First of three
Beginning with useful advice on bogs
Three related posts that have hung around for too long, so much so that I’ve been tempted to ditch them as being out of date and of relatively little interest. They were supposed to be three short posts. They’ve grown. There’s a lesson there…
Continue reading “A Triptych on Dartmoor: two wars; one church; one prison and a teller of tales”
… in the space between International Women’s Day and Mothering Sunday
For a week or so, I have been considering drafting a Mother’s Day post. It would have been one of my rambles, perhaps on my role as a mother and as a daughter. But today (I am writing on Thursday March 8th) leaves me wanting to pare down my usual florid style and take a different tack. In the end, I don’t know that I’ve done a lot of paring. But what I want to say matters to me. It stands as it is. Continue reading “The View from Here: thoughts…”
The view from here was obliterated by a maelstrom of angry swirling snowflakes blurred into a blinding curtain. It fell across the garden and the trees in the valley and very quickly the horizon was gone.
For a couple of weeks I had been musing on a nature/weather-related post based around the vagaries of the British weather. We Brits do love to talk about our weather! Continue reading “The View from Here: it doesn’t snow in Cornwall”
“To his eyes all seemed beautiful, but to me a tinge of melancholy lay upon the countryside, which bore so clearly the mark of the waning year. Yellow leaves carpeted the lanes and fluttered down upon us as we passed. The rattle of our wheels died away as we drove through drifts of rotting vegetation–sad gifts, as it seemed to me, for Nature to throw before the carriage of the returning heir of the Baskervilles.” Continue reading “Dartmoor: with thanks to Conan Doyle”
The view from here has been aqueous
January draws to a close. One month ago this evening – on New Year’s Eve – it was wet. Torrentially wet. The tale of our attempts to enjoy the NYE celebrations at Looe may resurface at more length one day but for now I shall say only that the weather played a significant, and not very pleasant, role. B’s face probably says it all. Continue reading “The View from Here: water, water, everywhere”
And that moment captured the essence of this year’s Christmas, which for me was all about the very old and the very young.
It is the twenty-fifth of January. This time last month was another 25th. It was Christmas Day. Yes, a distant memory already; we’ve been back in the real world quite long enough to have packed away all thoughts of Christmas with the baubles and the tinsel. When it comes to including Christmas here in A Corner of Cornwall I’m even later than last year, but I do want a record of it and it is just a month back after all. Not so very long ago. But be warned. And if you really can’t stomach the thought a brief foray back into festive realms I can’t blame you. I suggest you move along briskly. Continue reading “The View from Here: Christmas 2017”
For me there was an atavistic connection: strong and raw. Unsophisticated, preliterate.
There was a darkness so thick it felt like a warm bath, yet the air was crackling sharp with cold. And the pin-bright sliver of moon hung over the water between the cliffs. A scimitar shining; sprinkling magic. Continue reading “The View From Here: reaching back”