Julie is on a Yoga retreat in deepest Somerset this week. The idea is to rest and relax, with half the day spent doing yoga from 8am and then an afternoon pottering across the Quantocks before a light supper and bed. I was told however a cream tea is planned for the Thursday - really, surely a retreat is abstinence of all things sinful. Or is that reading the Countryman magazine. I'm glad though there is some form of modern connectivity available. Otherwise this morning I'd not have received this really interesting photograph - the view from Julie's bedroom in the annex of the old hall. An opposite view apparently is across rolling countryside.
This image however delves deeper into my psyche. An open casement - must be fine weather. A stone surround, must be an older building. A complementary tea and coffee tray, ahh a hotel or bed and breakfast maybe. And there's a story already unfurling. If I had a mind to write this now I'd begin with
".. she sat by the open casement, lamenting the demise of the old ways. How many people have gazed through this opening over her lifetime. Over many lifetimes or two. Their individual lives separate from the morass of connection; unknown in life, forgotten in death; yet connected by a view....an ever changing view, restless with the passing of that artifice, time. Without the doorbell rang. Stepping nearer, she looked out. There was nobody there... she looked again, only the swifts screamed overhead braking the silence. A deep penetrating silence, swaddling stillness; in the garden just the fading remnants of the misty dawn swirled around the lawn like playful sprites....... She looked again "is that mist?"....."
However as it's currently 28oC, I'm heading somewhere cooler to think. To be continued (or not).
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