My sister Diane drove us on Saturday to our holiday destination way down in the toe of Cornwall, only to find that there's no signal for cellphones or mobile broadband here, so have not been online for three days. However, we are online now, by paying for a 24 hour internet connection. We knew it was a risk, booking our holiday for May. Although in memory May has often been a warm and sunny month, this year it's not living up to that promise. We are getting sun, when the strong south-westerly winds disperse the clouds and rain for a while, but it feels cool rather more than warm. At this rate we'll be going home with sun-tanned goose-pimples!
This holiday park is based on an old family estate with the Manor House forming the hub and our small apartment is part of the old Coach House that would have also been stables, but smells OK now! There's a good Bar and Restaurant, where we had wonderful fish and chips on our arrival. We've had a dip in the indoor swimming pool, luxuriated in the jacuzzi and keep promising to use the gym, tomorrow.
Our first trip out was to Helston; of the Helston Floral (Furry) Dance fame, which we watched in May 1946, when I was young and Di was so young she doesn't remember. We were on our first family holiday after the War and stayed in a Guest house in Porthleven, a small fishing village nearby. I do remember that May, which was gloriously warm and sunny; and have the photographs to prove it! Paddling in the sea in our summer clothes, unlike the coats and scarves we wore today.
Anyway, the stormy wind made for stunning seascapes.
3 comments:
My family on my father's mother's side are from that part of Cornwall. It was great to see your pictures, read your story, and look up a bit more about the Flurry on the Internet. How delightful it must have been for you all those years ago -- and this positive memory clearly has lived on . . .
Childhood memories of good times are precious. I have some from time spent camping and canoeing in the Superior National Forest in the northeastern tip of Minnesota. I haven't been there since 2001, when we spread my father's ashes on, what for him was, hallowed ground.
That particular year, I had an extraordinary chance encounter with a lone wolf while out walking. It was a gorgeous, sunny, late summer day, with a breeze blowing through the thick, boggy forest. Ripe raspberries and blueberries bulged on bushes on the sides of the path. The wind, blowing into my face, carried scents of pine and boggy earth. As I crested a small hill, I saw the wolf. Our eyes met and we both paused, holding eye contact. Then gently, quietly, we each backed away.
Years ago this path had been a much-used gravel road connecting the national forest campground with the privately owned lodge, cabins, and store. I knew it well and had travelled on it, both on foot and by car, years ago. In the intervening years, a new road had been built, one that was straighter and less hilly. In this somatic retracing of childhood steps, my sense of the passage of time and the forest's capacity to reclaim was keenly felt.
Heartfelt memories . . .
I've been ruminating on what I wrote, and realized that I was the one who gently, quietly backed away, with the wolf holding both eye contact and position. Nature is truly the more potent energy!
Thanks for that wonderful recollection Catherine. Those heart-stopping moments are so valuable!
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