After the perfect cool sunshine, yesterday was a day of mists and dampness; we lit the fire after lunch and it warmed the old rooms all afternoon. Today is a mixture of the two, with misty distances, rare sunshine and a cool breeze. The sunshine has no warmth in it, as if it lacks confidence.
A ten-minute walk in the Mortimer Forest outside Ludlow. Giant fir trees, thick pine plantations, sighing birch woods. We collected half-a-bag of blackberries and a handful of kindling pine cones.
Behind the courtyard garden is Sally's paddock, part of the old garden patterns of these cottages; buried ponds, old apple trees laden year-round with mistletoe, and now producing apples. (Michael has the remains of a cider-apple orchard; the trees produce masses of apples - which taste of cider.) Between the courtyard wall and the paddock is a wild space three feet wide and fifty feet long. It is defined by our wall and a rotting fence. Over the years - as such spaces are - it has been used for dumping all manner of useless things; slates, old fencing, rolls of wire, unwanted tubes and boxes, even a canoe. But it is untouched, and so nature has reclaimed it. Everything is covered in thick mosses and lichens. The space has produced nettles and thick ferns, tiny pink flowers, grasses. It is ideal for insects. Above all, two ash trees have grown there and are now about thirty feet tall; smooth trunks, a stately shape, handfulls of ash keys.
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