...more on the Moor

Looking down into the valley, Widecombe-in-the-Moor appears as a green oasis after crossing miles of heather and gorse covered windswept moorland. The name is thought to derive from 'Withy-combe' which means Willow Valley. There are just 196 village households but its sprawling parish stretches many miles encompassing dozens of isolated cottages and moorland farms.

Tourism is a major source of income for Widecombe today. Best known for Widecombe Fair, held annually and celebrated by a well-known folksong featuring "Old Uncle Tom Cobley and All", a song all Devon children learn at a young age I might add.

The church of St. Pancras is known as the 'Cathedral of the Moor' in recognition of its 120 foot tower and relatively large capacity for such a small village. Originally built in the 14th century in the Perpendicular style (late Gothic) using locally quarried granite, it was enlarged over the following two centuries with proceeds from the tin mining trade. The church was badly damaged in the Great Thunderstorm of 1638 when struck by lightning, killing 4 parishioners and injuring 60. According to local legend, this huge storm was caused by the village being visited by the Devil.

The interior of the church has many decorative roof bosses, including the tinner's emblem of a circle of three hares - known locally as the Tinners' Rabbits.

Beautiful painted wooden screens.
The size of this parish meant that for centuries families were obliged to walk miles to attend services at Widecombe on Sunday. Even more of a challenge was burying their dead. Coffins had to be carried over rough ground and up and down exceptionally steep moorland hills. Halfway up Dartmeet Hill lies the Coffin Stone, close to the road, where the body would be placed to allow bearers to take a rest. This rock is split in two along its length. Local legend says the body of a particularly wicked man was laid there. God took exception to this and struck the stone with a thunderbolt, destroying the coffin and splitting the stone in two.

As today is celebrated as Memorial Day here in the United States of America, I find it fitting to post this image captured inside St. Pancras church. From this tiny Devon village, came ten brave men who gave their lives for Britain in the two World Wars.

Enjoy your Memorial Day holiday..............and please remember our brave service men and women, both past and present....this is the true meaning of the day.

A day on Dartmoor

..............................'A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound.......fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame.' Inspired perhaps by the folk legend of the fiery-eyed black Wisht Hounds, which hunt with the Devil on his headless horse in Wistman's Wood, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle began writing The Hound of the Baskervilles while staying on Dartmoor.

Just a short drive through the rolling green and gold hills of traditional farmland fields girded with drystone walls and hedgerows, one enters Dartmoor National Park. Climbing to the summit of a high tor, one stands on rock that has been 280 million years in the making. This is the land of my childhood, a beautiful and sometimes savage landscape, a place of weekend picnics, Sunday School outings, nature walks.......and those legendary tales of several horror novels.

With its gorse and heather covered moorland, deep wooded gorges, tumbling rocky rivers, thriving market towns and villages, patchwork farmland and craggy granite tors, the park covers 368 square miles - the largest, wildest, area of open country in southern England.

Dartmoor isn't just wild, it's special too. There are nature reserves, sights of Special Scientific Interest, endangered birds and rare plants, and thousands of archaeological sites, including burial chambers, stone circles and menhirs (tall standing stones) - more than anywhere else in Europe. There are remains of mines and quarries, ruined castles. medieval abbeys, ancient churches and bridges.

Pull on your wellies (Wellington boots), the land can be boggy, the heather and gorse prickly, and I'll take you across the High Moors, the central area.


A typical farm on the edge of the moor.

Sheep with their newborn lambs covered the hillside pastures.....................

........................even rested on the moorland roadways, stubborn creatures who refused to move...........

.........and took frequent lunch breaks along the stony walls.

Some showers dampened the day and pictures were taken through raindrops as we cruised across the moorland.
There have been ponies here since 2,000BC. They are untamed but not wild, and are marked with brands, ear tags and ear cuts to identify their owners. Numbers have declined over the last 50 years from 30,000 to less than 3,000, yet they are essential for moorland ecology. I clearly recall newspaper photos from my childhood years showing ponies weathering the Winter snows on the high moor.The magnificent white water of the River Dart is downstream from this area around Dartmeet and Fingle Bridge. On warm Summer afternoons I often picnicked along these banks with friends.

Next time I'll continue the Dartmoor day..............a famous village with a song, and a search for the perfect Devon Cream Tea.................
......................see you in Widecombe-in-the-Moor.

Back to Basics ~ The Garden

The clock counts off the hours. Days of languishing in a foreign land soon become memories. It's back to the familiar schedule, the usual daily chores loom ever present.

