Tag Archives: Cornwall

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July 4th – Everything But The Fireworks

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We have guests from America here for one more day and we’re off in a few minutes to squeeze as much of Cornwall as we can into their last day. Yesterday was a rocking July 4th for us right down to an end of the evening sing-a-long. I’ll be back later with some funny pictures … (I only took about 300) and some stories to share. I hope your day was as memorable as mine.

If you celebrated the July 4th holiday, I’d love to hear about it and if you’re a blogger and wrote about your day on your site, feel free to leave a link.

* I took the flower shot above yesterday because it made me think of fireworks with all of the bursts of color in the background.

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My Changing Perspective On Finding Community

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When my husband and I met for the first time in person only six weeks after meeting online, I came to him. I had loads of frequent flyer miles and two weeks of vacation time that I would lose if I did not use it before the end of that month so off I went to England to meet the man I had found quite by accident online.

I had no idea what to expect really even though I had seen photographs of John and Cornwall and even bits of his house and the village, I still did not have a real feeling of what life was like there.

While there are some properties that have parts as old as the 12th or 14th century in the village, we live in a more modern section with many of the houses around us being only twenty or so years old and our home a very young one at thirteen years.

Seeing the houses built so tightly together with so much open land all around them was a surprise to me. I’m not sure why exactly, but I remember thinking at first what a shame it was that the houses were so close. I considered how difficult it must be to feel as if you had any privacy with the houses built as they were.

The view was beautiful though and I was able to see a far distance over the village from my early morning position on the sofa where I would sit with my laptop and write. Blessed with all this beauty I still grumbled to myself about how, as pretty as it was, it would be prettier without the rooftops of other houses.

Can you believe I actually thought that! Let me tell you what’s different about my view now. After living here off and on for most of 2008 and continually since 2009, I’ve settled in and met and made friends with many of the people sheltered underneath those rooftops I once moaned about interfering with my view.

Thanks to days like this and people in the community who reach out to care each other in good weather and bad, I’ve had a chance to meet my neighbors and really learn what it means to be one. I’ve lived so many places in my life and I have become great friends with some people who lived close by, but there’s something different about living in a community as small as this where people come together in the pub, village hall, church and even the village shop.

Finding your own sense community can be difficult due to time and responsibilities. Most of us have too little of the first and too much of second, but if we’re open to looking at things a bit differently we might be surprised by how easy it can be to shift our perspective.

The other day when John was up on the roof working on the house, he encouraged me to climb up and have a look at the view. What I realized standing up there was how differently those rooftops look now that I know the people living beneath them and how much richer my life is for the closeness I feel not just in their physical proximity, but also in the kind way they’ve welcomed me into the community.

I’ve included a rooftop view to help illustrate my new perspective. What about you … is there anything in your life that could benefit from a shift in perspective?

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Altarnun Church – Cathedral Of The Moors

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Photo by John Winchurch

Alternun Church is known as the Cathedral of the Moors and while from the outside it looks at a glance like many other parish churches in Cornwall, this one has tower which is 109 feet tall (3rd tallest in Cornwall) and is partly constructed of moorstone which is not quarried stone, but granite lying about on the moor. The original church of St. Nonna was Norman and built in the 12th century, but only a few pieces still remain. Named after after the mother of St David who left her native Wales around 527, the church as you see it now was built in the 15th century.

In the photograph just above and below you can see a Celtic cross from the 6th century which would have been standing during St Nonna’s time.

The Celtic cross is to the left of the church gates.

Moving inside the church the first thing you see is the light from the long row of windows and the faces on the huge font below.

The baptismal font is one of the few remaining pieces from the 12th century church and according to a church guide written by William Kneebone (parish vicar from 1936 to 1967) is typical of the late Norman style. The faces and radial motif along with the square shape are typical of the period in contrast to the rounded fonts favored during the Saxon period.

I think they look fairly fierce in a simple sort of way.

I can’t imagine having a baby baptized over a font that has been in use since the 12th century.

