February has arrived. I make no apology for using a new photograph of an old subject. My favourite old, green door in St Ives.
A little worse for wear, due to some building work but in all the right ways looking perfect as a portal from January to February.
If January is the endurance event of Winter then February is the beginning of a downhill race to Spring. And today it started very well with sunshine and another best seat in the house for our lunch.
We are on a little winter adventure. But first we stopped at a cafe that we used to visit many years ago. Just a cafe in an old stable, nothing fanciful.
The last time we came we were turned away. The cozy stable cafe had been discovered as a ‘location’ for a Television Series. Beyond Paradise.
Turned away because of filming it is many years since we have gone back. The sign predates the filming by possibly 50 years. Do not enter signs in gaudy neon were the modern itteration.
Today however it was on our way to the winter adventure. The old stable has glammed up quite a bit.
The Stable. Port Eliot
A good breakfast and coffee set us on the road to the far end of Cornwall.
St Ives
Walking the streets of a seaside town on a winter night is such a lovely thing to do. Warm pubs have space,unimaginable in the Summer. The one we chose, The Sloop has been welcoming people since 1312. 724 years of offering beer and spirits to whoever walks in the door. A building that has just had one job. Barrels and bottles, the unchanging tools of the trade. Inn Keeper the centuries old job title. How many jobs can say that after 724 years of time. My lifetime seems tiny and inconsequential in the face of such continuous history.
Exactly 11 years ago Hugo and his dog cousin Barnaby were both a year old and we were in Cornwall for a birthday weekend. Hugo was an urban dog and for Barnaby these fields were his everyday playground. It was permitted that they run free in these fields. What happened next was one of those moments in life when even recollecting this moment makes me feel guilty and uncomfortable. Out of nowhere a herd of deer appeared and the two naughty dogs chased them for fifteen minutes, nothing we could do would persuade the dogs to stop.
Eventually the deer decided that the chase was no longer for them and elegantly jumped a fence back into the enclosure that was supposed to have contained them. Eventually two exhausted dogs returned to us.
Months later we were back in London but on a day out in Kent. The same thing happened but with another dog friend, Monty. Almost the exact same scenario, a National Trust property in an area where dogs could run free. Another herd of deer somehow appeared. Hugo gave chase like the expert hunter he believed himself to be with a much larger labrador friend learning very quickly. They scattered family picnics and we , their hapless owners looked on in horror while hiding their leads in our pockets so nobody knew they were ours. The deer of Kent were as wise as their Cornish counterparts and leapt back into their enclosure.
Once again two exhausted dogs returned to their owners. Hard to pretend they weren’t ours at that point. We all sat down to attempt a picnic and the dogs calmy explored a nearby wooded area. A small commotion and the labrador returned with a rotting deer leg in his mouth. Hugo proudly trotting alongside. I think they were pretending they had actually caught a deer, when it had clearly died of natural causes some time ago. Another picnic ruined!
11 years have passed with no more deer encounters. This is a good thing.
Morning para surfers at St Michael’s Mount. Not a bad way to start a week, I was wrapped up warm with hot chocolate in hand.Penzance is being very good to me today. Sunshine and warm enough to go without a coat once the sun was properly up.
We have made tracks for the far Southwest. To the warmest place in England on this particular weekend. Part pleasure and part work commitment. A journey to Penzance and West Cornwall is always a pleasure in January. Even more of a pleasure because we caught a Starling murmeration.
A compressed week is a funny thing. An art exhibition over a long weekend, with an extra day to help take it down, has pushed all my normal domestic admin into two days this week. By Friday I should be all caught up but yesterday a funny thing happened. Chores, errands etc were somehow completed with an hour to spare. So I took the dogs to a favourite garden and just took in the view while we waited for the appointment time for their annual vet check.
A few years ago I spent just over a month living in this house and garden with an old labrador while her parents were taking a long break in Europe. I had an outdoor studio to paint in with a view to make a trainspotter weak.
At the time I was preparing for an exhibition that required abstracts so the location was immaterial. Which seems like a crime now. But just looking at the view is only half the story. The sounds of this valley are the thing. As trains approach the viaduct they are coming out of a tunnel, so there is a feel of a train approaching, then the sounds. These are both fascinating sensations, no matter how often they are experienced. There is also a powerful sense of wanderlust, knowing that this train is a link to the rest of the world. In less than five minutes the train will cross the Tamar on the Albert Bridge, designed by Brunel. Taking people away from Cornwall and on to wider horizons.
When the train emerges onto the viaduct it is almost an anti-climax. With my smartphone in hand, and photos and sketches of this viaduct taken or drawn over many years. I had a happy hour or so, digitally tinkering. Stitching photos and sketches together to try to express the energy felt as a train emerges from the tunnel and starts to run across this tiny valley.
Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?
I could quote something really meaningful here, but to my shame, my often thought of quote is rather passive-aggressive. Rarely said aloud but thought of through gritted teeth while smiling.
