A week of partial release, part 2

Tags

Daffodils, Dear Leap, Ebbor Gorge, latency, Mendips, Midney Gardens, National Gardens Scheme, South West Early Music Forum

On Tuesday evening I had an online bridge session with my club, with a typically low score, but who cares? In the Tuesday session we can actually see and chat with people, as at an in-person (that’s the jargon term these days, isn’t it?) club session. Good to keep up with, and in many cases to get to know better, other members.

The weather on Wednesday was not as warm as it had been the previous two days. Indeed, it was quite a chilly early start for me, as I had to pick up my Click and Collect groceries from Sainsbury’s before three friends, Chris, Jill and Tony, arrived for a four-part sing in my garden. (Thus the new chairs.) We hadn’t met since early November. Although we had arranged to meet on December 22nd, to sing carols outside a local care home, this was cancelled at the last minute as the home had just had its first case of Covid-19, and plans to move residents into others’ bedrooms to be near the windows had to be abandoned. Pre-pandemic I used to go to this home once a month to sing to the residents, old (mainly pre-1960) pop songs, with karaoke-style recorded accompaniment. Whenever it may that that resumes, sadly there will be several missing faces.

Our four-part sing was really very enjoyable, though I was a bit croaky, not having sung for all those months, and after one particularly high piece my throat was rather sore, but it was so good to be in real company again. In the afternoon, a friend, Kathryn, came for a natter, at a late enough hour to justify taking a glass of wine together. Where we had definitely not seen the sun in the morning, at least it accompanied our wine in a wan fashion late afternoon.

Thursday afternoon saw another bridge session, via a different ‘platform’ (is that the word?) which does not include video and live chat, just what they call ‘live chat’ – which is really typed! It therefore requires less bandwidth and enables less well internet-served people, including my regular club partner, Daphne, to join in.

The next morning, Friday, it was out to met a friend, Zoe, for a resumed monthly walk. We had not met since June. She arranged for us to meet in a car park at Dear Leap, in the Mendip Hills, and our walk was along Ebbor Gorge. Sharp intake of breath as I pulled in to park! This met my eyes. I had never been there before. Zoe said the view was even better when there was no mist.

The weather promised to be cold, and so it was, but we walked (scrambled for part of the way) in glorious sunshine for much of the time. I ached in the afternoon, so it was as well that I had nothing planned for then. Here’s a selection of photos I took as we walked and talked.

As we passed these stones, Zoe explained that the area was known as Deer Leap because ‘once upon a time’ a deer had leapt the distance between them – about 10 metres I would say.

Glastonbury Tor between the stones, in the far distance.

We met only one of these animals during our walk.

Our path went downwards.

The bottom of the gorge.

And what/who goes down must go up. Scrambling in this case.

It was sunny at the top.

Down there was where we had been.

I thought these two looked charming.

That was a tiring but very satisfying walk, both from the energy aspect and aesthetically.

On Saturday, I joined a Zoom meeting with members of the South West Early Music Forum. As befitted the season, our Chair, Clare, played through all the chorales from J S Bach’s Matthew Passion on her home organ, and everyone else played, sang or just listened along as they wished.

Instruments I could see on the Zoom call were two bass recorders, a violin (viola?), a cello – and a concertina! Perhaps it was as well that we could not hear each other, and I could certainly see the effect of internet ‘latency’ as I watched others singing – they were all either behind or ahead of me, as I sang to what I heard from Clare.

And to round off the week, in the afternoon I visited a National Gardens Scheme garden, just 20 minutes away from where I live. Midney Gardens was a nursery, tea shop and gardens until Covid. Sadly, the business has now had to close for good, but they are still opening ten times a year for the NGS, raising loads of money for various charities.

I was told as I arrived that there were about 140 different varieties of daffodil in the garden, though some had by now gone over.

To say the garden displayed a few quirky objects would be a serious understatement. But of course a garden has beds, doesn’t it? I wonder what will be planted in this one later on in the season.

They’re not called cauliFLOWERs for nothing.

