Autumn Cottage Diarist

A Peaceful Wild Place on The First Day of Spring

How many times have you realised that something wonderful is just under your nose, so close that you don't even notice it? That is the case with the Thatcham Discovery Centre, one of our local wildlife reserves, just on the other side of town to where I live, just outside Newbury.

It's not one of the places I did not know about - it has been there certainly since my boys were small - we used to walk there, feeding the birds and taking my Mother for picnics. But I hardly remember visiting since she died, nearly 14 years ago - I guess I had just forgotten about it in some vague way. Now, with the spring air blowing the cobwebs away from my mind, all I want to do at the moment is be out and about, savouring the time of the year. So what better thing to do on the 'official' first day of Spring than take a walk around the lake with my camera, breathe in the air, sit peacefully with the birds? I can't really think of anything more enjoyable - and free! - so take that walk with me...this is what I saw...

Canada geese swimming in formation

The Dipping Pool - part of the educational facilities at the centre - notice the seating amphitheatre and tables for investigating what comes out of the water

Wild daffodils down the bank to one of the peaceful viewing points

A sandbank with canada geese and Mallard poking about

Goldeneye

Alder catkins, some 12-15 cms long

A pair of courting Great Crested Grebe

Dog Violets

Black-cap gull

Pochard

The willow stand alongside the centre, already almost fully green

The elegant courting dance of the Great Crested Grebes

Visit the website of the Discovery Centre here

The Day that the Robin Sang to Me

  Narcissus 'Jetfire'

It would have been a special day, yesterday, (as days wandering the Sir Harold Hillier Arboretum and Gardens always are for me), if it had only been for the explosion of springtime colour through the wintering brown earth. The bursting gold of the daffodils and narcissi, the yellow clouds of blossom on the Hammamelis, the pink airbrushing of the early cherry blossom. The appearance of different plants, alone, always gives me an infusion of joy, an immediate reconnection, though primarily my visual sense (though also though olfactory scents) with the totality of the natural world, of which I am just a tiny part.

Dried Miscanthus stems

Iris reticulata

Euphorbia chariacas 'wulfenii'

All this would have been enough...but I also had the pleasure of sitting in the warmth of the garden Pavilion restaurant, able to tuck into delicious Thai lentil cakes and green curry, drinking Elderflower presse and savouring what the gardens had to offer (swathes of wild daffodils spreading down the hill, the Winter garden full of colour and already beckoning me) before we made our foray out into the wild.

The heather beds in the Winter Garden

These two pleasures would have been enough...but I also had the most wonderful encounter with another species. We had walked down to the Great Pond, past the Gunneras still wearing their winter hats and for all the world looking completely dead (before they make their own grand entrance out into the world again in a month or two). We were walking up to Jermyn's House, past the Himalayan gardens and Ghurka Memorial, climbing up though the valley of burgeoning camellias, azaleas, and early rhododendrons. gazing upwards at the new blooms.

Camellia japonica

Magnolia grandiflora buds opening

Rhododendron

Distracted enough, that I almost stepped on a little Robin, bobbing about around my feet. I sidestepped, warned Alec to ‘take care!’ and fully expected the little bird (it was a vividly red-breasted cock Robin) to flutter off into the undergrowth, where a hen Blackbird was also bobbing about, fossicking in the bark chippings for insects, happily unafraid of us, but keeping her distance.

The friendly Robin

But the Robin did not keep his distance. He reduced it, hop by hop, bob by bob. He quite clearly fixed his gaze upon me, looked up at me, cocked his head from side to side, hopped closer and closer - and sang to me. He did not just sing. He sang to me. He connected his gaze with my eye, and addressed me as clearly as I have ever been addressed - by dog, by cat, by human.

He attempted to communicate with me - I did not understand what his message was - but a message he was quite clearly, and quite fearlessly, sending. It was not accompanied by any aggressive gestures; he came closer and closer, (about 30 cms away at my shoulder, when I sat on a bench) still fixing his eye constantly with mine. He warbled softly and most beautifully, directly to me, and I was immensely moved.

