As spring continued the woods were awash with bluebells. We took our first bike ride as a family of four on two wheels. We zoomed through the woods, we had the time of our lives and did it all again the following Sunday. The little one rode up a steep hill, the older one couldn’t manage it, she cried, she didn’t feel like the older one she said. The little fleur felt her pain, she could have laughed but didn’t, she rode over dropped her bike and fell on the floor to make her sister laugh. It didn’t work so she spoke kind words instead, of how there are things she cant yet do that her sister can. The love between these two is so strong and the bond so tight. I am so proud of them both, I know they will always be there for one another.
The hedgerows and banks at the sides of the roads are a thing of beauty this time of year cowslips, dandelions and cow-parsley grow together in a wild mass of texture and colour. We often pull over to point out flowers and admire the beauty. Some may just see weeds, but we love these weeds with there wild twisting ways and their splash of beauty to just a normal road.
In April we often stop to forage the wild garlic growing, I hope the girls remember these moments when they grow old. We made a wild garlic pesto with our finds, they both enjoyed it. We took some jars to granny and friends, it was delicious and so easy to make. I chatted about my Great Granny making cowslip wine so many years ago, they marveled at the delicate flower, so rare in many areas of England now.
Our annual daffodil flower shoot happened, it was a cold and misty day, the field we pulled up to had friendly horses in it, we spent so long petting them and talking to them, we almost forgot what we were there to do. The flower girls enjoyed themselves, they love all animals.
We spent a cold spring spell walking many paths of our ancient ancestors, to far away stone circles on the wild moors. Again we took great pleasure in the beauty of the old stone Cornish walls and the flowers growing wild. The wind howled that Easter week and the mists came in the seas were strong and nearly swept us away on occasion. The mists that swirled from nowhere seemed to want to remind us of a time and land now often forgot. The children went with the mission, some days walking miles in terrible weather to find yet another stone circle. We made it more fun by hiding Easter Eggs and having impromptu hunts. We met strange folk and friendly folk, we chatted to farmers wives who set us off on the right track and let us park a tad closer on their land. Bluebell found a potato to her delight and brought it home. Every night the kids would jump in a hot bath and sip hot chocolate there little red hands slowly warming up. Winters and cold springs are harsh in Cornwall, but only a week later we had summer on our doorsteps.
As the sun started to shine again we found ourselves viewing a house, so small and so run down in a place so near to where we live and yet so far from the life we lead. A place reminiscent of my childhood holidays, sandy footpaths leading to the sea, salty winds and dramatic views. A house built as strong only as a holiday chalet, and the other houses surrounding it. i fell in love. I could see my girls running from the back door down the sandy path to the beach, I could hear them squeal and laugh as I hung out damp wet suits in my little yard. Alas, the buy wasn’t meant to be as much as I craved this little bolt hole to store my childhood memories, but we went back and we will again. I am not sharing this place with many as it will only be special to so few, not many would see its beauty, but I did. We climbed cliffs and played on a beach so small and tucked away if you blinked you would miss it. I took my best friend, she got it, her heart beats the same as mine, we spent a glorious afternoon there, neither of us would ever forget those few hours, they were special.
A week later a bit up the coastline the flower girls learn’t to skim stones, and rolled down sand banks… the flickerbook continues…