The Gin Garden. How long did it take the owners to accumulate all those bottles?

Their kingcups are well ahead of mine, which are in full shade.

Snowbells

I thought these were my favourite of all the daffodils I saw…

… until I saw these.

“This seat is for lichens only now. Do not use”

Midney is so near to my home, and will be offering cream teas later in the year as it opens for the NGS – I shall return!

When I got home, I noticed this in my garden. I’d not seen it in previous years – is it a mutant, a variant?

It was a busy week. This looks to be much quieter. Boiler service, two bridge sessions, hopefully a meet-up or two with friends, and some podcasts to catch up on, with some knitting to finish as I listen.

Coleford House, NGS

Tags

Coleford, Coleford House, Mells Stream, Mendips, National Gardens Scheme, NGS

On Saturday, I realised that I had not been further than my garden for a whole week. The weather was forecast to be lovely on Sunday, so I looked for an NGS garden which would be open, with not too far to drive. (I feel so guilty environmentally if I have to drive more than an hour each way.) I found Coleford House, about 35 minutes away, in the eastern Mendip Hills. As it happened I was singing (in my garden, socially distanced), with three friends on Monday, two of whom knew or had known the previous owners. These had moved out in 1999.

I parked my car at 11.00 in the designated field down the road, and walked a couple of hundred yards to the house.

Met and greeted at the door of the Studio,

I was handed this map, prepared by an artist friend, not credited, of the family. (Some of her work was on sale.) I have added the swimming pool and the tennis court, not marked officially.

This is part of Coleford House.

Round in the herb garden:

Past the cottage into the walled garden,

where there were refreshments to be had in the orangery, though I didn’t partake. I had just had coffee in the car, and also I’m still being very wary about unnecessary people proximity, particularly going indoors.

I did let my camera zoom in approvingly for me on the green roof.

I was intrigued by the bat house. I tried to duck in under the roof, but soon withdrew. It was boarded in at lower than my height. On the roof outside I could see a couple of entrances for flying creatures.

The orchard

Over the other side of the orchard bridge was the kiln, but there were too many people there (more than in this picture), for me to think of joining them.

However, it soon thinned out, and it is very difficult to resist going over a bridge.

A delightfully curious kiln

was accompanied by a more conventional one.

Talking of convention, whoever heard of a crocodile defending a tennis court?

For the avoidance of doubt, the tail is on the left, a (sculpted) tennis ball keeping the creature’s mouth closed.

Very neat wildflower panels

A sneak look at the swimming pool,

and a walk along what is called the river with no name on the plan, but which my OS map clearly labels, if I’m reading it correctly, the Mells Stream.

The pretty garden bridge was not for crossing,

not even for closer examination of the weir.

The lily pond

Looking over towards the house, with part of Coleford village in the background. (Not to be confused with the town of Coleford in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire.)

I did wonder whether I was missing out on something at the cottage, perhaps some info from an owner of the House. But then when I saw one out of and one in the door on the right, I realised what it was being used for.

Magnificent walnut and tulip trees dwarfing the house.

Wandering on, I looked back along the river, and made my way back to the entrance, looking down at my feet by the copper beech.

Out on to the road and back to my car, by way of a road bridge.

I’m wondering whether there will be another garden visit this year?

Romulus and Remus

Tags

A 39, Amulius, Bristol, Faustulus, Gaetano Celestra, Mendips, PoWs, Remus, Rhea Sylvia, Rome, Romulus, Wells, wolf, World War Two

It is very easy not to notice Romulus and Remus at the side of the busy Wells/Bristol road, at one of the highest points of the Mendip Hills.  I drove by in ignorance for months after I moved to Somerset, until someone pointed them out to me.  But only today have I actually found parking and visited them on foot.

It’s a sculpture created and given by some grateful Italian prisoners of war as they were released in 1945.

As I stood and read the plaque, I couldn’t help by be moved, even though I already knew the story.  Perhaps it was learning the name of the sculptor that got to me. He settled in the area and continued working as a builder and stonemason.