Little walks

Sadly my last blog post was also the last time we managed to get out for a good long ramble. Since then, work has taken over again and I've been back in my studio. One thing I do try to do every day though - if only to stop myself going completely potty - is to get out for an hour or so every day. I need to feel space around me, to escape everything and everyone.

There are several footpaths round our village and although some might find doing the same walk day in day out rather repetitive, there are always new things to see, if you keep your eyes open. At one corner of a field there are usually hares to be spotted - if one is stealthy.

Or a birds nest tumbled from a tree, to be examined. Moss, pheasant feathers, horse hairs and grass...the softest, warmest bed for vulnerable little chicks.

Look, a tiny blue feather -

Fancy suggests that it may be a peacock feather, as there is a peacock in a village across the way - though I did wonder if it was a swallow breast feather.

I usually to do my walk in the morning, but sometimes I prefer to spend the day working and treat myself to an evening stroll. The light is different and if the weather is fine, a warm, golden balm coats the countryside...

...and the Moon rises to say a quick hello to the Sun before he sinks below the horizon. There she is, just above the trees, almost hidden in all that blue sky.

The horse chestnut avenue is looking spectacularly pretty, but already the 'candles' are dying back, revealing embryonic conkers - a reminder that this exquisite spring, my favourite season, is all too fleeting.

There are many small miracles to stop this daily walk becoming dull - but mostly it is enough to be out in the fresh air with the open sky above me.

A little Saxon church

This is one part of the tale of two churches, lying within a mile or so of each other. The first church (as seen in my previous post 'A Cotwolds bonbon') is the one situated above, in the village of Coln St Dennis and is Norman in origin, though almost certainly built on the site of a previous Saxon church. We visited both on a chilly Spring day last week. Each is a tiny, simple jewel, and each contains a similar story with different endings. To visit this first one, you need to go over to my other blog. But here, we are continuing our walk, on to Coln St Rogers.

Instead of following this inviting lane, we turned off left, and took a sideways route along the riverbank, the church just visible to our right.

The pussy willow was out - who can resist stroking the silky soft furry buds?

The South porch is a later addition, as is the bell tower.

Inside, an earlier, Norman entrance with recessed Typanum (the top of the arch).

We are still in the early learning stage of 'reading a church' and our slim knowledge is often confused and groping - which is a shame because this marvellous little building is as rich in history as any grand cathedral. The central chancel arch seen here is apparently part of the first Saxon building, making at least 1,000 years old. St Andrews is a rare example of an very early church which has retained much of its original ground plan.

On top of the solid stone jambs, pellet ornament and you can see behind Saxon 'long and short work' - the supporting masonry surrounding the tall window. The pulpit to the right of the chancel arch is from the later Gothic 'Perpenicular period'; the late 1300's to the 1500's.

There are more wonderful old features than I could possibly list here, but we intend to return and I will continue my lecture another day. One final poppet - the remains of a Gothic period glass figure of St Margaret, about the same age as the stone pulpit (1300's - 1500's).

On the way out I picked up a jar of homemade marmalade -

Sat on top of the Norman tub-shaped font in a tupperware box -

and only 80p. It's an honesty system and you pop your money in a little 'letterbox' safe in the wall.

A country church may appear deserted, but there will be some neighbour keeping a watchful eye on the odd visitor. Here I found Andy with a volunteer gardener, discussing the Great War (World War One) and the devastating impact it had on the population of British villages. And here is the parting of the way in my tale of two villages.

For while in neighbouring Coln St Dennis, many young lives were lost, miraculously all the servicemen from Coln Rogers - and one woman who was in the Voluntary Aid Detachment - returned. I found myself wondering what repercussions this had on relationships between the villages, which, being in an isolated spot and so close to each other, must have had tight bonds. Were there undercurrents of resentment or a general feeling of thankfulness that at least some had been spared?

As usual I am indebted for my clumsy knowledge to the Internet and the useful little pamphlet provided by a local amateur historian.

Thinking of Spring 14th Feb

At present life consists of two things for me - working and walking, in that order. At the moment, working is full time, with little space for anything more than an 'if-I-don't-get-out-I-will-explode' march round the village fields. Last Sunday though, we woke to the first blue skies and sun we'd seen for days, so without stopping for breakfast, we hastened over to one of our favourite walks, to look for signs of Spring.

There are new shoots appearing - not yet on the trees, but certainly in crop fields. We walked across to a lovely farm, the footpath following along the almost purple hogged hedgerow.

First it basked in almost warm sunshine, then dark clouds rolled over and it merged into the landscape like a camouflaged animal.

So I stalked it, getting closer...

...and closer...

Walking round the estate we could sense a stirring - birds jousting with songs, sticky horse chestnut buds swelling, catkins and snowdrops trembling in the chilly breeze. And two large, bronzed hares galloping across a field towards cover.

While the sun was out, it made one hope that maybe the year is on the turn at last.

In a few weeks time, these rich winter neutrals will have transformed to gauzy greens and saffrons.

I am sure of it.

Further reading on this estate

British History online fascinating in-depth reading on the estate, it's long history and the surrounding villages which belong to it, including the farm I have shown here.

A discussion on development and repair of the grade one listed estate house - (not shown here)

English Heritage report on the estate house (with picture)

Weather - changeable

Too bitterly cold to take the motorbike out, so today we confined ourselves to a brisk, bracing walk outside of the village. The bright sun did nothing to warm us.

Especially as there were ominous clouds moving in from the East, blown along on a thin, cutting wind.

In the distance we could see something - sleet, rain or snow - being dumped from these gloomy giants.

Soon they were swallowing the blue sky and we hurried back as fast as we could across claggy fields. Then it arrived.

More snow. Tiny powdery dots hurtling towards us in a frenzy. Dramatic, but nothing to worry about.

Just a little reminder that winter is not quite done with us yet.

A quick spin Jan 18th

It's been over a month since I went more than two miles from the village, thanks to my workload, Christmas and the snow. I dutifully chained myself to my work desk again on Monday, stifling - not very successfully - a heavy sigh as Andy took the motorbike over to our new walk, Akerman Street at Eastleach, to take photos. I hate being left behind. But later he returned and told me to grab my coat and helmet; the sun was out and it was a beautiful day. Work or no work, I grabbed my gear and was taken on a whistle stop tour of our patch looking at its most glorious in its winter colours. First we went to the top of the biggest hill, where we can survey our kingdom, looking towards the west. The views are vast and wide, and we were on top of the world, spotting the dear familiar landmarks of far off lanes and villages.

On to Swinbrook, most pretty of West Oxfordshire villages, where the Windrush has surged over its banks into the flood fields, providing small lakes for wild fowl.

A bright St George's Cross, the flag of England, flaps cheerily from the little church where I have taken many photos - but that is another story for another day.

Taking the bike down narrow, twisting lanes, we stopped every so often simply to absorb the views, cold, steely flood water reflecting the soft, apricot light.

Another flood plain and an old farmhouse being renovated -

After so many weeks of the same scenery, it was breathtaking to be out and about.

One solitary, stately swan enjoying a temporary paddling pool.

Time to make tracks for home and head on up the winding lane.

As the dying sun began to steal what little warmth there had been, there was a last stop off to capture a solitary beech clump, which stands near Shipton Barrow, just seen in the back ground. Sadly on private ground, so no exploring - just a final souvenir snap of a wonderful tour of our part of the Cotswolds.