A Lone Bagpiper calls us Its unique tones drifting across the loch Clambering up the majestic mountain Skittering over the manicured lawn.
Gently herded by the music the wedding guests gulp down remnants of welcoming champagne, late-comers gaze longingly at the table of filled flutes.
A winding path leads us down to the loch onto the lawn. Nail thin stilettos pierce the grass jammed into the turf.
Traversing a wooden bridge the rope railings swing merrily to the steps of the hundred people.
Ahead looms a steep woodland path, the sunlight playing chase with the shadows of the conifers.
The Piper urges us upwards and onwards, decorative hats bob up and down enjoying their rare outing.
Below, stragglers pause on the bridge for photos.
Quiet conversations burst around me, friendships in their infancy. The tender chit-chat of ‘How wonderfully unusual.’ ‘Aren’t they lucky with the weather?’ ‘Is it much further, do you think?’
To the last question, it isn't!
From the soft gloom the guests step forth, pausing in awe.
We have entered The Land of the Fey!
In the bewitching sunny glade an officiant dressed in a white robe stands behind the wildflower-decked table patiently waiting for the hoard to settle.
A fiddler stands to her left the light lilting music bidding us to our slightly sloping seats, Bride’s guests to the left, groom’s to the right.
A packet of crushed wildflower petals for confetti rest on each chair.
Enchantment swirls around us all, hushed whispers of wonder in this haven of natural mystique.
The guests at this Inspired church of nature stand as one.
The most spiritual of ceremonies Begins.
Holding the hand of her chief bridesmaid’s mother a sprite of a flower girl leads the way. Not a dry eye as the father walks his daughter up towards the front.
In the full traditional Scottish garb the groom takes the hands of his soon-to-be wife.
A touch of the Celtic lores weaves its magical influence over the ceremony.
Two tartan bands are bound across the couple’s joined hands. Literally tying the knot!
In the ancient custom of Love, friendship, trust and honesty A quaich is passed between the two.
The two-handled silver cup filled with symbolic whisky and honey. They drink, their union becoming more profound.
Two readings, both from the world of literature, resound across the gathering, across the trees, the loch.
‘The Perfect Moment is now.’
It is! All our hearts are full. The legal marriage vows are exchanged sealed with a bountiful kiss.
It’s time for celebrations in honour of the newly married couple To start with abundance!
Below is one of the beautiful and inspiring readings from ‘The Thief of Time’ by Terry Pratchett:
‘Wen considered the nature of time and understood that the universe is, instant by instant, re-created anew. Therefore, he understood, there is, in truth, no Past, only a memory of the Past. Blink your eyes, and the world you see next did not exist when you closed them. Therefore, he said, the only appropriate state of the mind is surprise. The only appropriate state of the heart is joy. The sky you see now, you have never seen before. The perfect moment is now. Be glad of it.’
Join me for a quick look at the magical walk to the ceremonial glade.
The Lone Bagpiper leading us down the hill to the loch & lawn
And across the wooden bridge!
Below are photos of some of the local stunning scenery, as well as the rabbits in the Beatrix Potter Garden and image of a quaiche.
For the rest of August I will be in Sweden and as many of you know the holiday homes there, in the midst of the forest, are not connected to wifi. Although I look forward to answering comments on this post via my hotspot connection I will otherwise be taking an extended blogging break until September. Wishing you all a wonderful, peaceful, and healthy August!
It started with an email. As a subscriber to the local garden centre’s newsletter they kindly offered me a tray of wildflowers. A sucker for anything floral and even better if free I was eager to acquire some. There was only one problem — I was in Sweden and the offer expired before my return. With a big sigh I accepted this was one deal I’d not take up.
A day after my return to England another missive stated that the offer had been extended one more week. Imagine the dash to my car, engine revving, tyres kicking up the dust as I drove away! Unfortunately this was not my departure to the garden centre, rather a subdued tired drive, remembering to keep on the left and at last I was there.
