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”
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
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. 
