featured, Landscape, Life

On the wing

Yesterday, I saw my first swifts of the season. In Plaxtol’s high street, a faint and much-loved cry made me look up, and there they were: three sickle shapes winging overhead. (I’ve written about swifts before.) There was some rain in the night – the most Plaxtol has had for many weeks – and this morning […]

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Quote

Every man almost is a builder, and … will not be quiet till he have pulled down the old house (if any were there standing) and set up a new after his own device.

William Harrison, Description of England (1577)

Away, Landscape, Life

Coherence

April has been a month of profound contrasts. Remarkably warm days a couple of weeks ago have brought wildflowers, garden blooms (many tulips have come and gone) and fruit blossom out much earlier than usual. Apple blossom is not usual in Plaxtol until the start of May, but now the trees are already covered

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Away, Landscape, Life

Enjoying the countryside safely

Blogging at The Farm Upon The Hill, Kate Morris is a working vet living on a Pembrokeshire dairy farm with her partner and two small children. In a recent post she tackled the question of enjoying the countryside in safety. Her observations struck a chord with me, and so I have reblogged her reflections here.

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Landscape, Life

The glow of September

Autumn has arrived in the valley. Despite record high temperatures this week, the season can no longer be denied.  Blackberries are ripening exponentially, day after day, spiders’ webs glisten with dew at dawn, and there has been a subtle shift in the spectrum, toward a clarity, a purity of tone which does not exist in summer. […]

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Away, featured, Landscape, Life

Gathering thoughts in May

Robert Browning may have craved his homeland in April (and who would not?), but is there any month more urgently, lasciviously, resplendently English than May? The very word drips with subtext; with sappy, fleshy undercurrents of light, warmth and fecundity.

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Landscape

Saying ‘goodbye’ to a friend

Sadly, a casualty of Storm Katie was the horse chestnut tree which stood at the foot of Dux Hill. It was such a handsome tree, its sticky buds just breaking into bright green soft leaf, full of the promise of the white flower heads, called ‘candles,’ to come.

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Landscape, Life

A winter walk

These frosty nights have aroused the fox. I heard him go down the lane, the last two nights, barking Wow-wow-wow on the cold starlit air. But now it is day, the sun high, and I have letters to post.

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