Stepping past tables of beautiful blooms, bushes in full display and hanging baskets in all their glory, I enthusiastically walked up to the tills to claim the free tray. With unmatched enthusiasm, I was directed to a trolley outside. My heart sank a few notches. Before me were three forlorn trays, featuring the straggliest weedy flowers! I nearly caved into my initial desire to leave them alone before choosing the best of the worst and headed home. Maybe, I hardly dared to hope, maybe with TLC galore they might flourish.
Mid May – the straggly ten wildflowersMid May – planted and looking rather lost!
In the following days and weeks, I avidly studied the wildflowers which had been delicately planted in a corner of the garden. What magical transformation as the warmth, sunlight and watering helped them recover and grow in unrivalled spurts.
Mid June – Promising!Mid June – First flower!
Soon glorious green plants with fragile flowers swayed in the breeze, filling the mass of brown earth with buoyant blues, reds, and yellows.
End June
Nurturing and growth became the motif for me during the month of June. A month of reflection and these humble wildflowers symbolised the metamorphosis within me.
The wildflower garden this week in July – full ground cover.
Having helped a young couple over two weekends to move into their first home I pondered the love, care and nurturing that led to this moment. To help them find their wings and to give them belief in themselves. Heartened by their joy and excitement my thoughts drifted back to my life.
This month my husband and I celebrated 25 years of marriage. I must have blinked for a moment or a lot longer as I was not at all aware when those years flew by. For days I contemplated this Silver occasion, waiting for an epiphany to strike me. Instead, an awareness crept up on me, maybe while gazing at the wildflowers, the roses and poppies. That the richness in life is in the minutiae, that it is impossible to sum up a quarter of a century of togetherness. However, the growth, the care and nurture of each other and our relationship is tangible, an exponential development of our existence. The small moments of caring and love, of understanding, of laughter creating a whole.
We celebrated over a long weekend with friends. On one afternoon I was entranced by talented students at the Yehudi Menuhin School in Surrey, England. Founded by the master violinist in 1963 the school, with just over eighty students from ages 8 – 19, takes in pupils from around the world, whatever their financial circumstances.
The orchestra and auditorium at the Yehudi Menuhin School (Photo from school website)
As they are guided by their teachers, so our spirits were lifted by the sheer and absolute beauty of the music. I was transported up and beyond the wonderful auditorium, tears in my eyes. At one stage my friend put a knowing arm around me and we just nodded. No words were needed then. Later picnicking on the school grounds with the other members of the audience conversation flowed easily, our joy shared as we discussed our awe of these young gifted musicians.
The importance of our roots was reinforced during the visit to one of England’s largest vineyards. Set in the beautiful Surrey Hills the chalky soil is key to the success of the 256 acres of vines at Denbies Wine Estate.
Each year is fraught with possible hardship, particularly from the elements with regard to frost and rain. The grapes are harvested by hand for the most part, tenderly picked to avoid any damage to the skin which in turn would effect the quality of the grape’s juice.
Below is a slideshow of a series of carved oak barrels exquisitely detailing the wine making process from the training to the tasting!
Once again the theme of nurture and care, of dedication flowed through this beautiful and relaxing visit. The highlight of the visit included the tasting experience of some of the sparkling and table wines as well as a road train tour. The latter provided stunning views of the landscape and the hills full of young vines with a chance to view the young budding grapes just as they were emerging from the flowers.
The flowers have just ceased and young grapes soon on the way.Young vines trailing down the steep hillside.
How could we not celebrate our special day without a romantic meal? I was overjoyed to have the chance for a sublime meal and experience at The Ivy. The iconic restaurant was founded in 1917 and even this one, an hour away from the original in London, features the signature harlequin stain-glass windows!
Me outside The Ivy after dining!
The Ivy is not somewhere we would normally go but wow, the food was superb, the dining experience exquisite and we were even presented with a surprise delicious anniversary dessert!
Our surprise chocolate choux pastry and strawberry dessert.
The evening is engraved in my mind and spirit.
