Published in 1933
Forgive me for anthropomorphising, but I immediately thought of outraged teenagers.
When we first met, Bernie had no interest in garden birds. He professes never to have noticed a single bird. These days he takes on the task of cleaning out and siting our bird boxes and earlier this year he devoted significant time to constructing and trialling protection for last year’s swallows’ nest in which, very sadly, the three babies drowned during a downpour. (We have swallows nesting again now. We’re hoping for a happier ending this year.) Continue reading “Birds on the Balcony: undesirable nest box for occupation”
And perhaps today – when it is indeed much improved outside, though maybe not quite scintillating – perhaps all of that was still in my head …
With June has come summer. With June has come rain. It rained relentlessly yesterday. Thus, I was surprised to experience a delightful happiness and contentment driving along the drizzly road in the morning, gazing at the subdued greenery and grey skies. I thought of the beauty of the countryside even on this dark, damp and drab day. I thought of cosiness and warmth and how fortunate I am to have a dry home to return to. And how fortunate I am to be traveling through this verdant and ever-changing landscape. Today hushed and muted; tomorrow perhaps, scintillating and radiant. Continue reading “The View from Here: thoughts in the June rain”
Read for Dewithon 2019 and for the Classics Club Continue reading “The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp by W H Davies”
I shall try to remember the message of the trees.
“Yes, the estate remains open until dusk. But I’m afraid the bluebells are almost over.” The National Trust staff member looked genuinely crestfallen that we had perhaps made a futile journey. I wondered too. Had we left it too late? Not in the time of day – I had deliberately chosen late afternoon just as the main house and gardens were closing – but in waiting so late into the spring? The bluebells have been magnificent this year; we still had plenty at home. But had I left it too late to see them in their true glory – massed amidst spring woodlands? Continue reading “The View from Here: in nature’s cathedral”
Cathy, at 746 books, is hosting another 20 Books of Summer event. It will be my first. There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t do this. I don’t have a book blog (although you might be forgiven for doubting that); I already have numerous book reviews that I ought to be writing anyway (on the book blog I claim not to have) and I do have a propensity to drop out of blogging altogether for extended periods of time without warning. So really, it’s not sensible. But it involves lists and I love lists, especially book lists. Which raises another reason for not joining in: I already have a list of summer reading planned. At least, I did have. Since Cathy announced the start of the challenge I’ve been fiddling about with the original plan. Then other people began posting their lists which gave me ideas for how I might make my own even better and the selection changed again. Finally I think it’s ready. Continue reading “My Twenty Books of Summer”
The debate could have gone on for much longer; there are as many versions of Daphne’s relationship with Cornwall as there are people with a story to tell.
When Ali first posted about her plans to run a Daphne du Maurier Reading Week, she mentioned that she shares her birthday with Daphne – 13th May – and also that the Fowey Festival is always timed to include that date. Started in 1997, the festival was originally named after Daphne. It is now called the Fowey Festival of Arts and Literature and has broadened in content although du Maurier and her work continue to be a primary focus. It seems fitting that I end my series of Daphne posts with an account of my festival experience this year, limited though it was. Continue reading “Fowey Festival 2019”