One of the things this church is known for and one reason John wanted to see it was the collection of carved bench ends. These are also unusual in that the work is signed. As you can see above, the 79 bench ends were carved by Robart Daye during the years 1510-1530. Some are traditional Christian symbols.

Some depict scenes from the renaissance period like the medieval fiddle above.

On this one you see a jester which seems an interesting choice for a church bench.

Some of them have had the faces destroyed.

This box was interesting in that not only was it dated 1684 based on the carving you see, but it was still in use. There’s loads more in this church that is historical and interesting. To read more about it you can go here or come to Cornwall to see it for yourself.

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Altarnun – Pausing To See More Than A Road Sign

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As is often the way here there are unexpected surprises sometimes waiting just around the next bend in the road. John and I took the time to discover one a few weeks ago. For as long as John has lived in Cornwall, Alternun has been just another name on small roadside sign, one of many villages scattered just off the A-30 as it snakes it’s way through Cornwall all the way to Land’s End where it does what everything does there, it ends.

While he is often given to impromptu side trips to explore new places, John had never taken the turn to the village below. Last Christmas his cousin Mary came to stay with us for the holiday and while she was here shared a story with him about this sweet little village that had been one of her mother’s favorites. Cousin Mary if you remember is 87 and has had a fondness for Cornwall since she first came here as a child. As we were driving back from an errand in another village John saw the sign and detoured taking us straight off the A-30 to see Alternun.

We parked near the church which has an interesting history that I’ll share here in a post here tomorrow.  For now I’ll take you on a little walking tour around the village. The bridge above was built in the 15th century and is known as the packhorse bridge.

John took this photograph from a grassy patch near the village hall. The church tower is tucked just behind the trees on the left and the building in front is a row of cottages.

This sweet little bridge as I said earlier is called a packhorse bridge and not wide enough for cars.

This was taken from the packhorse bridge and that is John in the striped shirt off in the distance near where he stood while taking the second photograph in this post.

Just over the footbridge you see this memorial to those who died in several wars. In the distance you can see a row of cottages with the one on the end having a big garden. This is all right in the heart of the village which adds even more visual interest.

Here’s another view looking down the main street.

See the monument in the shadows of the right corner, this row of cottages is to the right of it.

Here is a shot of that pretty little veggie patch I mentioned.

I found this row of cottages pretty interesting. There was a small running stream right underneath the stone slate footbridges that led to each front door. I asked John if these were designed this way in order to dump waste into the stream for removal when originally built … he was not sure, but it did seem likely to us both.

This had to be one of the best looking rural phone boxes I’ve seen in Cornwall. With cell phones so accessible and in wide use the need for pay phones is not really necessary. People have protested the removal of the easily recognizable red phone booths based on how they’ve come to be symbolic images associated with the UK and while they stay in place for now, most are beginning to look pretty uncared for.

I’m not sure about this building, I’ll need to go back sometime soon to ask some questions about the history of the buildings from some locals. It was very quiet when we were there and so I came away with lots of questions and little answers.

John graciously agreed to pose next to this door so you could see how low the entrance was. No one lives here now and it could use some renovation and repair.

This may not look too odd to some of you … just and old farmhouse cottage across the street in a Cornish village in southwest England until you notice that silver thing with the bell hanging off the back end of it. Hmm … this might look familiar to any Americans reading this post.

Yep, I do believe that says U.S. Mail on it which seems so out of place in Altarnun particularly with the word cottage on the wall behind it. Someone has removed the red flag normally found on the side of the mailbox. I like the use of the bell as an alert.

If you look behind the row of cottages you can see the church on the hill. Just inside the gate is a Celtic cross said to date to the 6th century. Remember … come back tomorrow for a little show and tell as to what makes this church so special.

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Would You Lay With Me In A Field Of Flowers And Stone

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St Genny's in Cornwall

While out on a drive yesterday, John took a detour and quite by accident we ended up at a place we might have never found had we not been up for a little adventure.

St Genny’s Church

Photo by John Winchurch

In a clear departure from my normal behavior, I did not take any photographs of the inside of St. Genny’s, but John got a nice one from the back center aisle.

