A Morning in the Kitchen

These are the results of my morning spent baking (for the freezer as well as supper tonight):

1 cheesy loaf
2 pizzas
Ratatouille topping for pizza and freezer
Pan vegetable soup
1 blackberry and apple Crumble
2 apple crumbles
1 pear crumble

It makes more sense to have the oven on to cook half a dozen things than just one . . .

Spot the Dipper!

Click on photo to enlarge


I am bread making and pizza making today, and taking photos as I do so, and hopefully there will be a record of this on here later on.

Meanwhile, spring is very reluctantly showing a brave face - trees greening up, bluebells starting to flower, but it still feels more like March than nearly May! The Swallows and Housemartins have finally arrived, and our little Collared Dove has arrived in the garden, but minus his/her mate. I don't know if they mate for life, but the remaining one looks so forlorn.

When I was down by the river the other evening, I was watching our pair of Dippers, who are in residence all year round. The hen Dipper was making overtures towards the male, who kept flying past her. She was dipping up and down on a rock, waggling her tail and the minute he got close, frantically flapping her wings in a "Look at ME" gesture. He had spotted me on the lane, and was more bothered about staying alive than getting a mate, and she was getting progressively more frantic! In the end I had to walk on and leave them in peace for their nuptuals!

Basket Making Course

I have had a great day out today, learning the skill of Basket Making. Or rather, trying to do it, having fun, and needing another lesson to improve on what I learned! Here is the base made and the uprights in place.

My friend Nanny working on her basket. Nanny's husband is the Manager for Lluest Horse and Pony Trust http://www.lluesthorseandponytrust.org.uk/

We were fortunate that one of the Trustees and a friend of hers, who had both travelled from Gloucestershire, were Basket Making experts and shared their knowledge with us. The money raised by this course has gone towards the upkeep of the horses and ponies and it is planned that there will be future craft courses too. Whooppee!

This young lady (Karen I think is is) soon got the hang of things.

Mine with the sides loosely held in place. This willow ring kept slipping, so I ended up with a far more generously-proportioned basket than anyone else!

This is Nanny's stylish basket (got the Champers on chill yet Nanny?)

And this is my effort, decidedly on the wonk! It is big enough to hold my sewing bits and bobs for when I sit down of an evening, so I shan't complain. I hope there will be a follow-up course so I can improve next time.

Goldy's block

Here's the swop patchwork block I have been making recently - this time it's Goldy's and her choice was a camping theme. I hope she likes it!

She is saying, having dug him in the ribs, "Can you hear something?" Double click to enlarge it anyway.

I know where I'm going . . .

Sorry - I was talking about this on Nancy's blog and suddenly felt the need to share it with blogland. Does anyone else recognize this folk song? I learned it at school and used to sing a version of it as a lullaby to my children when they were tiny:


I know where I'm goin'
and I know who's goin' with me
I know who I love
and my dear knows who I'll marry.

I have stockings of silk
and shoes of bright green leather
Combs to buckle my hair
and a ring for every finger

O' feather beds are soft
and painted rooms are bonnie
But I would give them all
for my handsome winsome Johnny

Some say that he's poor,
but I say that he's bonnie
Fairest of them all
is my handsome winsome Johnny.

I "think" it also had links to a lovely American horse book (the Magnificent Barb by Dana Farella) I had as a child. I'm sure there was an extract of this song in it.

Blaenavon and Stack Square - part 2

(Click on photos to enlarge)




I took so many photos on Wednesday that I could almost illustrate a book with them! It was an interesting site to walk around, and although the social history shown by the cottage interiors was what really took my interest, having read a few of Alexander Cordell's wonderful novels, the industrial history was equally fascinating. Of course, much has been demolished over the years. The dressed stone which once faced all that remains of the blast furnaces was taken to build a church in Blaenavon.



The illustration below gives an idea of how busy and sprawling the site was in its heyday. Stack Square has the most amazing chimney in the centre of it which probably blocked out a lot of natural light. The smoking stacks to the left were the Calcining kilns, where the lumps of raw iron ore were roasted to remove sulphur, moisture and mud. The workers - regardless of age - worked 12 hour shifts - and took the night shift every other week, which meant a 24 hour shift when there was a changeover. This even for children of 7 or 8. The CADW booklet which I bought, mentions an Irish family (the McCarthys), who worked there. The father, Timothy, was a "filler" in 1841, and had two sons helping him, Tim and Tom, who were supposedly 14 and 10 (on official papers) but were probably just 9 and 7 years old. They all worked the same hours . . . poor little mites. The younger had a hernia, and had to wear a home-made truss.


Looking across to the 'mynydd' and the terraced row of miner's cottages. Just out of sight is "Big Pit", a mine which is now a working museum and destination for many a school outing.

Now Forget-me-nots grow in memory of all the people who once slaved here.

Below are the foundry and cast house, still in a good state of repair.


The enormous balance tower dominates the site today. It was an early form of "renewable energy" working, as it did, with the weight of water on one side raising wagons of raw material to the tops of the furnaces, in perpetual motion. It was built in 1839.



This is Engine Row, which formed one side of Stack Square. These cottages faced outwards and have permanently furnished interiors to show how they may have looked in 1790, and then in 1841.

This is the cottage as it may have looked in 1790, and is meant to illustrate the dwelling of an experienced iron worker, who had moved from Shropshire (Ironbridge). The colour of the room is from red ochre pigment (which was used for 'raddling' sheep - hark back to Thomas Hardy here and the Reddleman Diggory Venn in 'Return of the Native'). On the table is a boiled leg of mutton, a jug of caper sauce and a relish of samphire.

A ladder-back chair keeps company with the steens (glazed bowls on the floor) and other earthenware pots and jugs, which were the everyday ware at this time. A few 'cheap' glasses are on the top shelf.


The dresser, with its 'chargers' from Ewenny pottery, pewter plates for dining from and more earthenware jugs and dishes.



This rather splendid quilt decorates a 4 post bed with curtains to keep out the draughts, and which was crammed into a tiny room off the kitchen. Out of sight is a small rocking cradle at the bottom of the bed.
Next door, in the 1841 cottage, the McCarthy family from Co. Cork are now living - 4 adults, 4 children and a baby in the 1841 census returns. Their dresser was more utalitarian. Some of the goods are clearly second hand. The dresser is an Irish one from Co. Clare.


