Mid Winter

A Palm tree in our garden sillouetted against the sunset

The days are so short now that the event of Mid winter comes as some relief and we turn our faces towards the spring at last. I stopped just long enough from ferrying the young horses in for the night to take a snap of "the" sunset before continuing in our own "beat the clock" or beat the dusk which ever way you would like to see it! There is always competition between the three yearlings namely Magic and the two two year olds to be first in for the night. Last night was no exception and an exasperated Amie delivered a firm nip to her brother Magics bottom who launched himself forwards to the gap as if jet propelled and thus neatly jumped the cue. But it did give me time to take the photo of the sunset driven by that primitive instinct to celebrate the turning of the year. First I tried from our car park and then raced down to just outside of the courtyard gate for a better view of the sinking sun. Content it we continued to the Ednovean farm equivalent of the school run to collect the Brood mares waiting patiently in the dusk.

Yesterday i dragged a beautiful tree branch up stairs that I found on the lane brought down by the recent gale - a rugged piece of hawthorn bright with two types of lichen - I wedged it in a pot with pebbles and have decorated it with my extensive gold cherub collection they haven't had an outing for a few years but this year seems right for them. Id have preferred to position them against a plain wall so that the stark beauty f the branch could sing but had to settle for a corner of the Dining room where at least it will be seen as people climb the stairs a curious echo to the plump green tree in the hall.



Perranuthnoe village church with the backdrop of the sea

AT last the night fell and I took one last look around the stables momentarily mistaking Bodkin, this years foal, for his mother April in the dusk, he has grown so tall, their two heads framed in the doorway and in the next stable Dolly contentedly licking her manger, a sleek black thoroughbred now, her nose no longer fits between the stables bars to beg for polo mints, in the same way as it did as a small foal those three nearly four long yeas ago. We walked quietly back to the house together and glancing across Mounts Bay, Mousehole lights glowed across the Water - Mid Winter day just before Christmas and we shut the front door back to our tree and branch.