To finish my post, I want to share a few sentences from a precious letter written to us by my dear departed grandfather upon our marriage. (To those who do not know, he was a fisherman.) As always upon reading this loving analogy I am struck by his eternal wisdom.
‘ It is rather difficult to explain to someone else what a marriage is to me, but I will use an image.
That this will be a boat (a fishing boat) is quite natural to me. The boat (love) is setting out to sea, out to the North Sea. It isn’t a day trip; it will probably be a week before you are home again.
You are not guaranteed nice weather. It is autumn and you have to meet storms as well as sunshine. What is the first to do before you set out on such a trip? It is to check the condition of the boat which is to carry you. You don’t set off with a boat that is ready to ‘fall apart’. No, it has to be of the very best material available. The engine (heart) has to be strong and safe. You have to learn to listen to the engine that you can hear the smallest change in tone and rhythm — and as quickly as possible correct any fault. I hope you understand my image.
Yes, this I also have to say: when you have been fishing for days and nights and have no strength left, then drop the anchor and fasten the hawser at the front. The rest and sleep is indescribable. Do not forget the anchor and the hawser. One more thing, do not anchor on clay bottom — it can set you adrift. Anchor on a hard bottom so you can trust your anchor.’
What is it about a tree house that beckons us so alluringly? A structure much loved over the years, one feels it promises so much, to step amongst the tree-tops, reach ever so slightly closer to the sky, feel the sense of mystical as one, for once, gazes down upon the earth.
The tree-house this morning was handily equipped with sturdy steps and railings, no need to clamber through twisted branches, avoiding bare sticks ready to blind and scratch. Handy yet not quite so adventurous!
Inside the magical tree house, a large branch spiked its way into the centre of the surprisingly spacious wooden crow’s nest and I danced around a little, pausing to admire the view. Before the wood was fully grown one would have been able to look out for over fifteen miles but I did not mind the retreat, nestled and surrounded by many more trees. Safe and secure up here, cosy within Nature’s richness!
Down on the ground the sense of a time warp continued; I left my childhood self playing in the tree house, while my adult being, back on terra firma, wallowed in the immersive tranquility of the gardens. Stepping away from the busyness of everyday life to utter peace, the haven was an abundance of treasures!
I scrunched a path across the deep pile of gravel to absorb the quiet and beauty of the restored Italian Garden.
A heron majestically flew across the lake at the far end of the gardens.
The silence in the walled garden was only interrupted by the flitting of the butterflies.
I stopped to talk to a volunteer gardener about their fragile guests and he said how these numbers were nothing compared to the previous week when he was surrounded by a cloud of butterflies!
My imagination played riot with this event, conjuring up the wonder of walking among a cloud of butterflies, the sight, the sound and no doubt the sensation of the wings! The picture is still in my mind! I took many photos on this little outing but the image engrained in my brain is from this one line. May I return in time next year to experience this incredible encounter!
After a grey and unusually cool summer in England, the September heatwave was a stunning surprise and an opportunity to enjoy the sunshine. A week later it is time to bid adieu to the summer for real, a tentative cool has swept in, the tart morning chill a fresh and welcome start to the day.
It is that sweet time of year, the flowers still clinging on to some of their resplendence; I’m thankful for the beauty and colour before the starkness of winter.
Note: The photos feature from a visit to The Forgotten Gardens of Easton Lodge, near Dunmow, Essex mid-September which is only open to visitors every Thursday and one Sunday a month.
What better way to dispel the gloom and weariness of a long winter than visiting a 900-year-old outstanding Norman castle and its beautiful idyllic grounds on a sunny Sunday in February!?
The imposing Hedingham Castle is visible from miles around, towering above the quaint village, the stone stark edifice both daunting and majestic.