It is washday. The method used is to soak the clothes in a 'buck-basket' and soaked with lye (this is made by water dripping through wood ash). Only cold water was used, the dirt being beaten from the clothes with bats against washboards in tubs. The only soap was made by mixing lye with tallow fat (old candle stubs were often used - there was no waste). After rinsing the clothes were wrung out and hung out to dry. In this cottage, the washing 'lines' were literally just that - pieces of rope hung from beam to beam.

The pantry has rushlight holders (rush lights were made at home), cheap pottery and tinware. There is a sack of replica potatoes - of a variety called Lumpers, popular in Ireland before the dreadful famine, and which were bluish - just like the sorts which are shown in modern Kitchen Garden magazines today! What goes round, comes round, as they say).

The main bedroom with the baby's cradle beside it. The quilt is made of blanket pieces and cloth strips (this particular one has some authentic dirt on it!)

Here is where the children would have slept - a feather mattress and a woven rush pallet on the floor with blankets for bedclothes. I don't doubt a few bed bugs kept them company back in those days too!

Finally, I had a walk around the town of Blaenavon today, and visited the Heritage Museum, which was very impressive. Here is a steep row of pre 1900 terraced houses.

With many thanks to the CADW booklets about the cottage interiors and the Ironworks.

Show and Tell Friday over at Kelli's

It's Friday again, and time for another lovely Show & Tell over at Kelli's, http://kellishouse.blogspot.com/

where she has some beautiful things on show today - and so have LOTS of other folks. Do check them out.



My Show & Tell is rather obvious! Last night I finally finished the crocheted blanket I began a fortnight ago tomorrow, which is when I first learned properly how to crochet. I am SO thrilled with it and love the way it turned out. The brightest blue is some wool my mum had bought to knit herself a jumper with before she had her Stroke. I'm sure she would be glad to see it being put to good use. Crochet is SO addictive, but by last night it has gotten so big that it took forever to do a "round" and I was glad to finish it. The chair is an old cut-down hoop-back chair - they did such things to "modernize" them. . . We bought it at auction many years ago now. You can see Trixie's back too - that dog gets everywhere!

Blaenavon and Stack Square - part 1

Yesterday I had to unexpectedly take my son to Cardiff for the University Open Day, so I took advantage of being in the general area, and as I am still reading Alexander Cordell's novels, I took myself up through Pontypool to check out Blaenavon, a World Heritage site for its remaining industrial landscape - Big Pit and the site of one of the early and very important ironworks. Stack square is part of the ironworks complex, and some of you may recognize it as where the recent "Coalhouse" programme was filmed. American visitors to my blog may like to visit http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/coalhouse/
for the background to this programme.


Stack Square as it is today. You'd never know it was so close to reality, from the tv programme!

The interiors have been left as they were for the tv programme - the kitchen.

Mam and da didn't have much room - or privacy. Just about enough room for a bed and to squeeze past into the childrens' bedroom.

One of the kitchens in the other cottages.

You could just walk in and light the range . . .

Pay It Forward

My dear friend Nancy, over at http://morthanenough.wordpress.com/2008/04/page/2/
has been hosting a PIF over on her blog. I have been fortunate enough to have been chosen to receive a beautiful hand-made gift from her. In return I have promised that:

“I will send a handmade gift to 3 people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this PIF exchange. I can’t say what that gift will be yet as planning it is half the fun, and you may not receive it in a flash… but I promise you it will arrive! The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog.”

So I am inviting 3 of my readers and friends to participate in this PIF. It will be lovely to see who reads my blog, rather than just having a number count each day. I will put your names in a hat and get an unbiased person (probably my son), to draw out three recipients.

In return, all you have to do is post a PAY IT FORWARD invitation on your blogs and be prepared to send out 3 handmade gifts to your first 3 commenters. I look forward to seeing who participates!

Well, it looks like I won't be killed in the rush anyway. So I'll make it the first three names, if we get that far. One down, two to go . . .

The PIF is now closed. Pixiedust, I shall start work on your gift this week, if you could pm me on Creative Living with your address in due course please.

What a shame no-one else entered.

This is one of my favourite recipes, and I always make a double batch - one to eat now, and one to freeze. It is scrummy.


Weigh the dry ingredients.

I find it easier to weigh the butter, syrup etc in the pan (less mess), just weigh the empty pan first then add the ingredients.

Peel, core and chop the apples, cook to a pulp with a little water and a spoonful of sugar, and leave to cool.

I had run out of Demerara sugar this time, so I used Muscavado instead. Granulated is fine if that's all you have.

This is all a double mix of ingredients and I was generous with the apples too!

APPLE GINGERBREAD WITH CINNAMON ICING

½ lb cooking apples

3oz Demerara sugar

¼ lb golden syrup

3 oz butter

6 oz S-R flour

1 tsp ground ginger

½ tsp ground cloves

1 egg

Peel and slice apples, and put in a pan with 1 dessertspoonful sugar and just sufficient water to keep them from burning. Stew gently until tender. Mash up and leave to get cold. Put the golden syrup in a pan with the butter, and the remainder of the sugar; dissolve gently, then leave to cool.

Sift the flour into a basin with the ground ginger and ground cloves. Whisk up the egg, add the dissolved syrup and fat etc and whisk together; then add to the flour. Mix well, stir in the apple pulp and beat all together. Turn into a well-greased oblong tin. Bake in a moderate oven, about ½ hour. When cooked, let stand for a little before turning out of tin. The icing is optional.

CINNAMON ICING

6 oz icing sugar

2 – 3 dessertspoonfuls water

1 level teaspoonful ground cinnamon

Rub sugar through a sieve and mix with the ground cinnamon. Then stir in sufficient moderately hot water to make a thick coating consistency. Spread on top of gingerbread and leave to set.

Gwyddno Garanhir and The Sunken Land of Cantre'r Gwealod

This is as near as I can get for the appropriate picture, as this is the Cardiganshire coast just below Aberystwyth. Click to enlarge.


Translated into English, this means the Lowland Hundred (though my son insists it literally means "bottom town!" . . . ) I know of it through Welsh legends - it was the land which was beyond the Cardiganshire coast which is now beneath the waves. This legend is connected with Gwyddno Garanhir (Gwyddno Long-Shanks or Crane-Legs), who is supposedly the ancestor of the family who built on the site of our Welsh farmhouse. Their original "Great Hall" either lies beneath the present house, or quite possibly along the line of our driveway, as we have found some enormous boulders (one about the size of our dustbin) still in situ. Here they entertained their guests, including a Bardic poet, Lewis Glyn Cothi.