I followed the path to the right of St Genny’s around the corner to see the surprise below.

Walking between the church and a stand of trees shading several rows of ornate gravestones, I stepped out into a place that took my breath away with the perfect beauty of all.

John had gone inside the church looking for me and after coming around the corner, caught up with me here on this hill.

He walked with a stride and purpose that I’ve seen before as he came straight up the hill to the place where I was standing. Reaching for me without saying a word, he kissed me with the kind of kiss that felt like a sweet benediction in what seemed like a holy place of rest. I thought nowhere could a woman feel more loved than I did then and we stood quietly together for another minute admiring the view from this field of flowers and stone.

As we turned to walk on I asked him if he’d seen a John and Elizabeth yet, because I know from experience now that there’s always a John and Elizabeth lying together in every churchyard we visit and no sooner did I finish the question then I saw two stones next to where he was standing. I smiled as I noticed that he happened to be standing in front of John the husband’s gravestone while I was closest to Elizabeth’s.

I would have photographed him where he stood, but sometimes I get a bit superstitious about photographing the living in a memorial for the dead. Except for wedding day photographs like ours below.

Elizabeth Harper & John Winchurch - Wedding Day - 2-2-2009

After seeing the graves of John and Elizabeth Marshall, we climbed to the top corner of the churchyard for a longer view …

… and noticed this sweet little bench tucked up near the wall.

It was a perfect place to sit and think.

There were wild flowers growing everywhere and not so much in the way of cut flowers,

… but I did find this tender message of love and memory on one grave.

It you’d like to know more about St Genny’s church, I found a wonderful blog post from a woman named Jan Windle who spent several days nearby and did some interesting research complete with detailed photographs. It’s well worth a look.

*Note that she speaks first about St Juliot, a church associated with Thomas Hardy before going on to St Genny’s.

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Pirates Come To Cornwall

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I’m a bit short on words today so my pictures will have to tell the story. I missed a few activities and didn’t get shots of everything, but I think you’ll be able to see that the children seemed to have a great time at the party yesterday. I was amazed watching them play in a place so beautiful and so close to where we live. I run past this spot which is just off the Camel trail. I can’t imagine what it must be like to grow up with all this nature around them.

If you closely at this photo, you can see ducks in the river and cows in the meadow.

The river is to the left in this shot of the tables and the field is a fine one for play. The woods in the distance were used to hide two of the treasure boxes.

The bottle with the map was hidden near these rocks which are across from the picnic tables.

Here comes the first wave of pirates with John and Jersey Girl joining in the procession.

A little snack before the work of treasure hunting begins.

Pirate Queen  ‘Miss S’

Pirates making a plan.

Finding the map.

Opening the bottle to get to the treasure map.

Finding one of three hidden treasure boxes.

The littlest pirate waits for a hand while the others follow the map to search the ferns.

You can see the gold and silver find in the ‘crystal’ box in the pirates hand.

Time for some video before moving on.

These two were the first ones in the water.

Then the girls began to edge around it too.

Muddy, you don’t know muddy until you’ve played with these two.

Here’s a couple of pirate moms taking a seat across from the river where the pirates are getting muddy and wet.

One of John looking a bit sea going himself.

One of a few games that they played although I’m not sure what they doing.

This is the book and clue I mentioned yesterday which led them to the treasure map. I’ll be a bit more chatty when I’ve recovered from the week.  Thanks for your interest in the party and I hope the photographs give you a sense of the afternoon.

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Wanted – Treasure Hunters & Map Readers

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Captain Pete was a pirate who sailed far and wide

and like other pirates had something to hide.

After taking the treasure from ships passing by

he buried it deep in the Cornish countryside.

There’s a river they call the Camel I hear

it was there he would go when trouble was near.

So dig if you must or look for a map,

with so much time past, he’s not coming back.

If you search near the river, you’ll find an old bottle or box

it’s there I’ve heard tell, tucked deep in the rocks.

With an old map to guide you, there’ll be nothing to fear

just use it to help you find all he held dear.

