Inspiration

I realise that last week's blog was insanely long. Each place in Copenhagen could have been a post on its own. This week, we can catch our breath.  Back on familiar ground.

I arrived in Dorset via the Cotwolds and a lot of train changes on Friday afternoon. Saturday was bright and fair, an amazing sort of day, bright blue skies, fluffy white clouds, hot sunshine.  We went to Bridport Market early and came back after breakfast for a walk.

The copper beech is breaking, such a good moment.
We had our friend Penny over for tea. Charlie of course baked a cake. ONE DAY HE WILL REVEAL HIS RECIPE TO THE WORLD.
But not yet....

We had a drink with Jim and Nic at their house, drinking in the beautiful view and the sunshine, and went home to the sight and sound of the lambs in the fields.
The garden was magical at the golden hour. Every year Charlie says it's not as good as last year and every year I check old photos and say that I humbly think it's better.

Sunday, cool and misty.  Actually, perfect May mist.
We walked through the Valley of Stones to find the bluebell hills, now in bloom. Was there once a woodland here? They are everywhere, all over the grazed chalk hill, which goes blue at this time of year. It is a magical moment, especially viewed from a distance and then you realise what you're seeing as you get closer.
Around the Valley of Stones, filled with ancient deposits left by glaciers, and then moved and shaped by early man.
Violets everywhere on the hill, and cowslips.
The lie of the land is something that I will never tire of.  Each curve, intersecting with the next. Is there any more beautiful valley in Dorset?
Charlie has put his surplus tomato plants in the church porch. £1 a pot for the church box.
Later that day, sunshine, as we went to Chilcombe for supper with Kate. Heaven.
Early the next morning, I woke up at dawn, the air was filled with the sound of birds and a thick sea mist rolling in. Insanely beautiful.
We had lunch with Caddy, who had not one, but two swarms of bees in her garden.  A swarm in May, is worth a load of hay, as the saying goes, proving that in the 17th century you would much rather have a load of hay than a silver spoon (which is the value of a swarm in June).
Look at Caddy's blossom.

It's going to be a good year for apples.