Following the Norman invasion of England, the majority of the Anglo-Saxon lands were taken over. The lands of Hedingham, North-East Essex, England were given to Aubrey de Vere I by William the Conqueror in 1080 in recognition of the knight’s fierce valour and loyalty. The family were zealous crusaders! The original castle was built of timber in the traditional motte and bailey style however Aubrey de Vere II ordered this to be torn down. It was replaced in 1140 by the building of the remarkable Norman castle and as the family were extremely rich they could afford to face the whole building in stone which was unusual for the time! As one of the great Norman castles Hedingham Castle hosted many royal visitors including Henry VII, Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I (probably en route to Gosfield Hall, read more on my post here)!
The de Vere family became powerful and influential members of the royal court, many of its ancestors holding important positions within the royal circle, including that of Lord Chamberlain to the monarch. Furthermore, they provided vital military force in their own right and became ennobled when granted the title Earl of Oxford.
Hedingham Castle, a key military stronghold, is built on a hill which gave it an excellent defensive position. A deep moat runs around the castle and in Norman times the area would have been kept clear to ensure visibility of approaching enemies from miles away. As its defensive significance waned in the eighteenth-century trees were planted to create soft woodland witnessed today on the long moat banks carpeted by snowdrops in February and these are still popular in the 2020s.
The original point of entry onto the castle grounds would have been a wooden drawbridge however this was replaced in 1496 with a Tudor bridge. On the grounds just outside this brick bridge a new owner of the castle, Sir William Ashhurst (a banker and politician) ordered the building of the Queen Anne House in 1719 and this still exists and it overlooks the lakes and landscaped gardens. The house replaced the 1498 buildings which included barns, stalls, granaries and storehouses.
The large green expanse surrounding the castle is known as the tilting lawn and here the knights would practice their fighting skills as well as hold regular jousting events. Also, archery and other battle skills were honed and displayed here. Nowadays, throughout the summer, there are mock traditional jousting festivals replicating the activities of the medieval knights – the power of the horses and the ability of the ‘knights’ are truly awe-inspiring.
In the seventeenth century, the castle became superfluous as a defensive building and it was quickly falling into a state of disrepair. As a result in 1600 the 17th Earl of Oxford demanded that the majority of the castle be pulled down and what is left today is the main keep. This keep is one of the most impressive keeps in the country; another famous one is at the Tower of London.
The keep is neck-achingly high and standing below it one can barely see the top 37 metres / 110 feet above. The walls are incredibly thick and strong at nearly 4 metres / 12 feet wide. This was a castle and keep built to keep the enemy out and its nobles, knights and families safe!
On the lowest level of the castle were the dungeon and storage. A stone staircase from outside leads onto the ground floor of the castle and here, on the garrison floor, the soldiers would have been sequestered. The small slits of windows surrounding the room let in just enough light and were wide enough for archers to shoot out at approaching enemies but small enough to make sure that no missiles entered the keep.
A garderobe (primitive toilet) is housed in one corner of the garrison floor, and is mostly a seat with a long open drop to the outside!
The beautiful mysterious staircase runs within the walls up to the other levels of the keep. The original stone steps were replaced by brick in the fifteenth century and the next floor leads to the stunning banqueting hall.
The hall is one of the finest domestic interiors still fully intact. It is a splendid room and towering across its length is an awe-inspiring breathtaking arch. The arch is the largest existing Norman one in England at 8.5 metres / 28 feet wide and 6 metres /20 feet high. The room would have been the headquarters for the Earl of Oxford; here the Earl lived with his family and from here the castle and estate were administered. The walls would have been covered by rich tapestries and rugs. The vast space would have been kept warm by the giant fireplace with its distinctive elaborate double chevron patterns renowned in Norman times – carvings seen throughout the castle.
Compared to the rich and luxurious carvings and wall hangings, the furniture would have been simple, with trestle tables, benches and wooden chests while rushes covered the floor.
Medieval helmets!Goose or swan feathered quill in ink pot.
The diet of the time was based heavily on game such as deer and pheasant while the diners were entertained from the minstrel’s gallery above.
The ever-narrowing inner staircase leads to the minstrel’s gallery, a haunting corridor tunnelled inside the thick castle walls and running all around the banqueting hall. From here the travelling musicians, jesters and magicians would perform their craft, clearly visible from below.
