“This is a place to sit to hear the soft droning of bees, the songs of blackbird and chiffchaff, the croak of a raven and the bop of a pheasant.”
A place to survey the bluebells and primroses that carpet the lawn . The only other sound, the breeze playing through the trees. It’s as if time has gone back 100 years and as I sit outside the cottage door I imagine the view is unchanged. Peace is this place, sitting under the pear tree that reaches up to the thatched roof. A stoat runs across the lawn.
A gravel path, a blue wooden gate and stone flags by the house. In the distance , across the peaceful valley, the trees are coming in to leaf; the fields are bright with new growth.
All this and, inside, vases have been filled with bluebells and a cake awaits us in a tin.
- Mrs Sweeney, April 2021