Exmoor

Exmoor - the heather-covered country of Lorna Doone, wild ponies, and Porlock hill...

In my opinion, Exmoor has it all - forest covered hills, rolling green fields, beech woods, moors,  heather, wild ponies, roaming sheep (not to mention the occasional highland cattle), cliffs, beaches, and stunning seascapes. Who could ask for more?

I have never enjoyed swimming in swimming pools (and have besides, a fear of being out of my depth), but one of the joys of my life is paddling - sometimes amounting to wading, if there's been a lot of rain - in the icy streams of Exmoor. Everything about it, from the bone-cracking cold, to the balancing act of finding a secure footing on the stony bottom, to the purity of the water itself, lends it an interest and mild excitement simply lacking in the sterile atmosphere of a man-made pool.
As to the bone-cracking iciness - I don't know why it is, but the streams down there do seem to be particularly cold. I went paddling in the streams in Yorkshire a couple of years ago, at the same time of year, and they were positively warm; well, perhaps not actually warm, but certainly mild compared to the invigorating coldness of those on Exmoor...

I asked my parents which town they would rather live in if they had the opportunity: Lynton - at the top of the cliff, or Lynmouth - at the bottom. My father chose Lynton, as he said he would always prefer to be high up than low down. My mother, on the other hand, said she'd rather live in Lynmouth, in order to be as near the sea as possible.

Cliff-top view over Lynmouth bay.

After taking a walk along a cliff path looking out over Lynmouth bay, with the heather-covered slope tumbling straight down beside me into the water, and the late-afternoon sun reflecting off the silvery sea, I decided with my father. Living down in a valley all the time would make me claustrophobic; let me glory in the heights, and gaze down on nature's splendour from above!

So Tall

When my cousin was staying over last Christmas, I sang her some of my favourite Bluegrass songs. After she'd sat through about five of them she said to me, Can't you sing me some cheerful songs? To which I responded that This is Bluegrass - there are no cheerful songs; except for a few about whisky...
So I sang her some songs about whisky.

This conversation got me thinking about the depressing content of country/folk ballads in general, and ones about infidelity (and there are a lot) in particular, and one thing that came to my attention is that in all the songs, no matter which party is guilty of being unfaithful, the outcome is certain: whether she be murdered, or die of a broken heart, it is the woman who always ends up dead. This seemed to me to be rather imbalanced; so, admittedly at the expense of my own sex, I attempted to right the wrong, and to this end I wrote So Tall.

...You can listen to a recording of it in Little Grey Rabbit's Music, in the column on the right...

Nature's Bounty

"Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful,

or believe to be beautiful."

William Morris

This week I have been foraging in the hedgerows. First I collected damsons; I actually set out to find blackberries, and did indeed pick a fair number, but the damson tree I passed on the way was a delightful bonus. It was growing very close to the lane - no inconvenient ditches to straddle, as happened later on with the crab apples - and its branches were fairly drooping with the big purpley-black fruits. They looked so beautiful, and I reached up and gathered great handfuls of them. After sitting around for a day or two looking attractive, they were made into damson 'cheese' by my father. It's not really cheese (obviously), but a very thick, rather solid sort-of spread, and it goes well on oatcakes.

The next day I went for a walk past a big horse chestnut tree, and spread out beneath it on the ground were lots and lots of rich, brown, glossy conkers. They may not have any edible uses, but I couldn't resist! They are so round and shiny and satisfying that every year I am tempted to pick far more than I have any space for. My father says I am a conkaholic...

Actually, I have recently discovered that conkers do have a use, though not an edible one: they keep spiders away. Apparently this is caused by the conkers giving out some sort of chemical that spiders pick up on, and they hate it. So if you put conkers on a windowsill, or on the floor in a corner, it will rid a room of any current spidery inhabitants (and discourage any new arrivals). There now! Useful and beautiful: William Morris would approve...