Of one thing you can always be sure, and that is that good weather must follow bad weather, even after weeks of dreary mists & windy tempests.
After writing my last post, the clouds dissolved and both metaphorically and literally and the delicate, autumn sun rays broke through. Writing my last post felt like letting go of a particularly melancholic balloon that attracted lots of sad things and complained bitterly about it’s misfortune. It was as though by confessing something I was almost ashamed to whinge about, I cleared my head and made way for a fresh beginning. This last week has been exhausting but so lovely. It began with a memorable trip to London to photograph an engagement. George & I made a little trip out of it and had such fun exploring the city which is always so divine in the autumn. The next day was an incredibly delightful day. It was the day we received the keys to the little cottage that we are to call home for a period of time and the start of a brand new chapter. It is official, I am no longer a student. I am no longer in the cushy care of loving family who will cook yummy things and do my laundry. I am an adult in possession of independence (at the grand age of 25 eh?) and I’ve no idea what’s going to happen to me or where I’m going to go.
But one thing is for certain: I am living in my beloved Cornwall on a delightful apple farm by the creek and each day I wake to the crow of the cockerel and by night we sleep to the song of the owl. It is wonderful and soothing and so therapeutic, my soul has been needing this for the longest time. And it’s finally happened. We are here and together and it’s wonderful.
I think I sneezed and suddenly we were well into October. All my plans of doing a million, autumny crafty endeavours floated out of the window like a dandy-seed caught on a thermal as halloween quickly approaches and I panic, trying to figure out how to make all-hallows-eve the most possible fun that I can.
Halloween is one of those occasions that I’ve always adored growing up. I think it’s my love of the concept of magic, spookiness & all the nostalgia that comes with it (not that the true tradition of Samhain is founded on any of those things!) but as a kid, I was obsessed with the gothic. Vampires, witches, werewolves, ghosts, banshees… I suppose it mingles into Folklore but young me always loved the thrill of being out in the dark on a balmy, October evening all dressed up like a little Witch and to-ing and fro-ing around our neighbourhood with friends in search of treats. Most Halloweens, we threw family BBQ’s/parties (fancy dress still expected of course) and there’d be games, spooky music and yummy autumnal eats. It was always my favourite celebration of the four annuals (birthday, christmas, easter + halloween) because although in truth, Samhain marks the natural end of old summer and the coming of winter, I do love an excuse to put on Hocus Pocus (one of my favourite films) throw a seasonal feast, celebrate gothic literature/folklore and channel my secret inner gothling who got locked up age 18 when I grew out my black hair dye.
Samhain last year was spent in Edinburgh, the most perfect city for such an atmospheric festival. We watched the Beltane Fire society parade the streets and perform curious displays to the sounds of drums and smells of burning herbs. That was when I proposed to George and I can’t believe it was a year ago. I just don’t know how I’m going to live up to those Halloween standards. I really don’t.
Welcome to our cottage. It’s named after a little bird and is covered in the most autumnal leaves you ever did see. It’s hidden, as though it’s beneath a huge viny hollow, but behind the stone walls, we have unpacked our trinkets, hats and habits. We are indeed so very lucky.
This cat sunbathes on our wall most days. He has a name but I’ve forgotten. Let’s call him Wall Cat for now. His buddy ‘Under My Car Cat’ is just below.
We even have a stable door. My life is complete. Tiny Sarah always fantasised of these doors. I’m not sure why, but there’s such novelty in having a door window that opens.
At the bottom of the apple farm, there is a woodland which leads to a creek. These are the photographs from that time I decided to take a stroll and then accidentally forgot about time and spent 3 hours just wandering around the creekside.
Can you see the face in the rocks above? He sort of looks like a house elf!
Oak leaves are my favourite types of leaves. They’re so pretty and this woodland was filled with Oaks. It’s acorn dropping season which means the floor is littered with adorable little fairy hats to collect. Sadly, this does mean that walking beneath the trees is a risk of being constantly pelted with falling acorns which actually do hurt when they boink you on the head. It’s either gravity or the fairies which are behind it.
As I approached the creek, I could smell the saltwater (for this is a tidal river) and the curious calls of curlews and oyster catchers echoed up the gully. Every so often a chilly breeze tumbled down the river and I was overwhelmed with peace. There seemed to be nobody for miles, I felt truly in the middle of nowhere and so far from all the vexing things like the internet, technology and fluorescent lighting. I wanted to stay here forever. To live here, maybe in a little colourful wagon and make a bonfire. There were remnants of old bonfires; people had already been here. Scores of initials and messages were carved into an aged oak, generations of local kids who had come down here for peace and secrecy. Maybe over a hundred years worth. It was an ancient place. A place that Daphne DuMaurier had once written about and no doubt would conceal generations more of young lovers, host misadventures and peaceful escapes for wayward writers.
I made my way home, delighted that such a place was at the foot of my doorstep. As I made my way along the little drive that leads to the farm I pondered my good fortune. It can’t rain all the time.
This has been a most merry October so far, a reprieve from a tumultuous August and turbulent September. I have a good feeling about winter this year. It’s time to start writing again – I can feel it in my bones.