… in the space between International Women’s Day and Mothering Sunday
For a week or so, I have been considering drafting a Mother’s Day post. It would have been one of my rambles, perhaps on my role as a mother and as a daughter. But today (I am writing on Thursday March 8th) leaves me wanting to pare down my usual florid style and take a different tack. In the end, I don’t know that I’ve done a lot of paring. But what I want to say matters to me. It stands as it is. Continue reading “The View from Here: thoughts…”
The view from here was obliterated by a maelstrom of angry swirling snowflakes blurred into a blinding curtain. It fell across the garden and the trees in the valley and very quickly the horizon was gone.
For a couple of weeks I had been musing on a nature/weather-related post based around the vagaries of the British weather. We Brits do love to talk about our weather! Continue reading “The View from Here: it doesn’t snow in Cornwall”
The view from here was much changed, but as ever, the passing of time has softened the blow.
The view from here has been aqueous
January draws to a close. One month ago this evening – on New Year’s Eve – it was wet. Torrentially wet. The tale of our attempts to enjoy the NYE celebrations at Looe may resurface at more length one day but for now I shall say only that the weather played a significant, and not very pleasant, role. B’s face probably says it all. Continue reading “The View from Here: water, water, everywhere”
And that moment captured the essence of this year’s Christmas, which for me was all about the very old and the very young.
It is the twenty-fifth of January. This time last month was another 25th. It was Christmas Day. Yes, a distant memory already; we’ve been back in the real world quite long enough to have packed away all thoughts of Christmas with the baubles and the tinsel. When it comes to including Christmas here in A Corner of Cornwall I’m even later than last year, but I do want a record of it and it is just a month back after all. Not so very long ago. But be warned. And if you really can’t stomach the thought a brief foray back into festive realms I can’t blame you. I suggest you move along briskly. Continue reading “The View from Here: Christmas 2017”
For me there was an atavistic connection: strong and raw. Unsophisticated, preliterate.
There was a darkness so thick it felt like a warm bath, yet the air was crackling sharp with cold. And the pin-bright sliver of moon hung over the water between the cliffs. A scimitar shining; sprinkling magic. Continue reading “The View From Here: reaching back”
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”