Springtime is … surely the very best time to inherit a garden
I always intended to write about the garden on a monthly basis at the very least. But the month is gathering herself to a close; a great deal has been awakening outside and I’ve yet to start recording what we arrived to and what April herself has achieved. Continue reading “April in the Garden? Eventually!”
I wonder whether Gilbert would have been able to explain the wonderful buzzard activity I witnessed
I stood at the window for some time when I arrived upstairs this morning. The birds obligingly came in numbers and posed prettily. The dull light seemed to amplify their colours. Quarrelsome chaffinches; fragile long-tailed tits and their slightly larger blue cousins. The smart livery of the great tit, and on the other end of the balcony an especially smart female Woodie fed for long minutes whilst I watched. Continue reading “Birds on the Balcony: civilised rooks and tumbling buzzards and Gilbert”
The view from here is dank, dismal and dripping. … the valley is poised to pull out its summertime splendour but that won’t be happening today.
Harri pulled me from sleep this morning. Her persistence finally overcoming my resistance, I left the warmth of B and the duvet and climbed upstairs. I knew from the light – or lack of it – that it must be wet outside and it is. It’s raining. Continue reading “The View from Here: rain, pongs, and problems solved”
The view from here stretched back centuries: time meant very little.
Tuesdays have become notable since we arrived here. On our first Tuesday I found Lansallos Cove. On our second Tuesday Broadband found us. And on this, our third Tuesday, we woke at dawn and B said: “Let’s go out for lunch today.” And we did. It was perfect. Continue reading “The View from Here: Lerryn”
The view from here is harmonious, breezeless and beautiful.
I climbed the stairs this morning to a rosy, frosty sunrise. No mist today, and the fields had a coppery hue as the early golden sunshine bounced off the bejeweled grass. Continue reading “The View from Here: where sheep may safely graze”
I’d managed my first trip away from Cornwall without permanent mishap.
My sons run. I rarely watch them in shorter races but marathons are different. So much time invested; such discipline, training and preparation; markers set for personal improvement. That degree of effort deserves support in its own right, but also, I like watching. The larger events are awash with atmosphere and humanity: competitors from the silent, skeletal knots of African elites, invariably leading, through to the overweight, the joggers and the walkers. Costumed runners; joyful runners; haggard and struggling runners; hobbling, shuffling, waddling. They’re all here – and I applaud them for lining up, for having a go. Continue reading “A Flying Visit (or Best Laid Plans?)”
“I walked this land with a dreamer’s freedom….”
Our weather remains mercurial but we had one amazing weather day this week. Continue reading “Hellebores and Tea with Daphne”