Showing posts with label country walk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label country walk. Show all posts

18.11.21

In search of blue

 
In search of blue on a November day, I went walking hereabouts. Lowering clouds clung to the cap of Caer Caradoc.

 Across new shoots, a thin patch of sky over an isolated farm.

 
 
 Over wintering sheep grazing, fat and content in the emerging sun.
 
 
 Farmhouse chimneys, warm and red .
 
 

Nearing home. Suddenly the sun sweeps widely across the fields, and all is a blaze of cerulean, green and gold.


And there it is, where you least expect it; a large stone glowing coldly in the dirt path; icy aqua, a glacier in miniature and I have found my blue.

30.7.09

Blowing away the cobwebs



We have found a new walk, almost on our doorstep. My cold (not helped by getting caught in a shower) needed a final nudge to send it on its way. It's given us a whole new aspect of our village, somewhere over there, in the middle of the greenery. It was a blowy day, and a fledgling bird of prey was testing its wings. Andy thought it was a kestrel as it was quite small and had a similar flight pattern. I thought it was a buzzard, because of the markings and lack of grey hood on it's head. We Googled images and emerged even more confused. Any expert opinion (as opposed to our amateur guesswork) is most welcome.




Naturally there had to be a picnic. And a picnic needs a view. Ideally there should be fizzy pop, boiled eggs, Mr Kipling cakes, and rolls or sandwiches. We were greedy and had sausage rolls as well. Don't forget the Maldon sea salt for the eggs. (Andy's knee is not compulsory).





If it seems as if I spend a lot of time going out for walks - well yes, I do. And we are lucky to have so many on our doorstep. My life - in the summer - is pretty much compiled of needle felting, walks, watching cricket matches and little domestic things, such as cooking and tending our veg patch. In the winter it is the same, but without the cricket or the veg patch. Much of this is from choice, but I have no disposable income, and all of these things are free or cheap. It is quiet, but it suits me; it makes up for the first twenty four years of my life, which were - well, not exactly ideal, by a long chalk. Some people see their childhood and youth as a golden time in which they had their happiest time. I was not so lucky, so I am very appreciative of what I have now, and bless every day in which I have Andy and the small things of life. Which are not so small really.

Rather like my cucumber - what a whopper!



23.2.09

A weekend off

This one's for me



I seem to have suddenly acquired a quantity of work, through private commissions and a rather large trade order. All of these have 'CONFIDENTIAL' stamped across them, in big red letters, but suffice to say that I have been stabbing away with my hot little felting needle every day for about 8 hours in the studio and then some more in front of the evening television (else Andy wouldn't see me at all...) In fact, I have been in danger of overdoing it, as Friday night found my wrist quite strained and painful, so I had a weekend of enforced rest. Which gave me a chance to make a list of things I haven't had time to do and must do before the world falls apart.

Updating accounts
E-mailing neglected friends and contacts
Tidying studio
Making marmalade
Putting together trade card order
Order more glass eyes
Ditto logo ribbons
Make lemon drizzzle cake for cake starved partner

I got some of these done. Studio is now tidy-ish, accounts and emails dealt with, big, buttery, lemony cake baked and nearly vanished. But by Sunday I needed to get out, so we took the bike across to our favourite part of round-here and I cobbled together a little film of it.

In anticipation;

1) This contains some footage shot from a moving bike, so if you get motion sickness or suchlike, best avoided.
2) I was very careful about taking the films, the motorbike (a Honda Varadero) is built like a tractor, we were going slowly, Andy is a brilliant and safe driver, the lane was deserted, and I've been riding pillion in all conditions for a decade.
3) There is some music with it.
4) If you can watch it in full screen at high quality, the landscape shots are rather pretty. You can't do this with the blogger film here, but you can with the Youtube version.





OTHER NEWS

I have a few animals for sale, ranging from 45 - 60 UK pounds (65 - 88 US dollars) and a little shipping. If you'd like advance details of these before I post them up here on the blog, let me know and I'll e-mail the info - I'm not putting them on Etsy to start with, as I've had so many enquiries from UK people who aren't comfortable with Etsy or its dollar system. This is the last batch I will have to offer for a while as I have so many orders to fulfill.



So here we are again at Monday, and another 6 days of wooliness. I'm not complaining at all, just thanking my little bunch of angels who work overtime for me. (There are seven of them and yes, I really do believe they are there).






8.2.08

Flood fields in February

Here in the Cotswolds we are spoilt for country walks. There are rambles we have tried and scorned, which are really perfectly pleasant - just not quite up to the golden standard we have come to expect from our patch of the world. Once in a while we find one which pings all the right bells. We will return, we say. And we do. This week we made a new discovery, only a quarter of an hour ride from home - and we had it mostly to ourselves. (Except for a couple of other walkers coming the other way, one of whom was wearing all the correct trekking gear for a winter hike in the Northern Fells, complete with walking sticks. He did seem to be taking the gentle, grassy footpaths a little too seriously).




The meandering Windrush was in full spate and almost bursting its banks; water was already lapping over the shallow banks and roaring through the floodgates.
But it looked peaceful enough from a distance.





Negotiating soggy, marshy fields and climbing up to higer, dry land, heading to the most gorgeous farm in splendid isolation and a vivid, but strangely attractive green barn...






...ahead of us, the original farmhouse and outbuildings, the old stonework in excellent condition, though it appeared to be boarded up.





Through the farm track and past yet more silent, deserted stone treasures. In a
crumbling porch, ferns sprouted opposite a dark, guano spattered nest entrance, the sad decay benefiting the resident Barn Owl.




A well cushioned tree enjoying spacious views across the estate -






- and back onto farmland, observing that the field ahead was incongruously orange for this part of the county; such rich ochres are normally to be found over on the Banbury side of Oxfordshire. The stonework of cottages also gradually metamorphasises from blonde to brunette, our country dwellings having been built from the very landscape in which they nestle. (Remember this field, it will reappear in a few seconds).





By now we were heading for the beautiful Sherbourne Estate, startling a distant herd of deer, who soon settled back to grazing when they realised we were safely on the far side of the field.




It was a fresh, spring-like day, and although wildlife was still hesitant in emerging, the birds were busying about, filling the air with happy carols. This manmade estate has been allowed to revert to its original state of flooding through managed drains and ditches. Wonderful for flora and fauna. But a little - muddy - in places. I took the opportunity, while stuck in a boggy patch, to shoot a little verbal tutorial on the history of the flood fields. This is really for my lovely blog- friend Lisa Oceandreamer, who was brave enough to put herself on the interweb, and who has requested a voice sample. (Apologies for my mongrel accent, picked up from everywhere).





And apologies for the sniffs - fresh air does that to me. Time to be heading heading home, via the other side, noticing - (are you paying attention at the back?) the orange field...




...the flood plain (right at the back, just visible on the righthand side) where we had our interesting little lecture...




...and the farm, modestly snuggled into the earth but given away by its sturdy green barn. (Nearly there, only a little further).



Time for one last draught of serentity...


We are somewhat sore with Winter unfitness. But the sap is rising and there will be out and aboutings in and around our lovely Cotswolds. I will spare you the lecture next time.

17.5.07

Thursday promenade

A fresh morning with a damp breeze wafting perfumed billows across the fields...




One of a pair of boxing hares, too far away for my little snapper to get a decent shot. Not seeing me, being hidden in a dip in the meadow I managed to get quite close before it lolloped cautiously away through the dandelions.





The summer wheat bursting skywards.




The dainty print of a roe hind, recently passed through -





The hawthorn hedges bowed with heady blossoms -





Drowsy cattle at the back of the flour mill.



and home for breakfast.