Gwyddno Garanhir was apparently king of this land, which was protected from the encroaching sea by a dyke called Sarn Badrig (St Patrick's causeway). Unfortunately, one of the princes who was in charge of the sea defences, was known as a drunkard and through his negligence the sea came in through the open floodgates. With my archaeology hat on, I've always wondered whether this wasn't an ancient memory from the Mesolithic, when the glaciers melted and sea-levels rose - rather like the world-wide ancestral memories of the Great Flood. There are apparently signs of natural pebble ridges along the coastline further north in the Barmouth area, and also remains of a fossil forest at Borth. The legend has it that in times of great danger, the bells of the sunken churches of Cantre'r Gwaelod will ring out beneath the waves.

Gwyddno's son Elffin ap Gwyddno was the foster-father of the legendary Welsh poet Taliesin, and to read his story you will have to Google him for the moment, though I shall try and write a piece on him later in the week. Taliesin flourished around 534 - 599 and also has tentative links to "King Arthur" although these links stem from much later Medieval writings.

Gosh, if only I could step into the past . . .

Arthur - as in King, and Excalibur

I went to an excellent lecture this afternoon, given by T M Charles-Edwards, an Oxford Professor. It was about the Welsh Arthur. That is - a Welsh princeling called Arthur - and one who was probably embroidered into the legendary King Arthur story. In fact, he could be one of several Welsh princelings of that name. It was a wonderful talk and I realized how little I knew about Welsh Saints, the Mabinogion - Welsh legends which appeared in The White Book of Rhydderch, c. 1350 and the Red Book of Hergest (1382 - 1410) and the connections with Irish legends and mythology. So now my brain is spinning with 100 white cattle with red ears - which was apparently an exchange demanded by the Welsh Arthur at one point, knowing they were "other wordly" and exotic - and the romances of Chretien de Troyes and references to places in Wales where this Arthur was connected. These were Cardigan Castle in West Wales, Caerleon in East Wales, and then Carlisle (up on the Scottish border) which was also in Wales, which must have dated back to the time of the Strathclyde British, when what we now know of as Cumbria and indeed right up to Glasgow, was part of this area.

Dinefwr Castle (above) was also mentioned, and they have white Park cattle there to this day, and to think of legends and all sorts happening on my doorstep is mind-blowing! So is the thought that these legends were in part collected by Lady Charlotte Guest and if the name rings a bell, it's because her husband was one of the Merthyr Ironmasters . . .

Which reminds me, how the people who built the house I live in (earliest written records date back to 1486, but we know they were living here in the 12th C, though not in this house, just on this site) claimed to be descended from Gwyddno Garanhir, who has his own history, and I shall tell you about it tomorrow, for he is part of legend too, and connected to Taliesin.

Travelling

(Click on photos to enlarge)

I've done an awful lot of driving in the past week. First of all down to Dorset for the Forum meet-up last weekend. Then I'd only been back a day when I had to return our middle daughter to her University "oop North". We managed to get some photos of the countryside as we were driving along - you will forgive any which are a bit blurred. The scenery is amazing, and one of these years my husband and I will get that holiday in the Lake District we've always promised ourselves. It was only ever a stopping-off point when we were driving up to Scotland on holiday. Anyway - enjoy the views.

First mid-Wales:





As you can see above, the weather was a little threatening on occasion!


A couple of hours further on - looking across to the fells of what used to be called Westmoreland. Then it all got lumped into "Cumbria".

Slightly blurred view, ditto!

A stretch of the drystone walls which proliferate up here. It is good to see that they are largely maintained. When you think of the man hours which they took to build - and there are 100s of miles of them.

Landscape on the top of the fells.

It's wild up here - raining sheets in the distance.

A general view.

I liked the "crankle" in this wall . . . Perhaps there had been a tree there in the past which they built around.

Show and Tell Friday over at Kelli's

This is a block I originally made for a charity quilt on a forum, but that never came to fruition from lack of member interest. I invested heavily in time on this, probably about 30 hours' sewing overall, as it is hand embroidered, and now it is going to be the centrepiece of a wallhanging for my home. The Creative Living forum I also belong to here in the UK has a block swop in progress, and I chose to have an applique challenge - View from a Cottage Window - for mine, so I have several to add to the wallhanging.

The blue vase is one I inherited from my late m-in-law. The embroidered Hollyhocks are amongst my favourite Cottage Garden flowers. The hill in the background is one near Bridport in Dorset, and I believe the pine trees were planted on the top to give a landmark to shipping.


This is a picture (originally a book illustration I think) of a Water Mill which reminds me very much of Sturminster Mill in Dorset, where I was last weekend (compare with Monday's posting, which has photos of it). I'm not sure if it is Stur. Mill, as there isn't a door where I know a door to be, but in every other way it is the same and evokes happy memories of when I first learned to make bread and used to buy my bread flour at the Mill. The frame is beautiful too - oak - and probably an Edwardian frame, so about 100 years old now.

Dorset

(Click on photos to enlarge).

A few photos will have to suffice today, as I'm off travelling again, taking my middle daughter back to Uni up North - it's about a 6 1/2 hour journey . . .

Here are some photos of beautiful Dorset to keep you going until my return.

A view across Dorset from the top of Bulbarrow Hill - looking towards the Dorset Gap.


View from the top of Bulbarrow Hill - Hardy's "Vale of the little dairies" - the Blackmore Vale.


A pretty thatched cottage in the village where we stayed.

Threatening weather across the Dorset fields.

Another view of the Deer Park, where the young deer were leaping and cavorting like lambs.

The weir at Sturminster Mill.

The bridge cross the Stour, at Sturminster Mill.

Granny Square

(Double click to enlarge)


This is the crochet Granny Square I started on Saturday. I bought more wool today and have got quite carried away with it - gosh, but it's addictive! I am incredibly pleased with myself - I have wanted to learn to crochet for many years now.

Taking a deep breath . . .

(Click on photos to enlarge)

Bluebells and Windflowers near Holt Wood.

I took along some china and lamps and bits and bobs to sell.

Lunchtime!

There was some wonderful baking done.

This is Sturminster Newton Mill, not far away from where we were. When we lived in Dorset, we would visit here regularly and buy the bread-making flour. When Thomas Hardy took his young bride here, they could have seen this from the windows of the villa they rented, across the water-meadows.
The bridge at the back of the Mill, crossing the River Stour. The "Swallows" poem I included on an early posting was writing of this river.

