Friday, 26 April 2013

Explorer's notes

This time last week I went exploring. A friend and I heard tales of a derelict house many months ago; it was something neither of us could stop thinking about. She, a photographer, and I decided to go and investigate, to see for ourselves what secrets this mythical house contained. It was all very Famous Five. We were trespassers. At every turn we imagined being sprung, forced to explain ourselves, mercilessly ejected. But all was eerily quiet...

We crunched through dead leaves, brushed past overgrown rose bushes and squeezed between trees in wild woodland. We found snakes head fritillaries, tiny patches of violets and primroses, and the thickest bramble stems I've ever seen. Our feet trod over grass so thick with luminous green moss it felt like a bed for fairytale princess. We emerged through hedging - once formal and clipped, now free and organic - into a paved pool area, which led to a pergola. Lush, green lawns spread out before us and we imagined children rolling down hills, hot summer days spent playing croquet, and games of hide-and-seek that lasted well into the dusky evenings.

The focus of our visit had shifted from house to garden. It bewitched us.

The sky is so big in this part of England.
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