 I suspected that he had possibly been hand fed, though when I asked one of the staff exiting the building if that was the case, he said, no, nobody there had been doing that to his knowledge, and so wasn't I lucky to be having that encounter anyway? I  found it  almost impossible to respond to him, because I was, quite simply, choked and overcome. Words are inadequate to describe the emotion I felt, I just know that there are many of you reading this that will know just exactly what touched my heart. One day, we will understand Them.

Helleborus orientalis - the 'Lenten Rose' - under the still-bare trees

All these things would have added up to a most delightful day - but even then, there were more special things in store. There is always an exhibition of some artistic nature in the Pavilion; yesterday, three artists were setting up their wildlife paintings in preparation for today's opening of the exhibition entitled 'Inspired by Nature'. I felt particularly deeply engaged with the art of one of the exhibitors, Daphne Ellman, who works mostly in acrylics and had produced a captivating series of paintings depicting various animals and plants present during each month of the year in the UK.

These monthly 'portraits' have been turned into a calendar, which was a lot more affordable than the originals, but still fell into my 'well, I *could' afford it, but *should' I?’ category. While I pondered, Alec stepped in, generously purchasing the calendar as my Mother's Day gift for today from him. The calendar is set for 2013, but before then, it will most certainly be dissected and framed (though where in the world I am going to find the wall space, I really don’t know!)

All these things would be more bounty that anyone could expect on one day - but the final treat was presented when I asked the artist if she did any teaching at all? One of my 'goals for the year' has been to get back to some creative activity, which I have always needed, and for a long time now have not really pursued. She answered affirmatively, and said she had a two day workshop coming up in April. I have a 30th Wedding Anniversary coming up in May, and once more, before I could do any pondering at all, Alec leapt into the breach and paired the two together!

The Birch Grove

Narcissi with Pulmonaria - a planting idea...

...and another idea - wild planting along the rustic hurdle fence to the Children's gardens

Now I have the happy anticipation of the upcoming weekend, as well as the actual pleasure of taking part. How’s that for a long-lasting gift – and don't you think my cup more than ran over yesterday??

Share a sip from my cup by listening to that Robin's song, welcoming Springtime, as well as myself!

 

Hampshire Winter Wonderland

     Beautiful and beloved Winchester Cathedral

We are being given Christmas card days this December...the coldest since records began, apparently - but it has given me an opportunity to capture images which seem to hold the essence of the season. As before, I won't stay chatting - but you may like to see what the Christmas Market around Winchester Cathedral was like last Saturday - so pretty! Forgive the camera wobble in places - not easy to photograph at night in amongst the crowds!

Craft booths against the South wall of the Cathedral

A nun from the Orthodox Convent of St. Elizabeth in Minsk - beautiful carved wood figures on this stall - and if you look closely, see the intricate embroidery on her underskirt...

Oompah, Oompah - carols with the brass band!

All kinds of wreaths and garlands

Beautiful garlands made of berries - inspirational!

Hand-carved Green Men - a little too expensive for me this year.

More booths and bustle

A haven of peace just on the other side of the Cathedral wall from all the crowds...behind the HIgh Altar - a magical place at night.

My own personal place of perfect peace..the icons behind the altar. A solitary (I think Russian) woman knelt absorbed in prayer here...while her children played (quietly) with light wands beside her - a surreal but rather charming scene to witness.

Fairylit  path to the Cathedral and market

An inviting pub on the Cathedral green

Timber-framed shops and fairylights. Christmas is coming!!

 

Autumn Footsteps through Village England

Medieval glass fragments in Ewelme church (St John's chapel)

It was an almost Indian summer day for which one gives thanks at this time of the year. After weeks of rain, the sun came out - on and off - the wind dropped, the temperature was mild. I had seen a church that looked particularly interesting on a recent TV programme, and decided that 'living in the moment' was appropriate for this particular Saturday afternoon, so off we went to seek Alice de la Pole, the grand-daughter of the poet Geoffrey Chaucer.