I am as pleased as a dog with two tails, as I have learned how to crochet a Granny square. In fact, the few rounds I did on Saturday have now turned into a square of about 15", and I am on my third colour. I can whip round it now, and spent all the car journey today, and the time I was waiting for my Hospital appt. today, crocheting frantically. I'll post a picture later on. I will even confess to going into the craft shop to buy more wool in a matching weight (a chunky double knit) so I could carry on with it. No stopping me now!

It was a busy weekend, with a lovely pub meal and non-stop chatting on the Friday. Then we adjourned to the Village Hall the next day, and had two tables absolutely groaning with home-made cakes, biscuits and buns, and a cold lunch. There was much tea-drinking, and cake-eating, even more chatting, and everyone very industrious with tapestry, sock knitting, or crochet, and a couple of us learned totally new skills, which was great. We had an indoor BBQ in the evening, as the weather was less than clement, and then I saw an old Dorset friend of mine yesterday morning and gave her some books and DVDs I'd borrowed, before the long journey home. I finally got in at teatime.

I am off again tomorrow, this time up North delivering my middle daughter to University, so I shall be away for two days.

Back from my travels

(Click to enlarge)

The Deer Park at King's Stag:

Glastonbury Tor in Somerset:


I'm back from Dorset, but have a busy morning as I'm off to the Hospital to see a specialist about an eye problem I have (possible blocked tear-duct).

Just a couple of photos to keep you going until I get back and write a proper blog entry.

Leave of absence

I am away for three days now, down in Dorset, but services will resume as normal on Monday, probably with a report of our shennanigans this weekend (Forum meet-up!) Back soon.

Song of the Earth

(Click on photos to enlarge)





Yesterday was the second part of my birthday celebrations. I have been reading Alexander Cordell's wonderful novels recently, which tell of the Industrial Revolution here in Wales. If you have never read any of his novels, look them out. His "Rape of the Fair Country" is a masterpiece of lyrical writing and a cracking good story too. That is set in Merthyr Tydfil, where I went last week, to visit the Cyfarthfa Museum, once home of the Crawshays, Ironmasters of Cyfarthfa.



Yesterday we took Tour Two of "Cordell Country", and visited the Neath valley, where the River Nedd winds its way and the canal and the main road up to the Heads of the Valleys road keep it company. We explored Aberdulais Falls first. This spectacular gorge has been home to a succession of industries, beginning with a copper smelting works in 1584. By 1830 a tin-plate works had been built, and the tall chimney and some of the walls still remain. There was also a Grist Mill here in the 18th C (earliest reference to it is 1765) and two millstones which were used to grind the barley, are on display beside the path. There are wonderful views of the river and falls, and of course, I took plenty of photos. There is a gigantic watermill which harnesses the water of the River Dulais to provide electricity for the site.



The falls looked different once, as the following pictures show and explain:






Then we crossed underneath the road, beside the river, where a digger on caterpillar tracks was clearing away storm debris from the last flood, plenty of firewood there!


We followed the guidance of the Cordell Country booklet, and found the tiny lock and keeper's cottage which was home to Mari Mortymer and her daughter Rhiannon in "Song of the Earth". It was barely 12 or 14 feet square, with a door on the lock-side and a door between two windows looking along the canal, which was barely the width of the canal barge at this point, and is now bricked in, and silted up, with Bullrushes still swaying and the sharp spikes of what will be Yellow Irises poking up through the muddy water.


The canal ran along this low bridge, with the aqueduct behind it. Behind the lock keeper's cottage and opening towards the aqueduct, were the usual near-the-canal lime kilns, level with the roadway at the top, so the lime could be tipped into them.


The lock-gates are lurching and akimbo, with the machinery rusting.



We walked on, to the Aberdulais Basin, at the jointure of the Neath and Tennant Canals. Here the little hump-backed Skew Bridge (Pont Garn) crossed the line of the canal into the basin.






Rather than pursue the entire trail, as we had made a late start, we drove a little way to visit the Cefn Coed Colliery Museum near Crynant.

My grandfather used to be a miner in the Welsh valleys (and his brother was one there all his life) and I wanted to find out what it was like down a mine. We passed the modern equipment - gigantic boilers, etc, and in the final building, where the winding-gear was for this pit, half a mile deep, we found an excellent display of photographs and read the story of mining in Wales. There were lots of photos of pit ponies too, with their knees bulging with bursal enlargements from strain and falling on their knees, no doubt. Reading about conditions, it was no surprise that my grandfather had walked into Newport and joined the Army in 1912.

No time to stand and stare . . .

I was reminded of this beautiful poem recently, when someone mentioned it on one of the forums I belong to. How true it is in this day and age.

As I was driving back from dropping my son off at the bus stop this morning, the birds were busy in the hedgerows. Two (I think they were Sparrows - it was hard to tell with the flurry of wings) were having a fracas in the middle of the lane. I slowed to a crawl and they carried on scrapping - buffeting one another with their wings, then they would lay side by side, seemingly stunned, before leaping into action and fighting again. Finally they realized I was there, and rolled into the dead leaves of Gary's hedge.

There had been a Mallard duck earlier, at the edge of the Alder carr woodland opposite Gary's fields. I think she had been dabbling in the muddy water where the Marsh Marigolds are flowering. She flew off as we approached.

When I got home, I just sat in the car for 5 minutes or so, and watched the wild birds. A Great Tit was checking out our tall old Russet apple tree in the paddock, looking for insects beneath the bark. He flew off and perched on a fence post, and then across to the copse at the side of the paddock. A Fieldfare swooped across the paddock and then up to the very tip of one of the fir trees on the bank across the lane, and two others followed him. It is still cold enough for them to be here - I'm not sure where they head for the summer, but I think it's Scandinavia. The Great Tit flew back to the apple tree. In the wing mirror I could see a Robin approach the car, and challenge it, tail up! A Magpie landed in our top field, and three Jackdaws, intent on worms, ignored him. A Chaffinch landed in the cooking apple tree by the car, and I noticed a Buzzard sat on the top of a telephone pole nearby, lord of all he surveyed. Up under the eaves of the house, the House Sparrows (sorry mum, Spadgers!) were feeding their babies, and taking it in turns to perch on the Sky disc. How much we miss, when we hurry by . . .

Leisure, by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

Going to Auctions . . .

