Thursday 5 November 2015

Gusts and rust...must be Autumn...

I know it has been an age since I was here with you...I'm sad about that. There are a fistful of posts sliding elusively through my fingers, half formed, half thoughts that never quite made it...I hate regret, it pierces through me but let's not be morose, here we are again, all is well.
Today you find me Indulging in all the small details of the table in the hallway outside the boot room. It's a thoroughfare, and I don't often linger here, but today in the half light the heather and the chrysanthemums are quietly singing and so I pause...

I am indulging my penchant for candlelight, baskets, autumn flowers...natural colours with dusty, rusty pinks...lighting lamps earlier in the day to combat the dimming light and the mist that has swallowed us whole. As the days shorten I long to be home before true inky black arrives here on our hill. Having said that, I never tire of the thrill of seeing, in the distance, the house, or rather the windows lit with amber light as we turn onto the top of the Lane. My heart leaps for home!






Outside the rain is tumbling and torrential, the gutters splutter and splash and the wind is torturing the last leaves clinging to trees. I listen to it all in the lamplight and send a silent prayer of thanks to the oak frame that wraps around us its back to the black...
-x-

Thursday 6 August 2015

Charleston Farmhouse

 
Yesterday Virginia and I went to Charleston Farmhouse, we had been threatening to visit together for months! Are you enjoying Life In Squares? It seems to have captured our imaginations, the house was fully booked thanks to the interest the BBC drama has sparked. Bloomsbury is back!
Click on the paintings to link to the brilliant BBC website "Your Paintings". Another reason, if we needed one, to continue supporting this wonderful British institution through the licence fee.

No interior photos sadly, but they are are widely available to be seen on the Charleston website and many others.Enough of my witterings, come and enjoy the garden with me...





 
Such an atmospheric place...felt their energy...sensed their colours...
~x~

Tuesday 4 August 2015

Introducing Horace!

 So Horace has come to live with us here at the Lane...but wait, I should start at the beginning...
 A while ago a kind Uncle gave me this matchbox Morris Minor Traveller. I say "Uncle" that conjures many connotations I know! But in this case we are talking about an Uncle that belongs to Mr.Lane. This Uncle has helped us to build our "home" together, both physically and metaphorically, he is the epitome of a Good Man.

This matchbox car is, in fact the replica of his own vintage Morris and so it was a lovely and symbolic gift. There was no great ceremony, he simply pressed it into my palm and whispered that he knew I would love it, he is right, of course I do.

That was just over 2 years ago, this week we took possession of Horace.Yep! Horace The Morris...


He has been settling into life here Down the Lane, slotting in alongside the Nissen Hut...


At night Horace and Fergie share the bays in the barn, Horace is not overly keen on the rain!
Horace smells, in a really good way! Horace smells of my childhood, bouncing around the North Yorkshire and County Durham border with Magpie in her grey Morris Minor 1000. To sit inside  and be overwhelmed by the smell of the leather lined doors and seats, the air scented by a whiff of eau de petrol seeping in from the engine...aaahhh, a little moment of happiness and pure regression, unlocked memories long since lost in the vault.

We are learning each other at the moment, Horace and I. Every morning I look out of the window and there he is looking directly back at me...I feel a swell of affection and gratitude coming in like a high tide...mostly I feel honoured to be entrusted with his future. Mr Lane says I make the gears sing, apparently that's not necessarily a good thing!

I am drawn to the ambiguous nature of the word Uncle, In different cultures Uncle simply means male relative. "Little Grandfather" Kin, Father. In my case this "Uncle" is simply mine through the serendipity of marriage. It is immaterial to me that we do not share blood...the tie is strong, the love and affection I feel is entirely due to the wonderful man he is. When he looks across at me with those kind and slightly laughing eyes it is implicit, less is more...

On the other side of the world the littlest Faraways are developing a fascination for classic cars thanks to Gently, Endeavour and Sylvanian Families. I long for the day when they catch their first lungful of Horace...all jumbled in together on the back seat...one day my loves...

~x~


Friday 24 July 2015

Norfolk Tale

 

Norfolk. North Sea facing and home to a cluster of incredible beaches. Timeless open rural landscapes peppered with flint and cob houses edged in red brick. Tidal estuaries and spits and staithes. Sailing boats and dinghies, clanking in the wind. Large rambling estates dotted throughout and consequently gardens to discover. The weather rattles through changing the mood...I love that.
 




 


In Wiveton...
quite!
 Hovering in a summery state of inaction.
~x~