There are certain places that just make the heart beat a little faster -  the village of Ewelme in Oxfordshire is just such a place. It is the sort of place which one imagines now only exists in tourist brochures enticing unsuspecting visitors to enjoy the delights of 'Olde Engelonde' - only to arrive and find a certain fast food outlet on one corner and stalls of tourist tat on all the others. Not so here. This is still the real thing - a peaceful portion of this oh so green and pleasant land - and on Saturday last it was both very green and very, very pleasant.

It was all of a piece - a place where everything goes together, everything harmonises - the church (rebuilt in the 1430's) and the adjoining almshouses as the focus, certainly, but each part of the rest of the village also seemed to be good mannered enough to take care of itself, not disturb anyone and just put its best foot forward. There were no 'experiences' or 'heritage centres' set up - the whole place was an experience of heritage - but one which had grown over many centuries, not manufactured for the delectation of outsiders. And it felt that  if we were as quiet and good mannered as the village, we were welcome to step into it and enjoy it as well. If you would like to share that experience which so entranced me then, come walk again around the village of Ewelme with me, allowing me to enjoy it once again in your good company :-). (As always, clicking on the image will give a larger copy to view).

Ewelme church with almshouses built alongside, on a descending slope.

The focus of my visit - the gilded tomb of Alice de la Pole, Duchess of Suffolk, and the grand-daughter of Geoffrey Chaucer, buried here around 1476.

Angels in feathery armour, supporting the pillow upon which Alice's head is laid. Alice herself wears a ducal crown.

Alice's tomb, situated next to the altar. Click on the image to see more clearly the frieze of angels supporting the heraldic shields of Alice's ancestry...and notice also the pierced arcade below them.

Much more difficult to see, (one needs to get down on hands and knees to get a good view, and almost impossible to photograph) another representation of Alice appears below the tomb top monument which shows her in her magnificence. Beneath is an image of Alice, lying upon her open shroud, as a cadaver...a decomposing corpse - a 'memento mori', reminding us of the state to which we will all return. (I suspected she was rare...my expert friend, Rohan, tells me that this is now the only female cadaver monument extant in England).

Elements of such a representation are unpleasant, but there is also a modicum of compassion in the way that the body was sensitively carved, after obviously close observation of the real thing. Alice is no longer  unapproachable - here, she is aged Everywoman, with withered breasts, modestly covering herself. It was tempting to want to reach out, smooth her hair, and quietly close her gaping mouth. I was strangely reminded of images of the dying Pope John Paul II - who, I feel, in allowing  his decline from Papal magnificence to a state of common humanity to be seen, was able to help me, at least, to contemplate and engage with feelings of compassion for those who are no longer 'winners' in the race of life, but are still and always totally worthy of being loved simply because of their humanity.

Another reminder of mortality, particularly in the way it constanly cast its shadow over the lives of women, is visible in this brass memorial to Catherine Palmer, who, we are told, left behind her six sons and one daughter, before dying, at the age of only 34 years old 'in childbed'.

Not all is doom and gloom, however. here is a cheeky Green Man I espied, hiding in the corner of a doorway and below, a gargoyle on the passageway to the Almshouses, doing its job of channeling water from the roof into the lead piping below, but with more than a little expression of bemusement on its face at the task in hand!

These steps to the Almshouses give away - by how much they are worn away - the age of the establishment and how many feet must have processed up and down them, from the almshouse cloister into the adjoining church and back again, over the period of centuries since they were founded.

We took the route from the church down the steps to the cloister - the charm of what greeted me at the bottom of the steps literally made me gasp. An enclosed courtyard, around which ran a cloister walk-way, leading to 13 almshouses, each with their own little door.

The Almshouses

The central courtyard was paved so very simply with red brick and greay pebbles set on edge...and upon those, pots and tubs overflowing with plants, mostly silver-leaved, with pale pink and deeper blue flowers, and alongside, acid green evergreen shrubs which gave a permanent structure to the planting. It looked stunning, but thinking about it just for a few moment, it became obvious how very achievable the effect was for anyone who wanted to try it in the smallest space.