” You are mistaking my tolerance for indifference”
These 7 words have a whole scale of thoughts behind them. 90% of the time the response is of no consequence outside of my thoughts, just me thinking that I am a bit annoyed or really annoyed but nothing really earth shattering . But the 10% can be an unexpected fierce retort or worse the icy chill of some final invisible line being crossed.
I hear you thinking what relevance to the picture of Kingsand Clock tower is my admission of passive-aggresive thoughts.
Well, when the sun came out on Sunday we were sat at the bottom of the clock tower basking in delicious sunlight. Coffees in hand and calm happy dogs resting on the beach. The beach was big, as the tide was out, and there were very few people about. I was pondering that our exact position on a calm and beautiful day was sometimes under 40 foot waves as the worst of winter storms hit this coastal village. Images and news article below.
My pondering and basking were interrupted by 4 people and a large dog choosing to sit right next to us. They were not basking and pondering sort of people. Noisy, competitive, faffers without a scintilla of calm about them. With a whole beach to choose why sit next to the only other people sitting peacefully pondering?
I had about twenty minutes of tolerance in me. My coffee was done, and my pondering about massive waves was unnerving me slightly. Time to remove my intolerant self from the location with one of those statements that may or may not have been heard.
” Shall we move on?”
“This is about as relaxed as my bum after a hot curry”
Oh dear!
Proof of how empty the beach was.
A clear case of me hiding a case of grumpiness in some beautiful surroundings. In a world of so many wonderful, positive quotes the few negative ones I hold onto are easier to recall.
Moving on, have you ever seen a more gorgeous village hall.
I can’t say Storm Kathleen bothered us much . Just more wind and rain, no flying dustbins or lost umbrellas. She did however create this moody sunset from Down Thomas. If you look into the gloom you can just about see Plymouth Sound.
Enough of rain! I thought I would share some dry pictures.
In summer months a charity runs drystone walling classes nearby. There is enormous skill in creating these walls which are a feature of rural Devon and Cornwall.
Wet, from rain these sections have some eye-challenging colour combinations.
In the summer months, these walls still look impressive but they are dusty with red mud from the artisans hands, as the rocks are laid over an embankment of compacted soil. Just my lucky day to catch them in a rare sunny moment while they were still wet. The moment was brief
The raw materials waiting for summer and craftspeople to return.
For the header image I overlaid Storm Kathleen on the drystone wall.
Just over half way through my day I have no idea what I might be doing this evening. Apart from delivering art to a gallery my day has been a series of unscheduled events. Trying to photograph this apple core was more of a challenge than you might think. Over the weekend this apple sculpture made of apples has artistically diminished to an apple core. The fragrance in the sunny courtyard is the fragrance of early autumn.
Delivering art to this particular gallery is an enhanced pleasure on a day like today. But the welcome of apples and sunshine made it extra special.
By a great piece of design the poster for the exhibition mirrors the colours of the apples.
What a lovely feeling to just drop some art off and have no responsibility for the curating or organisation. However familiar I am with these surroundings the architecture never fails to charm me.
But today I was surprised by a piece of abstract planting in one of the courtyards. Almost Sci-fi with these purple Aeonium.
So what am I up to this evening, beyond some early bobbing I still have no idea. But if anything fascinating crops up perhaps I will mention it tomorrow. But returning to daytime activities , my fellow artist Debs did get a good shot of the apple core.
This blog is 3 years late and could have been another year in the Procrastination Pile. I had arranged to attend a Daffodil Festival with a friend in 2020. The festival was cancelled in the early weeks of Covid Restrictions and this is the first time it has been held since. The extra year of procrastination could easily have been added to, by my poor choice of clothes yesterday.
As you can see from the header picture things were a bit wet! I had had a perfectly tolerable dog walk without a coat and in Birkenstocks while at home in the morning. The further I drove into the Tamar Valley the wetter it got.
The lanes were running with brown rainwater pouring off the fields. I phoned my friend and suggested a different outing. A snug pub with warm food and no drips.
Her response was to bring me warm socks and wellies and feed me a scone and a cup of coffee.
And with that we were off! Some daffodil varieties were being shown indoors. Definitely an easier environment to appreciate them, were it not for steamed up glasses and rivulets of cold water tracking down my neck.
Daffodils and Pewter in the Great Hall.
I started recording the names of the Daffodils but honestly I think I am going to get into a pickle with that, so these beauties are enigmatically anonymous.
Outside nothing had improved despite making the absolute most of sitting with a scone and coffee. We hadn’t even managed to put the world right.
The outside locations were not overrun with visitors, the cafe on the other hand was heaving with wet humans. There is a point in every adventure when enough is enough, even for a woman in borrowed, vivid, socks and wellies. I love these socks!
Below is an experiment, I don’t know if this QR code will work,but if you can,give it a try.
Readers, it works! The audio clip Seagulls and Sunrise is lovely and tells the history of Daffodils and the Tamar Valley.
theoldmortuary.design 