for these infants in their first few days of life in the big wide world.  Continue reading “Birds on the Balcony: babies, buzzards and soaring seagulls”