Carved bargeboards

The effect depended on the contrast of red brick and grey pebble, and also the limited plant palette of sharp green, silver and blue. it would work on a tiny patio or a vast walled garden - I have somewhat done more or less the same in the herb garden and herb wheel here at Autumn Cottage - but here at Ewelme, the effect was delicious. (The weathered old wood only added to the charm).

Leaving the almshouse cloister, we discovered the third component of this most interesting grouip of buildings. Founded in 1437 'for the education of any child', what is claimed to be the oldest school building in continuous use sits even further down the slope - in the photograph below it is on the left hand side. Stepping through the gate and looking back, the building must seem daunting when encountered by a five year old on their first day at school, but its imposing character does certainly enhance the school's motto of 'dare to be learned' - and I bet it is nothing like as formidable on the inside as its extrerior leads one to believe :-).

Passing the village pond en route to the village shop (also serving teas) was the perfect end to a perfect, peaceful afternoon. The only tea-table was taken, so our next steps were towards Wallingford, panini and the Aldworth Giants...but that, as you would expect, is really another story.

You can discover much, much more about the church and village by reading this interesting History of Ewelme

More medieval glass in the church

The Fate of Honest John Buckett

 

In
Memory of
John Buckett
many years landlord of the King's head Inn
In this Borough
who departed this life November 25th 1802
Aged 67 years

And is alas! poor BUCKET gone?
Farewell, convivial, honest JOHN.
Oft at the well by fatal stroke
Buckets like pitchers must be broke
In this same motley shifting scene
How various have thy fortunes been!
Now lifted high, now sinking low.
Today thy brim would overflow.
Thy bounty then would All supply
To fill & drink & leave thee dry.
Tomorrow sunk as in a well
Content unseen with Truth to dwell:
But high, or low, or wet, or dry.
No rotten stave could malice spy
Then rise immortal Bucket rise
And claim thy station in the skies.
Twixt Amphora* and Pisces shine
Still guarding Stockbridge with thy sign.

(*Aquarius)

I thought you may enjoy a little break today from the heat of south-western France - to enjoy a particularly interesting headstone inscription, with fine, hand-cut lettering, in a small graveyard closer to home. These pictures were taken back at the beginning of May in Stockbridge, Hampshire, in the churchyard of Old St Peter's Church, which has been restored in recent years.

Old St John's Church, Stockbridge

I thought it was a redundant church - but there had, in fact, been a wedding in there on the afternoon that I visited - presumably with a small congregation, as the interior (decorated with Elizabethan wall paintings)seems to hold only about 50 people.

Interior of Old St John's - notice the wall paintings of the Tudor Rose left and centre

The exterior was, however, a dream setting for wedding photographs, with the churchyard filled with blossoming trees, cowslips and both the sight and scent of hundreds of bluebells. The freshness of springtime in England is unbeatable - especially after that seemingly endless winter!

Blooming and decay

Unusual iron cross grave marker

A rare 16th century grave marker, now set into the external render of the church

Blossom everywhere

T'was a Damp and Drizzly Day...

...I should have been painting skirting boards or writing essays...but I have cabin fever, and however much there was to be done at home, I needed to get out. I have a membership to the Sir Harold Hillier Gardens, just outside Winchester, which means that I get free entry for 364 days of the year - and as gardening particularly fires my blood at this season, off we went for the afternoon. It might have been better if the sun was shining, but British weather is never that predictable, and I think you will agree that the rain lent a certain softness to the colours that might otherwise have been more strident. They are technicolour enough as they are - and as you will see as you scroll through the photographs.

If you would all like to put your wellington boots on, you can join me as I retrace my afternoon garden walk. As we stroll along, I hope you enjoy the peace, the birdsong, and the soft patter of the misty rain.