A scene from a local auction.



I knew my husband for about 3 years before I started going out with him, and one of our first joint outings was to an auction, at what had been Stinsford Boys' School (right by the Church - it was one of two "Big Houses" in the parish, along with Kingston Maurward, where the Lady of the Manor took a liking to the young Thos. Hardy and encouraged him. ) Anyway, that's by the by - it was a lovely house inside and I still remember it clearly. The first thing we EVER bought - and it was from this sale - was a collection of mirrors for £12. One was the mahogany door (with mirror) off the central part of a gentleman's compactum, and it weighed a bloddy ton. It is still across one corner of our bedroom and is my dressing mirror. It has a finish like Rosewood and carving across the top and is lovely.

When we lived in Dorset, we used to go to Dickie Burden's Saturday and Monday Auctions in Sturminster Newton, to the Market auction in Sturminster N. too. Dickie Burden's was a particularly enjoyable sale as he was a quick (and sometimes cunning) auctioneer. One of my abiding memories of his sales was that there were always two or three beautifully embroidered and hand-sewn baby's Christening gowns offered for sale. They went very cheaply in those days and I do regret not buying one now. He would sell anything - even if he had to go as low as ten pence for it! I once bought a lovely solid mahogany dining chair there, for 25p (though for some reason I can only think of it as five shillings, as that still makes more sense to me!) - it was painted the brightest red you can imagine, but stripped off beautifully and when cleaned, oiled and reupholstered, it looked a different chair.

We also went to the auction in Blandford Town Hall, to Cottees in Wareham (our favourite, and they used to have a wonderful produce auction too), and also to one "out in the sticks" near Martock, where the decent stuff was in an old shabby barn and the "tat" was just out in an adjoining field.

This was part of a trayful of china (from a local Welsh auction) which only one other person bid on . . . but I went £1 higher! I love buying boxes of china too and have assorted collections displayed all over the house: jugs here, teapots there, Portmeirion on that shelf, blue and white china on this one.

Over the years pretty well ALL our furniture has been bought at auctions. Some has been competitively priced (but still far cheaper than an antique shop). Sometimes we fall in love with a piece, sometimes we feel SORRY for a piece which was obviously quality but needs a lot of restoration. We have been lucky enough to have plenty of bargains. Sometimes an item goes too high and we sigh for what might have been. We've learned some lessons too, especially in the early days, when there was a danger of paying too much for something through ignorance.

We are not averse to buying something that is damaged as my husband is very good with wood and carrying out restorations and repairs. I turn a blind eye to a nice jug with a chip or a broken handle - once it's hung on a beam, you don't notice the imperfections anyway. Sometimes my husband buys something I can't quite see a use for (still don't know what the heck it IS!) . . .


But it has still turned out quite useful . . .





Here's what I bought for a £2 bid at an auction last summer (sight unseen too!) - the porter just held up the "box of needlework bits" and I was the only bidder. . . I am still working my way through it and it has been SO useful. Aren't the Crinoline ladies gorgeous? Some of the sewing has been unpicked, so I intend to re-do the embroidery in those spots and then keep them safe.



I've used several lots of the bias binding, some of the felt and made most of the hexagons into a cushion front for one of my daughters.

Blackthorn winter

(Click on photos to enlarge)

I was interested to see what wild flowers would be flowering, and whether there was still snow on Black Mountain, so I took a walk up the hill behind the house today. No snow now , it's all melted, and this morning's offering was just a blizzard of wet sleet.

Hart's Tongue fern unfurling:



The first Stitchwort flower. Soon it will have masses of Red Campion and Bluebells to keep it company. I have a lovely x-stitch chart for a picture just like that and fancy sewing it again.



Primroses


Ground Ivy and leaves of Goosegrass


Violets

Violets and Hart's Tongue Fern unfurling


2 Red Campion flowers and leaves; leaves of Foxglove



The flowers were: Red Campion; Violets; Celendines; Saxifraga oppositifolia; Dandelions; Primroses; Wild Strawberries; Dog's Mercury; early Cow Parsley (though I've seen it in February in sheltered spots round here before) and the first Stitchwort. There were leaves of Foxglove; Shining Cranesbill; the first coils of Hart's Tongue Fern unrolling; and the little purple flowers of Ground Ivy.

Here is Shining Cranesbill, which will soon flower with its tiny pink flowers.



Dog's Mercury


Wild Strawberry



The Blackthorn was still in flower though, and spring flowers count for naught when it's still a Blackthorn Winter . . .

Being Self-Reliant

Today I am taking a feather from my friend GTM's cap in her blog:
http://greentwinsmummyasimplelife.blogspot.com/
and posting about self-reliance and what it means to me personally, which is something she wrote very eloquently about over the weekend.

I have been pondering the meaning of self-reliance to me. It is completely different to self-sufficiency, which means supplying all your needs by keeping livestock and growing all your fruit and vegetable produce. That is incredibly hard work and takes every daylight hour and every inch of ground you own (unless you have a complete farm and an extended family).

The self-reliance we practice here is based upon not buying anything new unless we have no option. Mainly electrical goods such as a television or a fridge or cooker would come under this heading. Those are things we can't make ourselves. Virtually every stick of furniture in this house has come from an auction. The quality of old furniture is FAR superior to the trash you can buy in the shops, and it is solid wood - pine, mahogany or oak - not the junk that MFI pedal. Some pieces we "rescue" have needed restoration - woodwork is my husband's hobby and in the past he has turned finials, chair legs, handles etc from locally-sourced wood. Blackthorn, when not too seasoned (it ends up rock-hard!) turns beautifully, as does Rhododendron and Laburnum and Apple and the chair-legs he turned from branches of Yew are absolutely beautiful, with theirnatural variants of colouration. Our kitchen table (hand made) is graced with a pair of apple-wood candlesticks which he made. Some pieces he has made from scratch, including the Medieval-style trestle table in the bottom kitchen. Some pieces look NOTHING like they did when they arrived, for instance, the bookcase in the sitting room was once a wardrobe! Until my husband got busy with his jig-saw and reshaped the sides.





Years ago, when our children were small and I was desperate to get out of the house for some "me-time" I took Upholstery classes. I can still remember some of what I learned, and have a book which I use when I am restoring a chair (book in one hand, tools in the other!), though I don't do big armchairs any more. I have a couple of chairs which are "projects" and which I should get started on. And here's one I did earlier . . .