Today is our last full day with Jersey Girl and we’ve planned a little pirate themed party along the river with some children from the village. I’m putting the last touches on the treasure map and I created the little verse above that will be written in a moment on some coffee stained paper I baked in the oven yesterday. I plan to tuck it in an old copy of Treasure Island and let the children read it at the river after we discover it hidden in the pages of the book.

I’ve been busy baking and making a variety of yummy treats and to use as a treasure in boxes of sweets … oops, sorry about that, I just can’t seem to stop rhyming. I’ll be back to normal tomorrow just wait and see, there’ll no more bad rhymes, written by me.  Arguh!

Somebody stop me, I can’t help myself

perhaps I should leave the children’s books on the shelf.

I’ve become quite addicted, with no self-control

All this rhyming and writing has taken its hold.

I may need a clinic, a place I can stay

like the Betty Ford one I’ve heard people say,

is the place they would go if they got carried away.

It ‘s not about drugs or drinking too much,

it’s wordstuck I am and losing my touch.

For my old way of writing the things I would say,

‘ Hello, can you help me, I’ve quite lost my way.’

My addiction to rhyming has overwhelmed me so

I think I shall need one of those places to go.

I’ve forgotten all the things that I used to know,

all the grownup worries that bothered me so.

They disappeared with the diet I’ve struggled to keep,

it’s like that you know when children stay for a week.

After Jersey Girl sadly leaves us tomorrow,

I’ll go back to plain living with words that will follow.

A boring old grownup with games still to play

I’ll pack them all up for the next rainy day.

When John and I sit inside staying dry

I might make up a story, I’ll be tempted to try.

It will be fun to remember I’m sure you’ll agree,

as we sort through the photos from our week with JG.

We’ll laugh and remember how she was with us in May

and plan for the next time, our Jersey Girl comes to stay.

Thanks to all of you who joined us for our week of fun. I’ll be back tomorrow with some more from our day, but no more rhymes I promise, when I’m having my say. Oops! There I go again. It’s pitiful really, I mean it’s like I’m channeling a bad version of Dr Seuss.

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Boris The Bear Tells Himself A Story

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In the window at home there’s a sweet little bear,

slightly tattered, not torn, but missing some hair.

He sits kind of floppy, and propped with a view,

watching and waiting and thinking of you.


A bear you can see by his worn looking face

that’s been treasured and favored

with his own special place.

Loved from the beginning,

he’s been very well fed

on the dreams of girl

and all the things in her head.

He’s enjoyed the all pleasures of years

two, three, four, five, and soon six,

he’s her favorite he knows,

the one she always picks.


But today is somehow different,

someone’s taken his place,

it’s that silly old Pooh Bear who’s crowding his space.

Beside his dear girl as she goes for the day

he wonders what they’re up to

missing her greatly

in his bear sort of way.


Growing up can be scary for a bear on his own

he’s been a faithful companion and rarely alone.

He sits and he watches and wishes she’d phone.

‘ I am here and I miss you,’ is just what he’d say,

‘ Will you be home soon, are you on your way? ‘


He knows it’s silly to be sad and so blue

as her little girl heart can love much more

than a old bear or two.

One day when she’s older

with hair that’s gone grey

she’ll have trouble remembering

things like his name,

when she got him,

or the games that they played.


He’s heard all the stories

from bears on the street

when the children aren’t looking

and they’ve a moment to speak.

They whisper in passing

of changes to come,

but for now he’s still Boris,

and her number one.

Yesterday after a long day out, I noticed Jersey Girl’s favorite bear Boris sitting in the window. He’d been left there in the morning by JG posed on the window ledge so that he could see outside while she was out exploring with us. I was lucky to see him when I did managing to get two quick shots before she grabbed him up to join us at the table for dinner. She didn’t know I was outside taking pictures and in the second photograph, you can just make out her ear and the side of her face as she is reaching for him.

