as I gaze upwards where sun and clouds jostle for dominance.
Spring is here…. somewhere,
as I gaze at the bulbs. If I stand still, hold my breath, watch closely they will unfurl to reveal their chocolate box glory, is how it feels.
Spring is here… somewhere,
as the locals wear their lighter coats; optimistically, it seems; they shiver and mutter, spring is here….somewhere
Spring is here….somewhere,
the birds know it. They are everywhere, calling incessantly, flitting around me confidently proclaiming;
Spring is here…. somewhere
I am staying close to the village (hamlet?) All Saints. I have not managed to ascertain why it’s called All Saints, wishful thinking perhaps? 3 miles from the Devon coast, the nearest large town is Axminster. (The name seems familiar? Try Axminster carpets, since the 1700’s been manufacturing some of the finest carpets in the world )
So on a rainy wet morning I set off to see what was what.
And below is what was what
Like two young children let loose, Jill and I set off today to walk from Charmouth to Seatown. The forecast was largely clear, winds, showers, ie iffy if one is inclined to pessimism and good to go if you are Jill and I.
Iffy And good to go.
We were buffeted around on this 6 mile walk, at times with arms outstretched to keep our balance, looking for all the world like kids playing hopscotch; at other times sprayed with rain, then marvelling at the patterns the sun made on the sea, and all the while we puffed and panted up steep steep hills.
Looking across the downs we could see walkers; an elderly very fit man striding up a hill with his dog, families walking more leisurely across tiny paths just visible in the green; a couple huddled on a bench drinking out of their flasks.
Another special day
I’m privileged to be staying on a very large English ‘estate. It’s spring , which means the weather is, as it is in Melbourne, a topic for serious consideration. It also means it is quite unpredictable with the weather bureau forecasts a constant ‘go to’
After a very proper breakfast of boiled eggs, toast and tea, we walked around the ‘estate’: so green, verdant lush grass, trees, a creek; if it weren’t for the mud in my boots I could believe I was submerged in a Thomas Hardy novel, but here I am – for real some hundred of years on 😃
From there we walked to Lyme Regis (even the names are so delightfully ‘British’)
Severe cliff erosion ( a very serious problem here, as it is in parts of Australia) meant we had to walk through the town and golf course instead of along the cliffs. But this, too was enchanting, steep, out of breath walking, rewarded by stunning views of the coast and a delightful lunch on the beach front.
We walked on pebble stone beaches, along with others, all making the most of the spring day. Heavily wrapped in jackets, boots, scarves, hats, many with dogs; seagulls hovering, fishing boats resting.
Did I mention the imported sea sand so children could play on the beach? And did I mention that it is regularly washed away in storms?