In a world of bustle and change there is always stillness
Outside, 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”
Swallows gathering in a group for a gossip is new to me. It makes me smile.
September 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”
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”
To walk along a harbour wall is always to walk with history
While others talk of signs of spring, I’m still in the throes of winter. I may be revelling in the birdsong and the sturdy, bright friendliness of the têtes a têtes; I may be delighted by the sight of scudding clouds in a bright blue sky and the clump of bashful purple crocus and the single bluebell I discovered this week (yes, really). But I’m not yet ready to let winter go. Shy pale primroses, shiny bright celandines and bold lemon and yellow daffodils have already burst upon the garden and the lanes here, and I welcome them. But winter shall have her time in the spotlight too. Continue reading “The View from Here: Of Winters Past …”
I’d like to bottle this autumn and bring it out to smell and savour whenever I need to stop and slow down and remember all that is good in this world.
It has been a languorous autumn. Long, slow and peaceful. Bright, crisp, sunny days only occasionally demarcated by a grey no-weather day or a day of relentless rain. Frosty mornings. Stunningly beautiful star-spangled velvet skies. Continue reading “The View from Here: autumn in a bottle”
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 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”