‘Autumn Owl’ by my clever sister Caitlin – a one-off linocut printed on best ‘Somerset’ paper – inspired by ‘my’ miraculous Tawny Owl…– as a special gift created for my birthday…

complete with left-behind feather.

Directions to a heavenly place…

Go round a crescent…

through a star…

over a bridge…

arrive at Tintern Abbey – in Wales.

Since Archie moved to Bath over four years ago to start university – I have enjoyed getting to know his locality.  As the dove flies, Tintern is not far from Bath, even though it is abroad in Wales – and a long way up from Dartmoor!  Along with Glastonbury – Tintern has become a firm favourite of ours.  

At home – I have a beautiful water-colour painting of Tintern Abbey by ‘forgotten’ Birmingham artist, Walter James West…

I imagine him sitting on the other side of the expansive River Wye, quietly painting the view that now hangs on my parlour wall. His evocative painting dates to the early 1900’s and he has brilliantly captured the tranquil atmosphere of this timeless, magical and holy place – set in the magnificent Monmouthshire Wye Valley.

I simply look up at Walter James West’s dreamy water-colour – and I’m transported to Tintern Abbey without passing through the hurly-burly and confusion of modern-day – in particular the hellish Almondsbury Interchange! Tintern Abbey itself, remains largely unchanged from his century-old vision. 

Tintern Abbey by Walter James West…

Largely unchanged.

and a small gallery of modern-day images from my library…

Teazles at Tintern.

Autumn’s decay.  Blackberries gone-over at Tintern.

Brother Bee.

Monumental windows…

inspiring walls…

and symbolic portals; Vesica Piscis at Tintern.

And even a spiral stairwell; refuge for a white dove of peace.

Homeward bound.  Two earthly souvenirs picked up from Tintern’s hallowed ground.

Tintern Abbey ‘today’.

White Dove flies up towards The Light. Tintern Abbey

Detail.

Often when I’m out walking, my path crosses with other wanderers; not people but creatures in peril – that need a helping hand. I follow the example of Saint Francis; if he came across ‘Brother Worm’ on the path – he would gently lift it to one side – to safety.  As well as worms – and a grasshopper recently – I have rescued countless newts across the road; it must have been a bumper year for them…

A ‘handful’ of wriggling newts returning to safer ground…29th. September 2015

A tiny newt with a ‘very wide’ road to cross.  29th. September 2015

Alas too late for poor Toad ‘stopped’ in his tracks…12th. Sepetember 2015

but not for Jeremy Fisher…2nd. October 2015

Released into the meadow from inside my reflective vest.

And even a cold little Honey Bee on the pavement at Tintern yesterday…3rd. October 2015.

 * * * * * * * * * * *

My most challenging rescue mission – a jackdaw that was dangling from scaffold, caught-up in string – the more it flapped and struggled the tighter the string became.  Hooded by my scarf – it lay perfectly still while I cut the tight string away…

Now free again – once I ‘could’ let go!  I’d love a Corvid!

In memory of my one and only dog – a bigger than average Scottish Terrier called, Ebenezer – a real character who died 21 years ago today on the 30th. September 1994. He was an excellent walking companion – and over his lifetime we walked miles and miles and miles together…  

He loved to visit Dartmoor too – and being very hairy – he enjoyed nothing better than cooling-off in the clear Dartmoor streams and rivers. (Having dug out this olde photograph – I notice I still wear my hair the same – only now I’m greyer – much greyer!)  

Happy days.

Together on top of the world.   Dartmoor 1989.

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

A. E. Houseman

The high Devon hedgerows have been freshly cut and are noticeably quieter after a summer full of chirruping…

Grasshopper – image can be enlarged by clicking on it.  See its translucent beauty and soft-green colour – and those amazing feelers.

This is a ‘one-legged’ grasshopper that I ‘rescued’ off the road – while out walking earlier this evening – 29th. September 2015. With gentle persuasion he climbed onto a broad Hazel leaf – to be transported to relative safety under the root system of a Rhododendron where there were plenty of dark chambers to scuttle into before nightfall. Although, I’m not sure that removing a grasshopper that can’t hop anymore from the road – was the kindest thing?

Today, Sunday 27th September has been a leisurely day – a gentle walk with Tom and my sister – Caitlin, and her two whippets – Mimi and Luna.

