Harvest song

It’s been a village weekend. Autumn is settling over the valley.

On Friday, Charlie was teaching a flower course at the Parsonage, with our friends Bridget and Henrietta, of the Land Gardeners. I got down late on Thursday evening.  Friday morning dawned bright and clear. We had an early walk together.

But then I was off up to North Dorset, to Chettle, and the magical house we are working on there.  The day glowed.

Saturday drifted by in a haze – a delicious, long lunch with Jasper and Oisin over at Bettiscombe. We got back in the dark and I don’t think we’ve been to bed earlier all this year.

On Sunday, we had our Harvest Festival in the church and village hall; a service, followed by a Harvest supper.  The afternoon was bathed in hot, clear, autumnal sunshine that felt, briefly, like high summer.

On Saturday, Charlie and a team had decorated the church, which was looking beautiful. I took Mavis for an afternoon walk, that she hadn’t had in the morning.

We were back just in time for church.

Bread judging on the altar, after the service. Frances Hatch, our wonderful vicar’s wife, declared all loaves to be winners. It was a perfect evening.
Very soon I will be doing a bit of fundraising on the blog for the church roof. I’ve mentioned it before. I hope you don’t mind!

A different view of the Parsonage:

Stephen Batty, our vicar, and Frances – using the new ‘Vicar’s ramp’ – to get into the village hall. Last year Stephen was diagnosed with MND.

The bring and share supper was amazing. I suspect you can guess who decorated the tables. 

Conversation, wine and good humour flowed long into the evening, as our little village celebrated, with gratitude, another year of harvest; as it doubtless has for hundreds of years in this church, and in this place; and I feel certain that people here will be doing so for hundreds of years to come.

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