Some would find the old creaky floorboards that announce every move and echo it through the house musty and fusty, but it is gorgeous. Dark and with much of its original furnishings it is a delight to be able to step back so easily to a time more distant in lifestyle than in years.
The many walks around the farm, along the hilly paths and into the nearby towns are slow, with wildlife, scenery and little farm cameos demanding our prolonged attention.
The nearly fully grown calf trying for a late afternoon feed from a patient mother.
...and daddy looks on.....
The slug as big as a hand eating the tree mushroom.
...and other fungi...
The ducks cleaning and preening in the stream at the bottom of the garden, not at all far from our window and the front of the house.
The old stone bridge and stream.
The curious sheep that rush to see who you are and then remember they are really very shy and scamper off embarrassed and huddle and pretend they are very busy.
The mossy trees and rocks and lees of walls.
The flowers that choose to be resplendent in nooks that few will see.
The tall dark rugged mountains, a backdrop for Yew Tree.
Obedient dogs that discipline themselves not to chase the cat heading for the open boot of a car, but that are just itching.... and then they patiently stand guard for the night.
We head for bed and find her books casually laid beside the four poster. Jemima, Benjamin and Peter.
Aaaawww Jemima :). No wonder she wrote such beautiful stories with those surroundings for inspiration.
ReplyDeleteIt is very easy to relate the farm to her books. I would add slug and ratty to the new cast of characters.
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