The Minstrel’s Gallery
A typical medieval banquet menu!A explanation of Medieval Money!
The top level of the keep was the dormitory section of the castle and more simplistic in its decor and layout.
It is time to exit through the magnificent double chevron-carved arched double doors of the castle. These doors date from the 1870s and were originally from the Blue Boar, a local pub in the village.
The main double-door entrance onto the tilting lawn
After a memorable morning of exploration, one becomes fully immersed in the incredible history of Hedingham Castle. A castle which was twice successfully besieged for short periods, once by King John in 1216 and a year later by the future King Louis XV11. A castle whose owner, Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford, is strongly rumoured to be the true writer of Shakespeare’s work (if interested read more here). A castle filled with the aura of its extraordinary past.
The dovecote which was built 1720
Stepping out into the sunshine was that the sound of battle? The voices of medieval folk on the tilting lawns? With a head full of facts and figures, with imagination over-heating on stories from the past, a refreshing stroll of the grounds beckoned. A time to stop and admire the snowdrops, the beautiful gardens and the lakes. Near one lake stands a dovecote from 1720 whose 460 nest boxes supplied meat and eggs for the family.
A sense of scale to the castle – I’m waving hello!A breather after a fun time stepping back 900 years!
The twentieth century saw Hedingham Castle fall back into the fold of the de Vere family. Its new owners, the Lindsays, are part of the famous family through inheritance. Through their hard work, the castle and its grounds are once again part of the community through its open days of jousting, car shows and open-air theatre as well as being a popular place for school educational visits. Furthermore, it is a unique and memorable location for weddings!
‘More than Coffee’ by Lauren Scott is a beautiful and reflective celebration of life; a book of poems and prose that flows with ease between memories of the author’s life, of the six decades of a loving marriage of her parents and of her family, to present day hiking trails, between the wonder of nature and the seasons to the amusing encounter with spiders!
The pieces are imbued with warmth, love, light humour and sadness; overall togetherness. Life in all its facets is explored and ensures that the reader reflects on their own lives and those closest to them, reminding us of the treasures within even the most insignificant of items or events.
A late-comer to hiking and camping, Lauren captures the magic and enriching moments of being in the wonder of solitude in nature.
‘It’s about those quiet, nostalgic moments sitting on a smooth slab of granite, captivated by the sights and sounds of wilderness surroundings.’
The book begins with her first ever hike in her fifties and in ‘Silver Heirlooms’ she describes setting out her mother’s silverware which brings moving reflections on how this previously normal household cutlery is now filled with nostalgic significance and poignancy as her grief over the loss of her parents eases to help her move forward.
The power of nature is captured throughout and it is a privilege to join her on the trail, pausing to appreciate that ‘listening to the whispers/among the trees/our time here/is a gift.’ Just as Lauren Scott feels that the ‘tranquility embraces’ so the reader is enveloped in a heartwarming embrace.
The book fulfils the promise of being a ‘snapshot of memories’ and one of my favourites could easily be turned into a novel, I feel. ‘Ninety-seven candles’ is a beautifully penned piece about her father-in-law Wil and his extraordinary life. During his nigh hundred years of life, Wil has twice been joyously married yet endured two heartbreaking losses. However, his positive attitude and gentle humour still shine through.
A humour shared by her father, who when asked the secret to reaching his nineties, declared with aplomb, ‘the olive in the martini’.
Through her gifted writing, Lauren captures the fun first meeting with her husband; who knew selling a fridge could be so life-changing! On their first date, it was ‘as though we’ve danced together a million times before’. Lauren has a gift for seeing beyond the ordinary and in ‘Cake’ she weaves in descriptions of her bridal shower, her parents and children – the universal force of love and life is re-affirmed.
Since singing is part of Lauren’s being it is perhaps not surprising that the powerful and intense poem ‘Belonging’ is a love song to her husband and soulmate, Matt.