Mimi and Luna

We ambled around Great Torrington Commons for a good couple of hours – lots of secret paths and open enclosures – and a vivid green pond – and memorial benches aplenty to sit awhile and bask in the glorious sunshine.  Followed by a customary Hocking’s ice-cream on the Old Bowling Green – by the now apocalyptic town of Trumpton; a few charred stumps are all that remain!

Later – I aim to go for a night-walk in solitude to see the blood moon lunar eclipse – so today’s walk was a gentle stroll in red-iness for an active night out!  Meanwhile here are my autumnal snapshots from earlier – including a spider weaving and a mulberry ripening – both in our garden today – and Old Father Time on his weather-vane casting a magical shadow of his own on our red house…

If we are all doomed following tonight’s supermoon lunar eclipse – it sure has been a bloody lovely day to end on – and it’s not over either…because there is ‘Cider with Rosie’ on Auntie Beeb tonight – luckily scheduled before the eclipse!

Enjoy…

Torrington Commons – over the cemetery wall.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An unforgettable night – 28th. September 2015.  I attempted to snap a couple of pictures of the lunar eclipse – but alas only a small fuzzy smudge with a faint ruddy glow lost in the blackness ‘developed’.  My faithful old digital camera is basic by today’s standard – and although it takes a decent daytime image – at night-time it’s best left inside my pocket.  No matter – I have enjoyed seeing all the wonderful photographs of the lunar eclipse – and super blood moon through the media; absolutely brilliant images.

I shall never forget my experience of being alone with just an owl hooting, a fox barking beneath a darkening Moon; definitely blood-stirring stuff.

Imagine how thrilled I was to go into work yesterday (rather tired!) – and find a stranger had donated a glass fishing float (I work in a recycling centre).  It was a bit dusty – but once removed from its string-net and held to the light it magically revealed its true colour; a beautiful blood-red glass orb complete with swirls.  Of course I paid for it – and duly brought it home; a serendipitous souvenir from the cosmos!

Kindness of strangers.  Thank you!

It is Sunday today – and the morning after the night before – and I’m still reeling.  I didn’t dream it then – here it is in ‘black and white’ recorded on my blog. I witnessed a tawny owl come back to life.

Morning Glory – or Convolvulus – captured on my afternoon walk yesterday – before the owl incident.  In the language of flowers it symbolises resurrection.

This is me – about to release a tawny owl that I’d hit with my car earlier tonight – 5th. September 2015 – unfortunately, I just couldn’t avoid it. Tom didn’t even see it – as it happened so fast – but was caused to ‘jump out of his skin’ as I let out an involuntary screech in unison with the tyres at the moment of impact. The owl was ‘sitting’ in the road on the brow of a hill – and all I remember seeing is two huge, round eyes caught in my headlights before they disappeared under my car bonnet. I tried to stop – and skidded hard – then I heard ‘clunk’ – I had killed an owl.  A smell of hot, burning rubber came up through the vents in the car from the tyres – meanwhile Heart’s ‘Club Classics’ had instantly become irritating – I switched the radio off.   I was devastated; all my life I have been mad about owls – (long before my love affair with ravens began) – and now I had killed one. It wasn’t safe either to stop  – as I had just gone over the brow of the hill.  I turned around as quick as was possible and went back for the owl – I had to know that it was dead – and not suffering – and to remove its body from the main road. It was lying on the exact spot where I had hit it – completely lifeless as expected.  Luckily no other cars had followed behind otherwise – the owl would have been struck again and most likely flattened.  I quickly scooped up the weightless mangle of feathers – whose wings looked contorted and broken – what had I done? Tom shifted into the back seat – and I placed the floppy owl on a green refuse sack – to protect the seat. It was too dark to see whether it was bleeding but there was nothing visible on my hands – and I had remarked that I thought I’d felt a flicker of life but it was probably just nerves twitching?  

About a mile from home – I heard a rustle from the plastic sack beside me – I could see out the corner of my left eye that the owl was miraculously sitting up!!! I exclaimed – “IT’S ALIVE – THE OWL’S ALIVE!” – and Tom laughed in excited anticipation of it flapping around my car while we were still on the move!  By the time we got home and I’d parked-up in the garage – the owl had revived enough to hop around my car – and flap and extend its wings and seemingly turn its head 360 degrees!!! Miraculously nothing appeared broken – and there was no blood either. I don’t know how it survived – other than it must have been simply knocked-out on the undercarriage of my car – and crucially there were no cars behind to ‘finish it off’. Maybe – I had almost stopped at the time of impact but that bit is blurred – I just remember its huge eyes – skidding – and that dull thud…

I ‘let it be’ for a short while to recoup – left relatively safe inside my car while we unpacked our shopping – and fetched some gloves!

