A sojourn to the Lakes

I listened, motionless and still; 

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

William Wordsworth

 

 

We are back from a week to the beautiful Lake District, welcomed back to Hazel Cottage by streams of swifts careering over the house and garden.  When we arrived at our very remote cottage we were rather charmed by the swallows swooping over us so it seemed quite right that the swifts welcomed us back home again.  This was my first visit to the Lakes and it served to prove that no photograph can ever do the majesty and scale of the mountains and hills and lakes justice.  I took hundreds of photos and although they remind me of the holiday they cannot really show what it was like - especially as I never managed to get a single swallow in a picture, even though they were always with us!

 

Before we went to the Lakes, I wanted to have seen a few of the lakes and mountains, as well as seen something of the lives of William Wordsworth and Beatrix Potter and what had inspired them.  We visited two of Wordsworth's houses, and saw his grave and some of the places that had inspired him, but it was Beatrix Potter who was ever present.  We went to her house at Hill Top of course, and saw her beautiful paintings in the Beatrix Potter gallery.  Her influence on the lakes however is immeasurable - the thousands of acres of farmland she donated to the National Trust which is still being farmed to this day, and the remote farms (including the one we stayed at) where she encouraged farmers to open their cottages to visitors at a time of financial depression. 

 

 

She was all around us it seems, and when I was surrounded by the countryside she loved so much, and saw the rabbits in the fields and the swifts swirling around our heads, it felt as if she was there, ready to paint he scene!

 

In the week we were there, I never tired of the views we saw, even the view outside our cottage was inspirational.  Now we are back home and planning nice things for the next few months to get over the shock of going back to work on Monday...

 

 

Blooming and growing

We came back from a wonderful holiday at the weekend and were eager to pop into the garden to see what had happened since we were last at home.  Rather arrogantly I expected that the garden would suffer without me there to tend and look after it.  What we discovered was stunning and humbling at the same time.  Our garden had done perfectly well without us for a week, in fact it had bloomed and grown hugely.  Roses, jasmine, alliums and foxgloves had all started flowering, the aquilegas and fennel had shot up in height and the cosmos and ox-eye daisy seedlings in the greenhouse had germinated. 

 

 

We spent a lot of time in the garden,  taking in all the changes that had happened, and trying to fight back against the weeds that were vying for attention.   In the hazel tree, we can no longer see the birds on the feeder as the leaves provide dense cover, although we can hear the blue tits, the finches and the blackbirds still, and the robins often appear on the fence waiting for us to start digging.  As if on cue, the swallows swooped overhead and it felt as if summer had arrived.  The changing of seasons carries on with or without us, although I like to think that we do help to make the garden more welcoming and beautiful.

The major vegetable growing season is now upon us and lots of work is needed to sow, tend, water and protect from slugs and snails, so Mr C will be very busy from now on.  Obviously the herbs and flowers do perfectly well without much interference from me, so perhaps I should spend some time just sitting and enjoying the garden!

I'm sure I've shared this poem before, but its one of my favourites and it feels rather apt:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

William Henry Davies

The first swallow (or swift!) of summer?

To me there are always certain markers during the year that indicate the change of the season - the first frost, the first sight of snowdrops, the leaves starting to fall, the apple blossom, the vegetable and hazel harvest.  I usually equate swifts and swallows with the beginning of long summer days and clear blue skies and sunshine.  At the weekend, during a brief respite in the rain, we went for a walk on the South Downs, and walked through a host of darting swallows (or swifts, I always get confused), swooping over our heads and over the nearby field scooping up insects on the wing.  It was wonderful to see them and made me wonder if they were signs of a lovely summer to come.  I wish I could show you some pictures but they were far too quick and anyway, a static picture of a swallow shows nothing of its beauty. In spite of the dull cloudy weather or maybe because of it, the woods were resplendant with green.  I only took a few pictures:-

Wonderful green!

Common dog violet

One swallow does not make a spring, nor does one fine day

Aristotle