Friday, 5 July 2013

Returning relaxed, revived and raring to go.

What a difference a week away makes to how we view life. We have been back from Devon a week now and, as usual, The Rector@6 had to hit the ground running...and so did I, as I am now helping with some Andalusian horses (adding to the heavy horses and the Dutch friesians who I visit). Suddenly life seems exciting again. We have had a week together in the familiar surroundings of our PO days (pre ordination), the weather was kind to us. We travelled from South coast to North coast and spent a day riding on the bit between. We went to see a film (this is now a luxury as we are not near a cinema in Dorset). We watched Summer in February, which is about an Edwardian artist colony and the erratic artist, Sir Alfred Munnings. It was romantic, moody, with stirring music and a stunning setting on the Cornish coast - pure escapism. And we stopped talking church!
The dining room

It took several days to unwind and to discover that life was not totally centred around six parishes and their parishioners. Our three hundred year old cottage did what it has always done since we have lived here - it soothed and relaxed us and reminded us of who we are. The much loved garden, where I know almost every plant, is overgrown after months of neglect but the roses and wild flowers are stunning. Some evenings, the garden was framed with a huge expanse of inky blue night sky, scattered with handfuls of stars. This is the place to see shooting stars.

The Rector in high places
We were supposed to be doing repairs on the house - and we did do some - but the fine weather seduced us and we walked the coastal footpaths and paddled in the chilly sea. We had the beaches to ourselves (most of the time) and there is no better place to be reminded of how insignificant we are, than under the towering rocky cliffs. It was time to just stand and stare and breathe deeply. When we first moved to Devon, these were the secret beaches - the ones that you had to climb down a long, overgrown path to, or walk the fisherman's (smuggler's) path to find. Now there are footpath signs and even road signs sending people to the nearest parking places. I know it's good to share but sometimes......I would prefer not to. These are the places that need to be chanced upon or passed on by word of mouth. That way they keep their magic and do not succumb to the health and safety brigade and TV chef's latest, greatest authentic dining experience. But to tempt you to step out and chance upon these places yourself, I will share some of  the photos - then you must get the map out and find them for yourselves.                                                          
One path down to the beach
and another secret path..

view across to a well known island and hotel


  1. Peace, perfect peace. I too prefer a beach to be relatively naked of people.

  2. ..and preferably not naked! That's the trouble with secret spots ..the naturists always seem to get there first.

  3. Wow, what amazing, uncrowded scenery and I'm glad the weather was kind to you. It sounds like keeping the house is the best thing you could have done - the perfect escape from the pressure cooker that is parish ministry.

  4. Lovely pictures and a delightful story to go with them. I'm glad you took the break.

    Blessings and Bear hugs!
    Bears Noting
    Life in the Urban Forest (poetry)