It was such a euphoric feeling to finally hold the tawny owl in my gauntleted hands and feel it writhe – no longer floppy and lifeless but feisty and wild. With no hands free – Tom took a couple snapshots and then it was time to let go…

Together, we watched it silently swoop off into the darkness of our neighbour’s sheltered garden – away from the street-lights and road – just as another tawny owl hooted from a nearby tree. I’m so thankful that I instinctively did the right thing and went back for it…and even more overjoyed – that along with a few ‘lucky’ white streaks that I’ll clean up tomorrow – I found one precious ‘calling card’ dropped on the front seat of my car.

Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! – and good night from me!

A Heaven sent day .  Trinity of gable ends at St Eustachius’ Parish Church – Tavistock

Another of my favourite poems is ‘Day of These Days’ by Laurie Lee –

Such a morning it is when love
leans through geranium windows
and calls with a cockerel’s tongue.

When red-haired girls scamper like roses
over the rain-green grass,
and the sun drips honey.

When hedgerows grow venerable,
berries dry black as blood,
and holes suck in their bees.

Such a morning it is when mice
run whispering from the church,
dragging dropped ears of harvest.

When the partridge draws back his spring
and shoots like a buzzing arrow
over grained and mahogany fields.

When no table is bare,
and no breast dry,
and the tramp feeds of ribs of rabbit.

Such a day it is when time
piles up the hills like pumpkins,
and the streams run golden.

When all men smell good,
and the cheeks of girls
are as baked bread to the mouth.

As bread and beanflowers
the touch of their lips,
and their white teeth sweeter than cucumbers.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dartmoor on the 1st of September 2015 – had that “golden” feel of late Summer – that feeling when you know the year has turned yet the “sun drips honey”…everything was clear and sweet. 

Tavistock seemed serenely calm – even sleepy, in contrast to the normal hustle and bustle around antiques day – free-parking right outside the the market was a complete breeze too! Inside was quiet also – and I wasn’t tempted by anything there – although I did buy two items in the charity shops – just a couple of pounds spent which was another bonus!

After an hour around town – we headed back to the car passing under Tavistock’s own great son, Sir Francis Drake – he was resplendent with the sun gleaming from his finery. Just then – four raven messengers circled high-over Tavistock – and despite the noise of traffic around Guildhall Square – I heard their unmistakable proclamation; Dartmoor was calling us…

Definitely not rooks; I know a raven by its shape and call anywhere.  Raven fly-past – right below left knee! You can enlarge this image by clicking on it.

As if drawn by a magnet – we returned to a favourite area around Sheepstor – including an overdue visit to the idyllic Church of St. Leonard.  On the way – we enjoyed our picnic in ‘Raven Wood’ – followed possibly, just possibly mind – by our last ice-cream cornet of the season – topped with a lashing of clotted cream! (available from Willy’s ice-cream van at Burrator)  After refreshments – we met up with a gaggle; another group of feathered-friends who reside at the reservoir…

The geese of Burrator Reservoir came over to say ‘Hello’ – although the old gander gave us his usual ‘friendly’ greeting – and hissed!

Big Bolshy Goosey Gander of Burrator!

Odd one in! Coy Canada Goose…

it’s clearly a ‘Goosey Affair! Maybe some unusual goslings next Spring to look forward to?

On-wards to Sheepstor village – and a chat with another acquaintance of ours…the keeper at the gate.

At St. Leonard’s, the church warden was busy mowing – and the air was redolent with the sweet smell of cut grass – and lawn mower…

Tom watched the warden at work. Meanwhile, I knelt in the uncut grass and paid my respects to ethereal ‘Mary Light’ – whose beautifully cut headstone dates to 1766. I just love her name – and her ever-present angel who always smiles back at me…

What’s in a name?  I’d love to know who she was…thought-provoking headstone in Sheepstor Churchyard.

