Category Archives: weekending

June 22, 2015

weekending :: a Midsummer garden

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Over the Midsummer weekend, there is magic abroad. On the longest day, the very start of the summer, we visited the secret garden at Cerney House. The soft warm air was heavy with the scent of roses and lavender, and the gentle breeze carried the audible buzzing of happy bees. Enclosed by old brick walls, brimming with gorgeous blooms, pretty vistas and hidden nooks, we found the archetypal English garden. It’s such a sweet, charming spot, with rambling roses, pots of bright geraniums and a greenhouse of fading elegance. Walking amongst beds overflowing with romantic colour, I felt as if I were stepping into a poem, or perhaps a Midsummer dream.

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February 23, 2015

weekending :: unreal city

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On Saturday, a trip back to our old home city of Bristol led us to Fujiko Nakaya’s ethereal Fog Bridge. Already slightly obsessed with fog (as my Instagram feed often testifies), I was completely entranced, and found myself with a favourite section of The Wasteland running eerily through my head…

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February 15, 2015

weekending :: another snowdrop Sunday

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To ease us through February, the last weeks of winter, we seek out the delicate snowdrops, a whisper that speaks of the return of spring. Packing up some leftover Bakewell Hearts, we wander the woods and paths of the garden, the snowdrops’ drooping white heads bobbing gently as we pass, like an elfin curtsey.

Looking back, I see that we did precisely the same last year. The photographs that I have taken on each occasion are the same, and yet, in tiny ways also different. Within those minute differences are contained the passage of our years.

February 8, 2015

weekending :: the winter beach

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The murmur of the waves and the calling of the gulls. The sand beneath my feet and the wind tangling my hair. Salt on my lips and pebbles between my fingers: I’ve always been a beach girl, happiest beside the shore. I love the beach in the summertime, when we spend as much time as we can by the sea, but there’s something truly special about the beach in winter.

This weekend, a return to my childhood seaside haunts was the perfect tonic after weeks of chill grey days. Too cold to bathe in the sea, we bathed instead in the glorious light which had that magical quality found only at the intersection of sea and sky. The boys’ hair was aglow, the waves glittered and danced. The mirrored sand glassily reflected jagged breakwaters, bright beach huts and the leggy stilts of the pier.

The children dug for treasures in the sand; chased across the expanse of beach; waded in the shallows and built towers of pebbles. We inhaled the saline air and gazed at the sparkling sea. Returning home, we brought a little of the winter beach back with us, not just in remnants of sand or handfuls of shells, but in a sense of elemental wellness.

{Last year’s trip to the beach in winter.}