I make all my own jam, chutney, jellies and turn surpluses into wine. We have a reasonable vegetable plot and various gluts - apples, courgettes and runner beans can always be relied upon in this department. I am a fruit-forager, and pick blackberries, sloes, elderberries and crab apples to turn into edible/drinkable things - often presents.



I bake all my own cakes, regularly make bread, always make my own pizza bases (I don't do "crisp and thin"!). I can always remember a woman who I was at pre-natal classes with, and who said (and believed it) - "Oh, I could NEVER make a cake" - as if was as difficult as splitting the atom! I despair when I visit the Supermarket and see pre-sliced mushrooms or beans, ready-to-cook roasted potatoes or even apples pre-sliced and ready to eat! Or I hear about people who ignore the fruit growing in their own garden (presumably too lazy to pick it) and go and buy apples or pears from the Supermarket.


Most meals are cooked from scratch, and a cold winter's day absolutely screams for a pan of home-made soup bubbling on the hob, better still with home-made bread to accompany it, and even sometimes, home-made butter too.

I make all my own curtains - it's far cheaper and even I can sew straight lines and do invisible hemming - enjoy lap-quilting, making hexagon quilts or cushion covers for my offsprings' beds, and whilst my dress-making skills are limited, I've recently made my eldest daughter a waistcoat which turned out quite well (as long as you don't examine it too closely!) Believe it or not, the beautiful curtains below cost something like 50p or a pound, being offcuts in a bargain store in Brecon.




This is my idea of being self-reliant. My husband and I between us can cope with most jobs, and the satisfaction we get from doing so is amazing and so rewarding. You would never believe the mahogany chest of drawers in our bedroom, gleaming flame mahogany, was once a dry grey shadow of itself in a Devon barn. The owner was going to burn it, but we returned from this house-viewing with a bonus chest of drawers . . .


In the past (which, let's face it, is where my mind resides most of the time!) people HAD to be self-reliant. Nothing was wasted. There was no green lifestyle option - that was the way you lived. Researching an essay once, about utilising local resources in the Medieval fulling mills of Wales, I was amazed at how EVERYTHING was sourced locally, and EVERTHING was used. Sheep utilised even the steepest of Welsh hillsides and the wealth of the Nation was built upon their fleeces. The pandys, the little mills where the wool was processed, were built where they were to utilise the power of the water coming swiftly down the streams and rivers. Local dyeplants such as Lady's Bedstraw, Agrimony, Bog Myrtle, Dyer's Greenweed and Green Alkanet provided a variety of colours dependent on the mordant used and many of them also had medicinal uses too. The people wore clogs on their feet for working in the damp and wet. These were made of Alder, a "waterproof" tree which grows in the Alder carr woodlands which abound in much of Wales. Clog makers would work their way around the countryside even as late as between the Wars, but in Medieval times, there was a more permanent arrangement, and the dye vats where the wool was coloured, were fuelled by the offcuts and chippings of the clog making industry.

I am fortunate in that I decided to be a stay at home mum, and have had the time to learn all these skills, although believe me, in our early years here, they were absolute NECESSITY, as money was extremely tight. Now all this is second nature and I can't imagine living any other way. How self reliant are you?

Chocolate Blackberry Brownies

This is my son's favourite recipe, so I was persuaded to make a batch yesterday:

3 eggs
175g (6 oz) or 3/4 cup caster (superfine) sugar
175g (6 oz) or 1 cup plain (semi-sweet) chocolate, broken into pieces
150g (5 oz) or 1/2 cup plus 2 tblspns sunflower margarine
100g (4 oz) or 1 cup plain (all-purpose) flour
225g (8 oz) 1 1/2 cups ripe blackberries, hulled (I use mine from frozen)
100g (4 oz) or 2/3 cup chocolate chips (I omit these - chocolately enough already)

Grease a 40cm (16 inch) square tin. Beat the eggs with the sugar in a bowl. Melt the chocolate and margarine in a bowl over a pan of hot water or in a microwave oven. Mix the egg and chocolate mixtures together. Stir in the flour and beat thoroughly. Mix in the blackberries and chocolate chips. Put the mixture into the prepared tin.

Bake in the oven at 180 degC/350 degF/mark 4 for 25-30 mins. Cool on a wire rack and cut into squares. Remove from the tin when completely cold. Makes 16.

This recipe is from the excellent "Country Harvest" by Linda Burgess and Rosamund Richardson - fabulous recipes, and wonderful photographs to accompany it. I use it a lot.

The Green Man

One of my favourite places to visit as it is SO fascinating. This is the green man at the top of the doorway to Kilpeck Church, Herefordshire.


And I can't resist showing you the exquisite carving of the whole doorway:



(You may guess there will be a post dedicated to this amazing church in the near future).




Where to start? The Green Man obviously has Pagan origins. He is linked in folklore to Jack-in-the-Green/Green Jack/John Barleycorn, who is connected with Maytime and midsummer celebrations. He is also associated with Mummers and Morris Dancers. The power and rebirth of the greenwood was celebrated on May Day. In the village of Great Wishford in Wiltshire, on the 29th May, the villagers go to Grovely Woods to collect wood, a right given them in 1603. They return bearing large branches of oak and chanting "Grovely, Grovely, and all Grovely" and bearing a banner with the same words on it. It seems a late date, but I would suspect may have much earlier Pagan origins, possibly connected with the Green Man/Jack-in-the-Green folklore.








We still have an intense desire to recreate the past. The lower Green Man is from Ren Faire.


The general theme is the same - a male human face (I believe Green Women are virtually unheard of), with foliage for hair, beard, and often protruding from the mouth or sometimes eyes or nostrils, and sometimes decorated with fruit or flowers. They are a definite part of Church architecture as well as appearing on secular buildings. It is a motif which appears in many cultures around the world, celebrating spring and rebirth. The actual term "Green Man" can be laid firmly at the feet of Lady Raglan, who called such carvings thus in her article on the subject for the Folklore Journal in 1939. The Green Man has, I believe, connections with the wild man of the woods - the Woodwose.



With the Renaissance, the Green Man found himself almost reinvented, and being used in illustrations as part of metalwork, manuscripts, stained glass and bookplates, never more so than in the Gothic Revival at the time of the Arts and Crafts movement, when he was often to be seen adorning the architecture of the period. He is enjoying another renaissance in art and sculpture, and my husband bought me a little Green Man sculpture for my birthday, when we were at Raglan Castle earlier this week.

