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”
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”
Now I could absorb … the faded glory of the earliest blooms – already past their prime and thus already in that wonderful blowsy, bleached state of unkempt, vintage splendour: their last hurrah
We have roses: baby pink, deep yellow, fiery red. And a lilac: I’d not even realised we had a lilac until I saw its lanky, lazy purple-tipped blooms. A clematis; huge, pink rhododendrons … A week of dry, warm weather and the garden is showing us its summer garb. Continue reading “June in the Garden: an evening stroll”
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”
Like the trees in Larkin’s poem, we are beginning afresh.
Quite a few years ago I had a pen-friend in Saskatchewan and she used to refer to ‘green up’. In her corner of the world there was snow for many months and then – suddenly it seemed – green up. I often think of her and that phrase at this time of year. Continue reading “Green Up”