Simple pleasures and seasonal living
Scarlet tiger moths flutter around the house in the early evening, weaving a spell of midsummer. The air they move through is filled with the scent of mock orange; a heady concoction, filled with memories of summers past. In the depths of the shady end of the garden the wild strawberries are ripening; fairy fruits…
A change is sweeping its way over the landscape. A shift. The crops are bleached, thistle down floats on the breeze, and the wayside plants alongside the village tracks are turning tawny; burdock and umbellifers browning as the season moves on. We walk out, hoping to catch sight of the combine out in the fields.…
We were heading in search of small things - spindle whorls, keys, beads, and linen smoothers - but a building in the distance caught our attention, and before we knew it we had stumbled across the biggest, most incredible view. A wide sky, water below, and mountain upon mountain in the distance. We had reached…
One of my favourite walks is to follow the edge of the copse at the back of the house, down the hill, across a little stream and a meadow, and up a hollow lane. At this time of year, bluebells carpet the floor of the copse punctuated here and there by the spires of yellow…
. . . past hawthorn hedge, and ash trees high. Out into meadowlands, towards the setting sun, through billowing umbillifers, and buttercups bright. Grass, vetch and clover left tall to mark where our steps should tread . . . . . . before reaching the open again. Time measured only by dandelion clocks .…
Continue reading ➞ As I walked out one midsummer’s evening . . .
