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”
…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”
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 felt that my man on a bicycle deserved some seriously good chocolate
The rain continues unabated and my patience has begun to wear thin. Perhaps I can cite that as my excuse for being somewhat impatient when I set off on the 3-mile trip to Pelynt one morning. All of the journey is along single-track roads, which is not a big problem as there is very little traffic. But on this occasion I met a bicycle. Continue reading “A Man on a Bicycle and Cornish Chocolate”
For a while a single buzzard owned the space between the earth below and the heavens above, framed by the branches over my head which arched so I felt like I was watching this scene from a silent, vaulted cathedral
I have a picture in our bedroom: Roses by Peder Kroyer, painted in 1893. It’s of a woman wearing a long white dress and she is reading – sitting in a garden chair in the sunshine with a large floriferous white rose in the foreground. Continue reading “The view from Here: under the tree on a sunny afternoon”