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”
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”
… an English summer’s day is such a joy, how can we not yearn for many of them?
How do I remember June? She certainly gave us a performance of two halves.
Her early exploits were dry and warm, with blazing days of open skies, freshness and bright sunshine. Summer was splashed all over June’s opening scenes. Continue reading “The View from Here: rose-coloured June”
Once I’d stopped to think about a rainforest I recalled that under the canopy there is little light and relatively little colour. There was a lot of green
It was raining and distinctly cool. The paths would be wet and slippery; the views veiled by mist. Walking was off the agenda. We opted instead for a local attraction which offered at least some shelter and some more attractive temperatures: we had a day at the Eden Project. Continue reading “Singing in the Rain at the Eden Project”
it is on the sailing cloud and in the invisible wind
With the run of warm dry weather broken, we moved from gentle rain to heavy rain to thick cloud. A brooding, oppressive sort of day. The colour of this day was gunmetal grey. Continue reading “Birds on the Balcony: silhouettes in symphony”
On a sunshine-filled day in May, the view from here is exhilarating.
It seems that when it rains in Cornwall, it rains properly. Often it’s a soft, gentle rain, so fine that it’s almost invisible – unless you’re standing in it. And sometimes it’s hard, heavy and unforgiving. We’ve had entire days of rain, and even more long nights of it. But looking back at May, I think we did pretty well on the weather front. Continue reading “The View from Here: exhilarating May”