Always there are sculptures scattered around the gardens

The Winter Garden - but with something interesting at every season

Burgeoning heads of Euphorbia chariacas

I love this sharp, acid green!
Harebells, bark pathways...the planting shown off to perfection by the dark brown of the composted bark mulches

The pathway down to the pond

The Leaf-House shelter

Bather

Ornamental rhubarb just unfurling

The marginal plant Orontium

Mother and young Moorhens fossicking about for insects along the pond margin

Hostas and Gunnera mannicata just emerging

Candelabra primula alongside the stream

Himalayan plantings leading up to the Ghurka Memorial...azeleas and rhododendron

Memorial to Sir Maurice Kadoorie, "benefactor to Ghurkas and their homeland"

A perfect place to rest awhile...

Exquisite rhododendron

New growth of Pieris behind another bank of azeleas.

**********

If you have enjoyed this walk around the gardens, you might like to send me (click the 'email me' link at the top of the page) your snail-mail address...I have three sets of three postcards showing plantings from Hilliers, which would look nice on an office pinboard, or in simple little frames. Free to the first three who ask for them :-).

Peaceful Places of Old England

This evening I invite you to accompany me on a walk around the ancient Hospital of St Cross just outside the even more ancient city of Winchester. This is how I very happily spent last Saturday afternoon - when, just over a week after we were knee deep in snow, the weather was mild and the gardens were showing the first signs of new growth. One of those afternoons when Spring hovers just over the horizon, making me so very grateful to be in England.

St Cross is a wonderfully atmospheric place...made even more enchanting by the fact that at this time of the year, not many other people seem to think that this is an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon - so we had the place virtually to ourselves.

The oldest 'hospital' of its kind in England - it was founded by Henri de Blois between 1132 and 1136 - it has provided both spiritual and physical support for the ailing for over 800 years. Today it houses 25 gentlemen Brothers - but is also the site of one of the most perfect examples of transitional  Norman architecture in the country. One of my own particular passions are medieval ceramics and this passion is greatly indulged inside the church, where the floor is extensively covered in a great quantity of  the most wonderfully preserved floor-tiles in a multitude of different patterns.

The brother's living quarters are - quite correctly - off bounds to visitors - but there is also another range of buildings housing the Masters rooms and ancient kitchens. I'll show you those in a later post, and you can read more about St Cross here and see several video panoramas here....but for now - follow me - and the two resident ducks - through this photo essay of a peaceful January afternoon stroll through a beautiful part of old England.

Fifteenth century covered walkway abutting the 13th century church

The Masters Garden with the Church of St Cross in the background

A description to amuse my American readers...

Not much growing in the herbaceous borders at present - but look how the coloured bark of the dogwoods gives a focus to the otherwise empty bed.
The entrance to the church with the Brothers Almshouses alongside

Some of the multitude of medieval floor tiles

 

'In memory of

Laetitia Daughter of

John & Ann Russell

Who died February 12 1759

Aged 4 years

A tender branch that lyeth here

Loved was by Parents dear

Few was her days long is her rest

From womb to grave She went apace'

The beautiful St Francis Window

The Warrior Chapel - notice the pierced stonework on the front of the altar

An immensely moving remnant of the Great War (1914-1918) - a marker cross, initially placed by the Grave Registration Unit to mark individual fallen soldiers in the field, before their reburial in official Commonwealth War Graves cemeteries. Their usage can be seen in this photograph

The so-called 'Bird-beak' window - it actually depicts a whole flock of birds surrounding the window opening..the feathering of each bird is most meticulously carved. Be sure to click on the picture, enlarging it to enjoy the detail.

...and at the end of the visit, a last look at a sheltered  hidden corner of the garden, where daffodils and primroses are already bursting forth. Who would not want to spend an hour here, pottering about in peaceful but active contemplation?

Just a Taster....

Rood screen, Carhampton

I've been editing a whole load of photographs from the main church-crawl that I did when on holiday in Somerset a few weeks ago - but life and its distractions have slowed me down. So here's just a taste of some of the interesting works of art that I saw when I was out and about in some of our greatest hidden art galleries here in the UK - our parish churches. Please be patient with me, and I'll have more to show you over the weekend.