Here is a Continental Green Man from Prague.

This fiercer face is from Pembroke College, Oxford.

A modern rendition and you can't help smile at him!

This one is in the Quire stalls at Winchester Cathedral.

This one is at Rosslyn Chapel (of Da Vinci Code fame) - not the prettiest Green Man I've ever seen!


There are even Green Cats. These were popular from about the 12th C onwards, and probably copied from the cats which appear in illustrated manuscripts. Apparently linked cats form a border around the font at Lullington, Somerset.

There are many derivatives and relations of the Green Man, Wikipedia names a few: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Man
and it is interesting that Father Christmas was originally clothed in green (or sometimes purple) before Coca Cola got hold of him!


A Green Man in reflective mode . . .

Show and Tell Friday over at Kelli's

Today I've been taking photos of just a few things from my kitchen, which is full of beams, just perfect for displaying things on.

(Click on photos to enlarge, and please try not to notice the cobwebs!)


I have quite a collection of jugs. Some of them battered and chipped, but once they are hung up you don't notice! This is one that is crazed all over from age, but is such a beautiful colour - the photo doesn't do it justice as it is the most beautiful jade green. It is a Victorian dresser jug.

This is a big copper poacher which hangs over the Inglenook fireplace. As you can tell, I haven't polished it recently!

This is an old hand-made Victorian copper frying pan. The handle is blacksmith-made, with twisted wrought iron straps supporting the handle. This too is over the inglenook.

A copper dipper, down to the tin now, with a bunch of sage for company.

This is a big copper ladle (a Welsh one)I found at a Car Boot Sale many years ago. It would have been used in the Dairy. You can just see the tinned interior of another old ladle opposite it, but that is French, battered, and came from an Antiques Shop in Suffolk. In between them is a bunch of Lady's Mantle flowers I dried last year, and the stripey "thing" is a jumper which is hanging to dry on the "Betty Maid" - an old-fashioned indoor airer. We have two of them.



This I DID polish this week! It is an old miner's lamp from a mine in Eccles, Lancashire. My husband's father was given this after delivering a (posh) car to the mine owner back in the 1930s. My late m-in-law passed it on to us, as she had been hiding it under her bed, for fear that a burglar might find it and do her to death with it!!! She had a vivid imagination . . .

Arte y Pico Award

This beautiful award from Arte y Pico at:

http://arteypico.blogspot.com/

has been given to me based on the criterion listed below and I’m very honored to be distinguished in this way. The award was given to me by my dear friend Nancy at: http://morthanenough.wordpress.com

Thank you so much, Nancy! Nancy received the award and when you visit her blog you’ll understand why.

There are 5 rules:

1) Pick 5 blogs that You Feel Are Deserving of this award based on their

(a) creativity,

(b) design,

(c) interesting material, and

(d) contribution to the blogging community, no matter what language.

2) For each award giver: Include the name of the author and a link to their blog, so they can be visited.

3) For each award recipient: Show the award with the name and link to the blogger from whom it was received.

4) For both giver and receiver: Show the link of Arte y Pico. (http://arteypico.blogspot.com/)

5) Publish these rules.


My choices for recipients of this award are:

1. Leanne at Somerset Seasons http://www.somersetseasons.blogspot.com/
for her fascinating contributions about Folklore, fabulous sunrise and sunset photographs, beautiful poetry, inspirational recipes and sewing and the best Playlist I've ever come across!

2. Mrs Nesbitt at http://mrsnesbittsplace.blogspot.com/
for her journeys all over Yorkshire by motorbike, for her dog walking photographs, poetry, and the words to every song I think I ever sang at my mother's knee! I wish my blogsite design was as good.

3. For GTM over at http://greentwinsmummyasimplelife.blogspot.com/
for making me remember what it was like having little ones, for memories of the beautiful Dorset countryside, for celebrating village life in its minutiae and for an eclectic Playlist, not to mention for writing passionately about what she believes in and passing the message forward.

4. For Lottie over at http://kooringa.com/
whose blog I have probably been following the longest, and like Mrs Nesbitt, has been a great inspiration to me. Her garden, allotment and wonderful poultry have kept me amused for many dank winter mornings, and her artwork is second to none and incredibly creative - she is so talented. Her posts are always long and profusely illustrated and she never fails to deliver. She also has the cutest grandson - does that count too?

5. For Yarrow over at http://oakmoon.blogspot.com/
who reminds me of me when young! She is a wonderful artist, sculptress, mother, cook, gardener and horsewoman and her blog reflects this.

I have had a whole new chapter of my life open up since I began blogging, and these 5 friends (and Nancy and others Stateside who have been so encouraging) have shown how one can express the real person inside - the person who has to be mother, wife, daughter, friend and so many different things besides, and who through blogging, can really be themselves (and indulge every creative whim!)

A Walk in the Woods

(Click on photos to enlarge)


The first part of the walk hasd views across the valley to the little farmsteads on the opposite hillside, hemmed in about with parade-grounds of tall conifers, holly-green and heads-high.

The trees at the edge of the pathway were green with mosses and litchens, blasted with the winter rains and quiet in confidences, whispering in the breeze.


A forest is always in need of tending: of removing the weak and twisted ash and sycamore to let in the light and encourage the oak saplings.


Trees planted like ranks of skewers, barren land beneath, where nothing grows, their trunks misted-green on the boundaries from the prevailing rains and the twines of ivy, ever an opportunist.

There was a glimpse of a whitewashed farmhouse through the trees, nestling lengthways into the landscape as if it were planted there, so the winds blew over its roof.

A beguiling path led us on, trodden for long years before Forestry land was even thought about and leading to the uplands.


Badger-face sheep watched us suspiciously as we passed. They have black facial markings, and a black strip stretching down from throat, along the belly and the underside of the tail, and black legs. They also come in "negative" colouring, which is black/very dark brown-black with white marks and gullet/belly stripe.

Finished!

Finally - I've finished my eldest daughter's waistcoat, which was meant to be one of her Christmas presents until it Didn't Fit! It took Much Modification, but now she is delighted with it and I am very relieved that it is finished. The "Borrowers look" aka the giant buttons, is very much her sort of thing, as is the colouring . . .

