The View from Here: it doesn’t snow in Cornwall

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”

The View from Here: water, water, everywhere

The view from here has been aqueous

B new years eveJanuary 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”

The view from here: a Tuesday in October

In a world of bustle and change there is always stillness

WP_20160709_013Outside, it has been a mild day: mild but moist.  The air scarcely breathes: a stark contrast to yesterday’s winds.  But whilst yesterday was wild and spirited, today seems damp and tired.  Listless.

As I approached the post box at the top of the hill this morning, I met Peter, our farming neighbour, and his son, Edward.  There was clear evidence on the road of their most recent task: the cows had been brought in.  Were they coming in for the winter?

Out of sight a cow bellowed mournfully.  If she has begun her winter incarceration, it will be many months before she and her sisters are once again on the valley slopes.  The view from here will have emptied.  Our view is never quite in harmony when the cows have gone.   Continue reading “The view from here: a Tuesday in October”

Hirundine Diaries

Swallows gathering in a group for a gossip is new to me.  It makes me smile. 

54a1cfc41fb2462530c2404f48c3ddc1--bird-silhouette-swallowSeptember has gone and with it go the swallows.  I last saw them on September 15th, strung along the telephone wires, motionless against the wind and the rain.  With windscreen wipers beating a steady rhythm under sullen skies, I drove beside chains of swallow-shaped silhouettes hung like cut-out paper dolls. Continue reading “Hirundine Diaries”

The View from Here: the rhythms of life

What will be the colour of April that I’ll remember when this month wanes?

“Oh to be in England now that April’s there… “

I think Browning would have yearned particularly for April in England year: in this corner of England at least. Continue reading “The View from Here: the rhythms of life”

The View from Here: from winters past to winters present

The view from here in the present gives no clue to the drama in its past

The beaches are not the only places to be deserted in Cornwall in the winter.  We visited Cawsand and Kingsand, two small villages joined at the hip, which at one time straddled the Cornwall/Devon border. (The border has now been shifted further east and follows the course of the River Tamar.)  Had I known of the old border when we were in the villages, I would have looked out for the actual house which perches astride it and proclaims its unique position in its house name.  Continue reading “The View from Here: from winters past to winters present”