A Walk After Tea

One thing about being away from home for nine days out of eleven is that there is a lot to catch up on. So it's been all go on the domestic front. Olly hasn't minded all the healthy neglect. He's been re-acquainting himself with all of his toys. And watching Despicable Me. Quite a lot.

 But after tea I felt the need to get out and stretch my legs. The early evening sun beckoned me, Pops and  Honey up the road to Burthallan Lane, and from there to Clodgy Point. I love this walk, as it's completely brilliant for little boys who need to run off their energies before bedtime. Or anytime in fact. Marc and I have paraded all our boys along this route through the years, and it never fails to hit the spot.

Our road. We live bottom left. Alf's friend used to call it
 The White House,  which sounds much grander than it actually is!

Olly is into Batman at the moment. And cutlasses. So he jumped, spoke in a growly voice and brandished his weapon at any unsuspecting passer by. Where on earth this boy gets his energy from I have no idea. He literally bounds and bounces his way through each and every day. He is always up for adventure, and his enthusiasm is just wonderful. However he did nearly fall into the path of an oncomming car. I cannot always anticipate his every quick as lightening moves. The driver gesticulated. I returned the compliment. I think I've bought a bit of Bristol back home with me.

There are three enviable houses that we pass on our walk. To me anyway. One is just up the road from us. Sam used to call it The Witches' House, and I guess it does have that Brother's Grimm look about it. I've been lucky enough to have a poke about inside, which only makes me covet it more, being Arts and Craft in style with a beautiful living room fireplace complete with Bernard Leach tiles.

The next house is at the beginning of Burthallan Lane. It must have stood alone once upon a time, but other houses have sprung up around it over the years. It's a wonderful cottage, with the most exquisite garden. I particularly love their low box hedging, and herbs growing out of the Cornish stone wall.

Finally is a new house that stands in the most enviable position, overlooking the whole of St Ives Bay and beyond. Olly was a baby when this build started, and it was only completed last year. Money was definitely not an issue when it came to this house, but today I noticed how the owners are starting to soften it with thoughtful planting schemes.

These houses always satisfy my nosey-parker tendencies.

 Along the lane and down the footpath towards Clodgy Point are the hedgerows. We picked and ate our first Blackberries, and Olly broke off a dried plant stem to make yet another weapon. He thrust it in and out of the bushes, scattering seeds from the dried out pods of Campion and others. I wonder if Mother Nature ever banked upon little boys to be effective agents of dispersal? The hedgerows show the turning of the seasons better than any where else I know. I may be awaiting my Dahlia show in the garden, but it's here that I am assured an end to summer is approaching. There are still lovely things to see though, and I promised myself that I would gather an armful of those dried stems on our return. I know Marc will be thrilled at the prospect of another twiggy display at home.

 And then before we knew it, we had reached Clodgy Point. It's an outcrop that stretches it's tip into the sea. There are several of them heading down the coast towards Land's End. They are know as the 'Seven Sisters', and on a good day you can see them all from here. The view is magnificent. A panorama that takes in the coast that lies north of St Ives, maybe as far as Chapel Porth or St Agnes (I'll have to find out). And way down South towards the Pendeen and beyond. I want to sit and stare. Olly wants to play hide and seek. Honey wants me to throw her a stick. Two out of three's not bad.

We do watch a man and his little girl fly a kite. She is about the same age as Pops, and her laughter is infectious. It's a lovely scene. I 'hallooo' a few people that I know. One is out dog walking, the other is puff puffing up the hill in her running gear. I feel rather guilty that I have been so slothful of late, but then I remind myself that come September I will have the time to devote to rather more self involved practices. So to celebrate that thought, I offer a piece of fudge to Pops and have one myself.

It's time to turn back the way we came. I chivy Pops along by telling him the story of Hansel and Gretl on the way. We only stop to look at the horses in the fields, and the swallows darting and skimming within. The sun is starting to dip, and I'm surprised to notice that we've been out for over two hours. I think that our tea must have gone down by now. It's a less whirly gig walk home, and I piggy back Olly some of the way. Once home, it's straight into pyjamas for both of us. A glass of milk, a clean of the teeth and a bedtime story. Lights out, and Olly is in the land of nod in minutes.

I artfully arrange my twigs, and pour myself a glass of wine.

Happy days.


Leanne xx

(all pics were taken with my phone, so not the best quality. And a few squiffy horizons to boot!)

Rolling Waves

 

On Sunday, on the spur of the moment, we went to Portreath. We went to meet family and celebrate an Uncle's birthday. Sun, sea and a barbecue. What could be better than that? The sun was glorious. There was a squally breeze, which helped to whip up the incoming tide. The boys and their cousins wasted no time. They ran to meet the foamy surf and dared the waves. They splashed and jumped and dunked themselves over and over again. 

They only left the water for their tea. Burgers and sausages. Fairy cakes and jelly babies. They sat enveloped in towels, shivering slightly. Olly's lips a rather fetching shade of blue. I wish I had thought to bring Alfie's bathing shorts. He wanted to go in the sea for the first time in a year. No matter. He waded in fully clothed, and dried out in minutes. Once full they rushed the waves once more. Olly was even more gun ho this time, and went under. He was in no danger in the shallows, but I held my breath. Up he came coughing and spluttering. He shook those wonderful wet curls and dived back into the waves. 

They don't come along very often, these magical impromptu days. This one didn't start until late afternoon. It carried on until late. It was possibly one of the loveliest days of the year so far. And a total antidote to the @%^$£ week that preceded it. I wish our trip to Portreath could be bottled. So that when the gloom descends, it can be opened up as a reminder to everyone (but mainly me) that our life here is awesome. Our trials are intense moments. But the good stuff far outweighs the bad.

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I am blessed. I really am. Lovely people visiting my blog, and leaving words of support and encouragement. One thing about me is that I find it nigh on impossible to leave it at the door. Self restraint? I wish I had some. I often wish that I could separate parts of my life from this blog. It's a hotch potch of stuff, often written on a whim. The odd planned post thrown in for good measure. It's not particularly sophisticated that's for sure. Honest? Yes. Quite often bored of the sound of my own voice? Yes. Hoping that you forgive my indulgence and ridiculousness? Yes!

Leanne xx