Cyfarthfa, Crawshays, Chartists and Cholera

Yesterday I had my birthday trip out early, whilst all the family were still home for Easter. Because of some recent reading - Alexander Cordell's "Rape of the Fair Country" which is set in the Merthyr Ironworks of the 1830s onwards - I wanted to see for myself what Cyfarthfa Castle, the grand mansion of the Crawshays, who owned the Cyfarthfa Ironworks, really looked like. It is now owned by the County Council and has been turned into a Museum, with its wonderful grounds open to the public to enjoy. Anthony Bacon founded the Cyfarthfa Ironworks in 1765. The Castle itself was designed by Richard Lugar, and built in 1824, costing £30,000 - very extravagent in those days.



A painting of the ironworks, which was on the wall above a legitimate photography area!

According to the guide book, it covers an acre, and had its own dairy, brewhouse and icehouse. What was once a Fernery, is now a small tearoom where we had ice-creams yesterday. In the grounds were huge glasshouses where tender fruit, including exotic things like pineapples, were grown. In front of the house is a lake (which also fed water to the ironworks). On the approach to the Castle, we passed Williamstown - a row of what now look like very desirable Georgian stone 2-up, 2-down cottages, which were built to house Crawshay ironworkers.

General view of Merthyr looking towards the mountains.

Whilst Cordell's novel paints a very different picture of how the Merthyr ironworkers lived and were treated, William Crawshay II (1788-1867) had "a strong sense of moral duty to his workforce. He refused to cut their pay during slumps in trade and never advocated the "truck" system of company owned shops trading via tokens offered as part payment at inflated prices." The wrongful hanging of Dic Penderyn, accused of being the leader of the 1831 rising in Merthyr Tydfil, painted William Crawshay very black, and yet apparently he paid for an appeal to the Home secretary against this conviction.

Yet I think the horses in his private stables probably lived better than many of his workers, housed in filthy "under-and-over" houses, whose 2 rooms were crammed with lodgers as well as children. One of the displays in the Museum describes conditions thus: "Children barefoot and in rags, and the smell unbearable. Their hair bristled up and they were literally black with filth." What water there was, in springs and wells, stank if kept 24 hours and smelt like decayed animal matter. This was no wonder since it passed through the burial ground. There were no privies - people used fields, byways and even in the streets, where the resulting mire stank in hot weather. Queues formed for the water - 50, 80 or even 100 people long, all waiting for 6, 8 or even 10 hours just for their turn to get a bucketful of the fetid water. There was no other supply whatsoever. Even Williamstown Row, smart and bijou now, was home to terrible cholera epidemics in the mid 19th C.



It was no wonder that the Chartist movement was very strong in the area. With its beginnings in the Cotton mills of Industrial Lancashire, Chartism became a cause close to the hearts of industrial workers in the Welsh Valleys, who also sought to escape oppression. In 1839 there was a mass march of Chartist supporters on Newport, where some of their number were held captive. Zephania Williams, John Frost and William Jones led forces from their respective valleys. Jones' men failed to show, and the supporters behind Williams and Frost spent a miserable night in torrential rain waiting for them before deciding to carry on. This delay allowed troops to be brought in from elsewhere, and when they attacked the Westgate Inn, the soldiers within had an excellent stronghold and opened fire on those attacking from the hallway and fired from windows on the crowds outside. About 17 people were killed outright, and many others badly injured. The main leaders were captured and tried. Originally sentenced to death, this was commuted to transportation for life. Subsequent petitions over a number of years, some with as many as 5 million signatories, changed nothing.

Whilst there were strikes for better pay and conditions, it didn't pay to become a blackleg and work despite the strike, for the Scotch Cattle would find out and pay the blackleg a visit: The Wikipedia entry states that "The Scotch Cattle was the name taken by bands of coal miners in South Wales, analogous to the Molly Maguires in Pennsylvania, who, in disguise, would visit the homes of other local miners who were working during a strike or cooperating with employers against the local mining community in other ways and punish them by ransacking their property or attacking them physically." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scotch_Cattle

Eden Phillpotts

My father grew up in a village on the edge of Dartmoor, and knew parts of the moor intimately. He always said that Eden Phillpotts described the moor as it really was; the people too. I only have a few of his novels, but I am always on the lookout for more. Of course, he was writing largely at the beginning of the 20th century and his novels seem very melodramatic in this day and age, but are worth reading for the picture of Dartmoor they paint, a Dartmoor of a byegone age. He can be compared with Thomas Hardy with his faithful depiction of the countryside of his youth. Dad always said when he was a lad everyone spoke still using "thee" and "thou". With the advent of radio, I feel it must have had a big impact on dialect and for the worse, I fear, although I realize that languages are always developing.





Eden Phillpots was born on 4th November 1862 and nearly made his centenary, as he died on 29th December 1960. What a breadth of living that must have been - starting in the high Victorian period, when even bicycles were something of the future, and ending with the start of the space age. Although born in India, he was educated in Plymouth and had Dartmoor in his blood. During the space of his lifetime, he spent ten years as an insurance inspector, before studying for the stage and becoming the author of over 200 books, . The subject of one of his novels, from the Dartmoor cycle, Widecombe Fair, was also produced as a comic play, The Farmer's Wife and was also a silent movie of that name directed by Alfred Hitchcock in 1927.



It is not surprising to learn that such a man of Dartmoor was for many years President of the Dartmoor Preservation Society. He was a friend of Agatha Christie and Arnold Bennett, who once remarked, "You have chosen a damn fine theatre for your work". He was a keen field naturalist and took careful notes of anything that he found interesting, so no wonder his descriptions of the Dartmoor I know and love cannot be faulted.





I will end this with one of his descriptions, to whet your appetite for his writing. This is from The River (1902):

"To Crockern Tor he passed along, where nightly rains under a morning of pure azure glittered around him. It was as though a mist had been caught out of the air, spread upon the waste and woven thereinto with sunbeams. The dawn light mellowed many a league of sere grasses until earth's habit shone like cloth of gold upon the shoulders of the hills against blue gloom and rosy fore-glow in the western sky. Opulence of tonem intense purity of each great colour-wave marked that crystal hour; only the granite, peeping grey from red fern and rusty heath, lifted prisms of quartz to the direct sun-rays and, discovering their rainbow secrets, scattered them seperately."



Amongst his Dartmoor novels are:

Children of the Mist (1898)
The River (1902)
The American Prisoner (1904)
The Whirlwind (1907)
The Mother (1908)
The Virgin in Judgement (1908)
The Three Brothers (1909)
The Thief of Virtue (1910)
The Beacon (1911)
The Forest on the Hill (1912)
Orphan Dinah (1920)