Such a ‘timeless’ joy to enter enlightened St. Leonard’s…

Yay! And the swallows were in too – happily chattering away above our heads…

and there were simple flowers in the porch.  Hydrangeas and “berries dry black as blood”…

Inside St. Leonard’s – the stained glass windows were all aglow.  I took this photograph of ‘St. Stephanus’ several years ago – just as the sun came beating through his heart. Ever since – he has had a special place in my heart – and home. I keep ‘St. Stephanus’ in an Oxford Frame on my parlour wall – where I feel his warmth daily. (Detail from the Sarawak Window, St. Leonard’s Church – Sheepstor.)

After coming out of the church – we headed for our favourite bench in the far corner of the graveyard – and rested awhile under the Beech beside the historical ‘Brookes’ family plot…their motto on the railings reads ‘Dum Spiro Spero’ – ‘While I breathe, I hope.’  A beautiful place to just be and do ‘nothing’…

Then we headed back through ‘Raven Wood’ – where ‘Mary Light’ came out to play…

and I happened upon a treasure; an emerald heart of moss growing naturally on the woodland ‘path’.

We gathered a few sticks – enough to make a faggot for the fire at home…

Then from the comfort of our car seats – we enjoyed the remains of our thermos – and the day; watching the day pull-in beside the high road to-and-from Burrator.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A couple of golden keepsakes at home…

For Mary Light – who ever she was? Hand embroidered memento mori – made by Leslie Ann. (commissioned piece from – https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/609East)

Original watercolour of Sheepstor by William Henry Dyer. I love the detail of the rooks around St. Leonard’s tower. W.H. Dyer lived most of his life over the moor in Babbacombe near Torquay in Devon – and his paintings are mostly of Devon and especially Dartmoor – they date to the early 1900s.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To read more about Sheepstor go to –http://www.legendarydartmoor.co.uk/sheepstor_church.htm

Posted Tuesday – 1st. September 2015.  Dedicated to my Dad – Michael.

Alas, the school summer holiday is almost ended – and Tom is nearly back at school – for his last year. I remember back to my own school days when six weeks seemed like forever at the start – and then suddenly it’s over.  I feel like that again with Tom – I can’t believe how fast time has gone-on and the realisation that this year’s school summer holiday is officially our last – because next year he leaves school.  This school summer holiday – we have enjoyed some lovely days out – and some wonderful walks together…

About a week ago – we went for an evening walk – around the big block where we live – roughly six miles.  Passing the fisheries – I noticed a dragonfly lying on the road – not dead but clearly in the last stages of another metamorphosis.  I picked it up and laid it to rest on my reflective vest that was draped over my hand.  What a magnificent creature – I don’t think I have ever held a dragonfly on my hand before. We continued our walk – with the dragonfly now firmly gripped onto the material of the vest – the barbs on its legs made sure it wasn’t going anywhere.  I watched as its body pulsated on my hand – and with a slight flicker of its wings and an arch of its tail – I hoped that it would revive and fly away…

It didn’t.  In the dimsy light – I carried it all the way round our six mile walk – and by the time we got home the last vestiges of daylight had vanished and the dragonfly had faded too – it died on the back of my draped hand – still clinging to my reflective vest.  I carried it into our home and showed it to my father who was still awake – he is ninety-one and all his life he has loved ponds and dragonflies.

Finally – I laid the dragonfly to rest beneath Dad’s Mulberry tree in the garden – and as I did – I couldn’t help think how the flash of a dragonfly’s tail on a hot summer’s day is as fast as life itself; blink and you miss it. As Tom gets ready to return to school for his final year – I realise how his childhood days have flown by…

Here are some pictures that I took of the dragonfly silhouetted against a lamp.  I’m glad that this powerful creature with ‘fragile’ fairy-like wings spent its dying moments on the back of my hand and that I was able to rescue it – from being crushed into the road by a passing car. Nothing this beautiful should ever be crushed.

Today – we are off to the antiques market at Tavistock – followed by a picnic and a walk on Dartmoor – our last outing – of our last summer holiday; and there isn’t a better place where we could spend it together.  It’s a beautiful, bright sunny day too.  Keep you posted…

Time and tide – and inconsiderate drivers – wait for no man!