The garden grew...did it ever! Pollen continued to quietly pile in the corners dusting everything with yellow. Empty feeders kept the birds at bay, how wonderful when they return within minutes of being refilled. The baby wrens had 'flown the coop' leaving their tidy nest in the kitchen window box..........which now needs replanting with Summer flowers. Summer is on the way. Soon the heat will become oppressive, but for now the mornings are still cool and garden chores are pleasant. The beauty is somewhat blowzy, overgrown, untidy, but gorgeous in a secret garden way. Pruning and trimming will be the order of the day. Old clothes, hair tucked into a hat, soft cotton gloves, and bug repellent at the ready.........those dastardly mosquitoes are back.

Sun is shining, robins chirping, flowering Jasmin perfumes the air.

I'm off to play in the dirt!!!!

All images from the May garden.

Stunning Merlewood House

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Built in 1840, this Grade II listed Victorian 'Gentleman's residence' is elegant, spacious and beautifully equipped, offering comfort and peace in all its en-suite bedrooms.....................words so true from the Merlewood House brochure.

If you've ever stayed in B&B's, especially in Europe, you may have been disappointed at times. I've hit some really awful ones over the years, dingy, grubby, even creepy. Finding this beautiful place to stay in my home town - remember I no longer have a family house there - was a bonus this trip.

Wendy, a fabulous hostess and most interesting woman, made our three night stay at the end of our visit, elegant and comfortable and we became immediate friends. (Later I'll share the beautiful historic gardens she drove us to on our last day in Devon).

Wendy (left) and I became instant friends.

Needless to say, Wendy's home, dripping with chandeliers - you know I LOVE chandeliers and crystals - beautiful furnishings, fabrics and wallcoverings, spoke to me as I entered through the welcoming Gothic front door and passed through into the stunning dining room. This was a true home away from home................one I knew I would enjoy for its beauty and cleanliness, perfumed candles..........................

..................and DH for the "Full English" breakfast Wendy cooked in her great kitchen and placed before him on the elegant table set with a fabulous collection of Portmerion china and accessories....................well actually he enjoyed her company for more than her cooking skills, he feels she's HIS new friend too!

Upstairs, Wendy let us choose from three beautifully appointed spacious en-suite bedrooms. Besides the most comfortable bed, we had a great bathroom with large walk-in shower, towel warmer, terry robes, and windows that opened on to the garden allowing bracing morning fresh air.
Laura Ashley silk drapes and wallpaper.......and yet another glittering chandelier made the bedroom lovely...and the view into the Spring garden was pleasant.

As if all the loveliness of this Bed & Breakfast wasn't enough, there's more.

Wendy heads a full service Training Consultancy and in her treatment room does Reflexology and other relaxing and pampering treatments. If you've never had Reflexology performed on your poor old, tired, and well traveled feet, you have missed out on an hour of perfection while listening to soothing music and breathing in subtle scented air. Both DH and I had a session and thoroughly recommend it.

Merlewood House is a hidden jewel in my home town (Torquay, Devon). If you are fortunate enough to visit this seaside resort, or have friends who may be looking for a truly lovely place to stay during a trip, I highly recommend Wendy's beautiful B&B..........like me, you will not be disappointed.

www.merlewoodhouse.co.uk

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Walking at dawn........

I sensed, on my first evening, after unpacking and wandering through the beautiful house, that early mornings would be calling to me......................come out into the fresh sea air, breathe in the salty scent of home, relive childhood on the shore, smell perfumed flowers, and sigh while climbing up through sloping bluebell woods.

First to awake, I seemed to be roused each morning by hefty pigeons and often magpies, who cooed from the balustrade. On the south coast of England, daylight comes very early in Spring, filling the room with watery sunlight, reminding one to enjoy the quietness of the dawn before early showers or clouds roll in across the English Channel. I quietly left the house.

Climbing up from the garden..................................

.............................I was soon above the bay. The scene across the water, often seen cast in gold when I've visited in Autumn when sunrise comes later, was silvered like a vintage photo plate. The glitter of the water back lit the tropical foliage which thrives in the mild climate of Devon.

Clambering to the top past ancient trees, their trunks gnarled and mossy, plants such as tiny dandelions, competed with tall cow parsley and a myriad of shade loving green plants.

The pathway, mostly softly mulched, had ancient steps in steep places making the climb easier.

Looking down as the trees thinned I could see across the Channel toward France. Several ships were at anchor, tankers apparently awaiting the price of oil to rise........even paradise has its modern touch.

Arriving at the top of the cliff, the Sweet Chestnut trees were brilliant in their new Spring green and I took time to sit and view the lovely valley below

More walks, drives and fabulous scenery to share with you later.

Many thanks to all who've left such generous comments during my trip....I love to share the beauty of England, my homeland, with you.