I began the little bear story this morning and what came out has as much to do with my relationship with an old stuffed bunny from my childhood as it does with Jersey Girl and Boris, her bear. This is one of the things I love most about writing, you begin a story thinking it is about one thing and suddenly another story begins to reveal itself along the way.

I would be interested to know if you remember a favorite toy or stuffed animal and can you remember its name ?

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Budding Director Captures The Moment

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Look closely at the image below and you should be able to see two figures in the distance, one in red and one in blue. If you can’t see them, click on the image to make it larger and if after that you still can’t see them, go get your glasses and give it another try.

Okay, now for the brief backstory … John and I took Jersey Girl down to the river today so I could decide where to hide the clues for my treasure hunt on Wednesday. As I was taking pictures of hiding places and counting off paces and writing down the details needed for creating a treasure map, I happened to look up and notice that in the distance there was something happening that looked kind of interesting. So I snapped a series of photographs that after viewing I just had to share.

When we first walked through the meadow, I tried to teach JG how to hold a blade of grass between her thumbs and blow on to make a series of bird sounds. After working our way through multiple blades of grass with little success, we decided to try again later. When I saw JG with John’s video camera in hand, I knew that John was probably putting the lesson on tape.

Seeing him lift his hands up and hearing him make a few sounds that sounded a bit like a squawk confirmed what I had been thinking and I was glad that I had managed to catch their cute interaction if only from a distance.

The shot below was the one I couldn’t see clearly due to the distance, but by some bit of luck I managed to snap the image of a little budding director giving her granddad the thumbs up sign signaling a successful capture.

I can almost hear her saying, ” Got it, well done, Bapa. “

While the pictures above make me chuckle at the easy confident interaction I’ve witnessed many times between them, it’s the one below that makes my heart feel tender. I haven’t see the video JG made of her Bapa today, but from the look on their faces while reviewing the footage, I think it will certainly be something to remember.

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Going Nowhere In Particular

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Sometimes when you look outside the window and you see the sky is a brilliant shade of blue for the first time in days, you feel the need to get out even though you have no idea where you want to go. So you slip on your shoes or you tie up the laces of your boots and you grab your camera and head out the door.  Saturday was just such a day … want to see where we went?

John is going on ahead as usual while I hang back to photograph a few macro shots of spring flowers. The forest is full of varying shades of green right now as the leaves are still coming out. Everything seems to be a bit late in the blooming probably due to our colder than normal winter.

Up ahead you have a choice in direction … take the left fork and go up a hill deeper into the woods or …

… if you continue on the main path you begin to see a special place for us. Can you see the sheep through the trees?

The light was perfect as we caught sight of the buttercup field.

Stepping into the meadow, we could see some bluebells to our right near the river’s edge.

As John was walking into the buttercup field, I told him I almost expected to see Thomas Hardy walking towards us with Tess trailing behind him.

I thought I we might spy Elizabeth Bennet out for a walk with her sisters just ahead, but John and I were the only two legged creatures around as we passed by the fat sheep munching in the meadow.

We discovered the reason for the lengthy ringing of the church bells earlier in the day when we saw the flowers arranged over the doorway to our parish church. Notice that someone cut the grass, but only part of it for some reason, making it look as if like they might have stopped for a break and not come back to finish the job.

The mix of flowers above the doorway was really lovely and I almost expected to see Marianne coming out on the arm of Colonel Brandon.

Inside were more flowers including a circlet around each of the pillars.

The flowers were a delightful mix of wild and cultivated providing a few photo opportunities.

I can never resist shooting from outside in even if the panes of old glass are a bit in need of a wash. I love the reflected surprises that can show up later when reviewing them.

After church, we stopped by the pub for a pint. I had my usual diet lemonade (like diet Sprite) while John sampled the special of the day.

If we didn’t live within walking distance, perhaps we might have talked the owner of this classic MG into giving us a lift home. Notice the church in the background … the white cottage in front of it is for sale if you’re interested in relocating or having a holiday home in Cornwall.

We’re having perfect weather again today and I’m off in a minute. Where am I going you may ask … nowhere in particular would have to be my reply, but it’s sure to be good wherever my feet lead me.