The mud maid greeted us
on our Hallowe’en hike.
Not that we were seriously hiking.
More of a Saturday afternoon stroll if truth be told.
But Heligan appears to be hauntingly beautiful
whenever we visit
and this was no exception. Continue reading “Hallowe’en at Heligan”
A single boat glides silently through the waters below me. And I ask myself: who can fail to appreciate an afternoon such as this?
These passing October days have been crisp, clear and calm. Invigorating. Life-affirming. All that was wonderful about this October was encapsulated for me one afternoon mid-month when I walked a stretch of the coastal path. Continue reading “The View From Here: Lansallos to Lantic”
…the sky streaks with softest blush and ribboned strands flutter out across the heavens. The bright moon bathes in a sky-bath of pink roses.
Living just a few hundred miles further west than we were means the sun rises and sets about 15 minutes later than I’ve been used to. I wouldn’t have expected this to make much of a difference but it does. Already the mornings seem very much darker than I remember in autumns past. And I like it. I’m enjoying waking up in the dark; the bed warm and cosy; the bedroom chilly, making it that little bit easier to stay wrapped in the duvet. If I’m lucky, Harri will be still sleeping quietly somewhere on the bed. It’s a good time for letting my thoughts drift drowsily; a good time for gratitude. The world is waking up; the whole day stretches before me: Continue reading “The View from Here: mist and morning moons”
The view from here is wide open
It is the first day of September and I have climbed the stairs to a perfect, golden, early-autumn morning. The cows are back; they’ve returned overnight and are strung lazily across the valley: sturdy calves quieter now: smaller forms of their placid mothers. Their burnished hides glisten as the sun warms them; their shadows long across the pasture. Continue reading “The View from Here: new day, new month, new year”
Fields have been cut and now lie quietly: yellow, dusky browns and soft ochres permeate the view
Title unashamedly stolen from Nicole at An Entertaining Mess.
August has not been great. It’s had some wonderful highlights to be sure, but it’s also had some stress and energy dips and significant upsets. Opportunities for posting have been few: either through other commitments or through lack of brain power. Although I have a few posts published in August, as the month draws to a close I have others as yet unwritten from July. I’m feeling muddled: on the blog; in family relationships; in the house, the garden, the car…. I’m just one massive befuddled muddle!
It will pass. And meanwhile, September approaches. I love September. Continue reading “The View from Here: anticipating September”
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”
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”
I have the golden energy of those fleeting summer hours bottled in my heart but it will not burn for long. Memory is fickle
We have had four full days of summer sunshine. Blistering, brilliant sunshine that fizzes, and fills the air with crackling energy and luminous promise. When the day is brimming with such self-belief it is impossible to imagine that it will ever go away. Logically, I know that it will, but in my heart it has been here – and will remain here – forever. Continue reading “The View from Here: contrasts”
The brume abounded and I abandoned all domestic demands and entered into a quiet, parallel universe
The first third of July passed in a whirl of fatigue, car problems, family dramas, unexpected arrivals, fog, mist and dimpsey days. Continue reading “The View from Here: vanishing valley, vanishing view”
“We do not remember days; we remember moments.” Cesare Pavese
With June has come the green. The trees are in full dress.
Walks on our doorstep …
are mellow and enticing …
…and enhanced by curious cows.
Grassy verges are lush and abundant …
… and industrious workers are kept busy.
The garden is fragrant with blooms.
And under the tree is the perfect spot …
… for sitting and loving …
… and sitting and reading.
We had more visitors on the balcony …
… we had views and vistas …
… and we had the sea.
There were beaches for small boys to play on …
… and for quiet contemplation.
June was a month for:
wild flowers,
garden flowers,
and exotic flowers.
And for …
Singing in the Rain.
A Corner of Cornwall 