‘Do you trust me? Will you take my hand and let me lead the way to a place transcending the boundaries of our reality? Let us get lost in the tranquility – dancing to the majesty of the surroundings, feeling the rhythm vibrate through our bones. For as long as our hearts desire, this is our destination. For time is but a memory. Its existence leaves no trace on the path where we tread. There is only you, me, and the intensity of our belonging to each other.‘
‘The Phone Call’ especially resonated with me as a recent ‘empty-nester’; I related to the gems of long chats with children moved away, the love and pride as they make their way into the world, but the pain too. As Lauren’s son is soon to embark upon his path across the country he tries to reassure his parents and show them how this is a positive experience for them – a comment that had me laughing out loud and so typical! ‘Mom and Dad can reap the benefits of having the house to themselves.’
In ‘More than Coffee’ Lauren realises her dream to be ‘the narrator of my own stories’ and it is with gratitude, joy and chuckling that I could sit down, with a cuppa, and join in this wonderful, uplifting and absorbing collection; peace settling upon me. I only hope I will learn to collect my memories with equal clarity, wisdom and warmth, to reach a deeper understanding of life and its joys and tragedies. ‘More than Coffee’ is a true tonic for the soul and I cannot recommend this book highly enough!
Lauren writes poetry, memoir, and fiction short stories who lives in California with her husband of thirty-three years and their chocolate lab; they have two grown children. She has authored two collections of poetry: New Day, New Dreams (2013) and Finding a Balance (2015). Her latest book, More than Coffee: Memories in Verse and Prose was published in 2021. And in 2022, she contributed four poems to the anthology: Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships. Lauren writes about family, experiencing loss, finding joy in the smallest things, and nature from her many backpacking and camping adventures.
Parallel to her passion for writing is her love for reading. Whether it is a gripping thriller or a heartwarming romance, she enjoys exploring different worlds and meeting diverse characters, drawing similarities to reality that translate into her own writing. Her writing projects are sometimes serious – drawn from painful subjects and raw emotions – or they spotlight her silly side – pulled from humorous moments captured in photographs.
Lauren is inspired to write from her love of nature and the marvelous wild world that surrounds her: the smell of the woods, the sound of a babbling brook, and the chorus of birds singing. Recent backpacking trips with her husband along the California coast and Sierra Nevada mountains have stirred up thoughts to pen about love, lost friendship, family, and the possibility that anything can happen. Hikes along the Paper Mill Creek remind her that life is fragile. From trout hatchlings to swallowtail butterflies, Lauren marvels at how the world is interconnected and that every living thing matters. She hopes her readers will find a little nugget of delight, comfort, or understanding in her poetry and stories – some detail that resonates with them beyond her words.
Finally, Lauren Scott shares her beautiful poetry, vignettes on life, and fiction short stories on her engaging blog Baydreamer~ a thread of words from every stitch of life ~. Enjoy meeting her there and join Lauren for a cup of virtual coffee and chat.
I forgive you, dear sublime tricksters glimpsed amongst the autumnal taupe. With your summer sheen you try to deceive me as for a second I let down my seasonal guard.
For over an hour I’ve luxuriated with the warm glow of sunshine upon my face, eyes squinted against the glaring rays as I’ve wandered around the Hall gardens.
My eyes feasted upon the startling crimson maple in the distance, burnished as if alight; my vision lifted across to the golden hues of dancing grasses, above them russet oak leaves fluttering, twirling, released from the clasp of the branches, on their last flight of life.
All the time I’m fully aware of autumn. Yet here you are, at my feet, tucked neatly into the flower border, hiding beneath the bare roses. A sparkle of summer, your petals tinged with a love of light and life. Tugging at my memory of a bygone season.
I forgive you, con artist extraordinaire! With a sharp intake of breath I remain utterly still, coveting the treasure of summer, not wanting any sudden action to cause the precious petals to leave their anchor. Petals nigh free from blemishes of decay, petals bursting with gentle hues of pinks and the brilliance of white. On closer inspection though the ravages of autumn have started to touch them, the normal soft golden orb reduced to puckered sandy powdered puffballs.