Again, absolutely ‘nothing about Dartmoor’ whatsoever, except that a yearning to be far from the madding crowd has never seemed more appealing after an impromptu visit to Lyme Regis in Dorset! Why oh why did we listen to non-driver Tom; it was his suggestion – and we couldn’t be asked at 2:30 in the afternoon to come up with an alternative suggestion! (We’d also forgotten that it was a bank holiday weekend!!!)

The journey to Lyme Regis was straightforward and uncomplicated – Archie, our chauffeur for the afternoon, drove like a dream in his ‘great white shark’ – until we edged over the border into Dorset and the nightmare began…

I hope this post serves as a warning to anyone that may be foolish enough to have the same idea to visit the iconic Cobb on a bank holiday weekend; just DON’T!

All was relatively calm for the first couple of hours – after Archie luckily snuck-in to a parking space right down on the sea front. I had suggested that we park further up and walk down to the Cobb – but Archie being a resident Bathonian was unfazed by the volume of traffic – steep, bendy hills, parked cars and jaywalking, daydreaming pedestrians; the concept ‘park and ride’ went unheeded…

With just two pound coins readily available – we paid for our ‘God-given’ parking space and strolled off in the direction of the Cobb – enjoying some very nice ice-creams along the way – mine was a Rum and Raisin. I took some snapshots to try and capture the colours and atmosphere of Lyme Regis – and did a ‘Meryl Streep’ – unaware that I had a piece of raisin between my front teeth. Or that the sea breeze had blown up my fisherman’s smock top – making me look like I was expecting my third at 52!!

After taking-in the Cobb – we gently ambled off in the direction of the church – where Tom honed-in on a fish and chip shop…he’s a fish and chip connoisseur – and always hungry!   Our two hours parking was nearly up – so I suggested that while I visited the “boring” church – they put some more parking on the car and we’d meet up outside – ready for fish and chips.  I spent an idyllic half-hour roaming around the quiet churchyard taking more photos..…in the blissful ignorance that ‘the boys’ had decided to give up our premium parking space and had driven to the desired fish and chip shop – in the hope that a space would become available in the public car park of about ten spaces right outside…and so the nightmare began!!!

Luckily, I caught them on the road after they’d done a couple of laps of Lyme Regis – and I hopped into the back seat of the car. Finally, resigned to failure to get into the tiniest car park on possibly the busiest weekend of the year – Archie decided that we would go back to the original carpark…

All I can say is that as a quiet backseat driver – the atmosphere inside the car was as ‘colourful’ as Lyme Regis itself on a bank holiday weekend – only bluer!

The original carpark was now at gridlock point – and fish and chips in Lyme Regis had begun to look like the impossible dream! At 6:30 pm – lengthy queues had formed outside every fish and chip shop; everyone else was hungry too.  Just to add to the mayhem – the constant din of a public address system had been turned up a notch or two and intrusive pop music was blaring out around the cove – I doubt even the gregarious seagulls could hear themselves think! Whose bright spark idea was that? As much as I love James Bay, Snow Patrol etc etc – what’s wrong with listening to the natural sounds of the seaside when you are at the seaside; children playing, seagulls calling, waves lapping?!!!

Anyway, after burning his clutch on a particularly steep section of road, after giving-way to an inconsiderate road-hog coming down – Archie took the decision to exit Lyme Regis altogether – in preference of a fish and chip supper in neighbouring Charmouth.  Commenting only – that he wouldn’t “Give a f**k if Lyme Regis slipped into the sea.” – in the heat of the moment of course!  (He did Geography at uni – and went on a field trip to the area to study coastal erosion!)  In Bath – where he is on home territory, it is the etiquette to give way to those coming up really steep inclines – ‘when in Rome’ and all that – but alas not in Lyme Regis especially on a bank holiday weekend when it is full of sightseeing, daydreaming visitors – in cars and on foot!!! As his mother – I only prayed that despite the tight driving conditions and unforgiving flint walls – ‘Jaws’ would emerge unscratched; fish and chips really didn’t matter!

Despite the blue air at times – I have to confess the boy done good – and the fish and chip supper at Charmouth was EXCELLENT!

(I didn’t buy my customary souvenir fridge magnet either – instead I’m going to make my own; a reminder not to go to Lyme Regis on a bank holiday weekend EVER ever again!)

Dartmoor, I can’t wait…

Horas non numero nisi serenas – pertinent detail on a Lyme Regis sundial. (I count only the hours that are serene.)