Skip to main content

Through the Woods to the Sea

Bugs and bad weather have resulted in a certain amount of cabin fever here at Hotel H, but the lovely month of May has arrived so it's time to get out and about.  


We live in a secluded wooded valley that slopes down to the sea and late this afternoon when the rain had eased, we followed the path through the woods ...




A purple haze of violets...




... and bluebells


A waterfall cascading into the stream










One bridge I'm not crossing!



The path changes from mud to sand and suddenly there's the sea.






A strange creature on the beach.








Then it's time to watch the waves before heading home.

Comments

Elizabeth Musgrave said…
We have everything but the sea! Looks wonderful. It makes me feel a bit wistful for the sea. Hope you and yours are all fine now.
1 May 2012 at 14:06
Jake T said…
Very nice blog. Enjoyed it!
Jake....
1 May 2012 at 14:09
Pondside said…
A path to the sea - it doesn't get much better than that.
I hope the bug has left you by now and that you can get out into the sunshine as much as you like.
I love the violets!
1 May 2012 at 17:21
frazzled said…
How lucky to live that close to the sea and in such beautiful surroundings!
HAH
2 May 2012 at 00:10
Frances said…
Chris, you've given me such a marvelous collection of natural images to take with me through my urban day!

Just walking through the woods, listening for birds, finding amidst all the shades of green some spritely little violets, then sensing the presence of bluebells, then... feeling sand underfoot and seeing the sky open up!

Wow! You and Tom have an amazingly beautiful location! xo
2 May 2012 at 06:06
Anonymous said…
That is so beautiful, Chris! Our bluebells are only just beginning to get going, it's lovely to see them out.

You live in a lovely part of the world. Inspirational!

Dreaming of violets. :)
2 May 2012 at 11:57
Fennie said…
Really beautiful, Chris. And I bet the wind will blow away any cabin fevers that may be lingering! But in case not and delirium sets in you might hear in the smugglers' cove of yours 'Ohh ahh me hearties! Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum and tales of three deckers wrecked on this very beach and Spanish doubloons thicker on the sand than shells. Tip me the Jolly Roger - ooh ahh!
2 May 2012 at 12:31
Reading Tea Leaves said…
Really lovely Chris. Reminds me why I would so love to live near the sea.

Jeanne
x
4 May 2012 at 10:46
Flowerpot said…
That's lovely Chris - happy sigh! x
8 May 2012 at 02:19
Chris Stovell said…
Thank you all for taking the time to respond. Sorry not to reply individually but it's been one of those weeks.
9 May 2012 at 04:08
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al...
22 comments
Read more

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’  It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been p...
11 comments
Read more

Since You've Been Gone

Well, Ma Mère, There have been so many times when I’ve gathered up all the little shiny moments I’ve collected during the day, ready to present to you in our evening phone call and then I remember all over again that you’re not there. But, Mum, so much has happened since you’ve gone - maybe you know, maybe you don’t - that I’ve decided to write to you instead.  A few days after you died, we sold our house! After all those months! We even joked about you rattling cages somewhere. At first, nothing happened and then suddenly everything happened at a breathless pace and the next thing I knew I found myself driving (yes, me, driving!) along the M4 to Bridgend and the Time Capsule House, the one you said you and Dad would have bought. I remarked, when we first viewed it that if it was meant for us, it would come to us. Over a year later, when it had been under offer twice, we moved in. Oh, Mum, you and Dad would have loved this house; it’s peak Seventies and the decor - the pampas ensu...
5 comments
Read more