I welcome your tenacity, your audacity. I salute your temerity. Thanking you for the gift of your deception, for returning summer to me on the cusp of winter.
How often do we happen to look but fail to see? Fail to take the time or effort to truly assimilate and absorb the life around us? Perhaps something is simply too far away?
A camera is ideal to focus one’s attention and as an amateur photographer a recent birthday present of a new camera reignited my passion for the craft.
It rarely leaves my side; accompanies me on walks, to the garden, around the house. I’m overjoyed to share ten of my favourite photos taken the previous week and hope you enjoy them and some of the quotations they inspired me to seek out! Each one has taught me to look afresh at the world, showing me a new perspective on life.
“So it is with blackberries. If you pull too hard, you may get the berry but you will lose the sweetness of it. On the other hand, if you leave it, it may be gone the next time you come by. Each person must find this point of equilibrium for himself.” Extract from Death of a Hornet and Other Cape Cod Essays by Robert Finch
“He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars.” Extract from Call of the Wild by Jack London
“How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do!“ Extract from The Swing by Robert Louis Stevenson
“His one sorrow was not solitude, it was that the other gulls refused to believe the glory of flight that awaited them; they refused to open their eyes and see.” Extract from Jonathan Livingstone Seagull by Richard Bach
“When you recognise the sacredness, the beauty, the incredible stillness and dignity in which a flower or a tree exists, you add something to the flower or the tree. Through your recognition, your awareness, nature comes to know itself. It comes to know its own beauty and sacredness through you.” Extract from Stillness Speaks by Eckhart Tolle
“Everything has beauty butnot everyone sees it.” by Confucius
The heron is in full flight alongside the canalboat, just like the one we saw on our first trip. Then it was so sunny and warm, now just drizzle and chilly. God, I wish you here.
Love you, Sheila xx
Dear Bob,
More downs today. Beth and Gary bickered non-stop through all three locks; remember those just before the Moorhen pub. You and I laughed our way through them, our playful giggles no doubt both a balm and irritation to fellow travellers. Much better than the rotten language and atmosphere permeating the deck and tow-path today.
Your one and only, Sheila xx
Hi Bob!
At last the sun and as promised I took out the painting set you bought for me. Thank you again! I think I’ve captured your likeness and spirit very well, although the colours smudged a smidgen. No, neither wine nor river water alas, rather tears. My eyes and my life still blurred, awash and adrift.
With all my love, Sheila xx
Bob,
You won’t believe it! I sold a sketch! I can just imagine your guffaw followed by your proud bear hug. The picture? A fair representation of the humpback bridge near Beasley lock. Oh, the tunnels we go through and this time no songs to echo inside them; our dear kind friends would be mortified if I broke out into ‘Three Little Maids’! That’s just between you and I!
Loving you always, Sheila xx
Dearest Bob, history buff,
You would have loved to wander around the ‘castle’ again as pictured on the front. Or as I see them, a heap of ruins, just stones. Last time I felt an ethereal presence. Do you remember? Now it all seems drab … dead. Oh dear, I fear I’m becoming a morose travelling companion. Three is such an awkward number.
Missing you, Sheila xx
Bob,
Laughter and smiles today! Ten locks successfully negotiated, without a sour word. Then pub lunch at the Keeper’s Inn! We all raised a glass for your birthday. Bother, I didn’t mean to cry then. Hate that you’re not here.
Lovingly yours, Sheila xx
My dear soulmate, husband, best friend, my Bob!
Home tomorrow! A bittersweet return. As the lone oak tree on the postcard, so am I — truly alone. Two months of crushing grief, loneliness, of missing you, our life together. Your spirit has been with me every day of the trip, it always will be. Though I’ll always treasure our time together, our memories, I must forge ahead with my own life.
RIP dearest Bob, our love will last into eternity. Sheila xx
The above piece was inspired by Writing Magazine’s exercise in which to write a story in seven postcards. All seven postcards to be from to the same person to the same recipient.
Annika Perry 