More Tombs, Antiques - and a Skateboarding Dog!

 Salvage yard, Dunster
The third day of  five in Somerset, a day upon which I met The Truly Amazing Skateboarding Dog!    I kid you not, gentle readers - There I was, quietly wandering around a salvage yard, imagining what the dear old fireplaces must have looked like in their heydays, still installed in Edwardian houses, polished up with love and care, instead of here, gently rusting away until someone came to rescue them.
Heard a barking and a rushing, and feared the worst. A German Shepherd hurtling towards me - was I in a forbidden part of the yard? Did he think I was an intruder? Then I saw why he was approaching so fast...the blessed beast was skateboarding!!!
It was obviously his toy, and the fuss and noise were merely meant to tell me to get out of the way as he stepped on one corner, did an excellent three point turn, and sped off in another direction. The things you see in a salvage yard!!!

This was a day in the medieval market town of Dunster, and yes, you have guessed it, it was raining. The most moist day of all the week, and myself considerably under the weather, so not so many photos to choose from...but here are a few images of how I spent my time.

Back to the salvage yard. O Happy Day when I have the chance to wander around a place like this. I am sure there are good homes waiting for all these items, but it is such fun to just see them in their 'raw' state and hope that they are soon taken away, cleaned up and installed somewhere to enhance a house or garden. Old stone sinks, a wrought iron fire-basket, several eel-traps, a dove-cote, coal hods, an ancient washing machine -(the barrel shaped item) and a trio of windows that would grace any renovation once they had been cleaned up and painted. All the items somewhat overpriced, I thought...but if you are looking for just exactly one of those items, who is to say what the 'right' price really is, apart from what you are prepared to pay for it?

Took refuge in Dunster church during the worst of the downpours - where I discovered this very grand Luttrell tomb -look at trouble taken to show the detailing of the woman's petticoats... 

and a 'Memento Mori' triptych, bearing all the reminders of time and mortality - the sand-timers, the skull and crossed-bones, and the cherubic little ascending souls, carved somewhat naievely into the black slate slab.

 

Lunch in the cosy old kitchens of the 15th century Lutrell Arms, just visible on the right, behind the old Yarn Market here in the centre of Dunster,

and then back to Porlock, to visit the church of St Dubricius with its distinctive truncated tower. Inside, the early 15th Century tomb of Lord Harington - who fought with Henry the Fifth in France, and his Lady, her hair coiffured in an elegant embroidered head-dress, her head upon a pillow supported by two angels.

 

It was only a short walk back from the church to the apartment, passing another 15th century building, the Ship Inn, at the bottom of the notorious 1 in 4 Porlock Hill, before I was able to get warm and dry again.

I feel I have hurried you through this blog-post in rather the same way that I hurried through the day in Dunster...but once again, wasn't it worth braving the weather for all the interesting things I managed to see?

Avebury Interlude on an Autumn Afternoon

An old stone cottage on the edge of the village

Spent a delightful afternoon with a dear friend and five of her friends, thoughtful women all, celebrating her 'big 0' birthday with lunch and walk around the prehistoric stone circle of Avebury in Wiltshire. One of those unplanned days when everything turns out well - you meet people that make a real connection with you, the conversation is good, the weather was a benign gift, there was a bookshop selling esoteric books which cannot, of course, be resisted. And as always at Avebury, the atmosphere engendered by the landscape itself is so very, very special.
Take another walk with me, along the earthworks surrounding the stone circles. More about Avebury here....

Click on this extra large image to experience being right in amongst these magnificent beech tree roots

The track along the top of the earthworks surrounding the village and stone circles

Leaves falling just enough to start to see the underlying framework of branches..one of the benefits of autumn and winter

Autumn tree colour amongst the inner stone circle - the parish church in the background. Christianity once again following in the path of Pagan ancestors. 

Late afternoon and dusk ensues - a welcoming glow from some of the windows

The sun falls behind the old cottages and the church...time to wander home again.