Where are we now?

We have sun - lots of sun! We are visiting old haunts. Where are we?

This was once the only way in.

Remind me .....this is summer.

From my gardens.

It's raining again and I do not want to get up. I would rather pull the duvet over my head and doze, listening to the radio murmuring, masking the sound of rain driving at our bedroom window. But I can't, this is a three service Sunday which means I get the early dog walk so that The Curate can get off to church. The rain means socks, wellies and waterproofs - in July - I ask you! 

I have been willing the flowers in our garden to open but I fear this weather will either set them back a bit  - or flatten them. Fortunately I have been photographing the few that dare to open in my shady garden. With the wonder of technology, I can put them all together in this collage (and miraculously duplicate them) and dream of what my garden might be! 

A Dip on Dartmoor

This is not the Tropics. This is not the Caribbean. This is Devon. This is Dartmoor. This is cold! 

My first wild swim and I am smiling.

So ..what's The Curate doing while I kick up my heels?

The Curate at work.

One of the problems of being a teacher is that, unless your partner is also a teacher, you find yourself with holiday time on your hands - which is great. - Not so great for my other half  - The Curate. He was at work this morning (- and not looking at motorbikes on E Bay) so I thought I'd capture it for the records. He was so engrossed, he didn't even notice I had taken the photo. 

The Curate is finding his feet in the parish and covering a number of services as his Boss is on holiday. Finding how the parish works and who does what and when - all takes time. He has had me up at 7.15 on a Sunday morning to help him prepare for the early BCP service because he didn't know if anyone would be there to help. He should have known better as this is an extremely well organised parish and  two people were ready and waiting at the church door. But I didn't mind as it was good to meet another groupof church members.

One of The Curate's roles in the last parish was to visit and offer home communion to those that requested it. This is something that does not seem to happen here but The Curate is still exploring the possibilities because he felt so much was gained during these visits. He also went into schools and spent time within a class - hearing readers and getting to know the children. I had suggested this as the first school assembly can be a frightening affair if there are no allies in the crowd. It also meant that the children could really get to know him and would recognise him as a familiar face should they venture into church . I was most impressed when he regularly spent time in a reception class as well as year 6. He was amazed how the children learned through play and were guided by a very talented teacher. In this parish, he has had to go straight into taking assemblies but the time spent with the children on the North Coast has served him well.

With time on my hands, I have decided to improve my fitness and have joined a sort of gym which is ladies only and you do three circuits of various machines and that's it! Up beat music and a bit of fun as well, might make a bit of difference to my shape - but it also gets me out of the house. It takes some getting used to having The Curate working from home - I mean I can't sit and watch day time TV without feeling guilty (as if I would!)

Arrivals and departures

If God sends you down a stony path,
may he give you strong shoes.

Just over a week ago, The Curate and I were rushing into Terminal 4 at Heathrow airport, both rapidly scanning the sea of faces. We were late - we do not often leave Devon and so we had forgotten how awful the traffic can be - especially on a Friday. I love meeting people at airports - and I love being met. Walking through the doors from customs, loaded with suitcases, you walk out to a crowd of expectant faces and people holding boards with names on them. Spotting your 'meeter and greeter'  brings relief and joy - you have arrived safely! Only this time - we were late for the pick up. So it was with a huge sense of relief to see our eldest son and girlfriend striding through the crowd  - they had seen us first. 

We have had a lovely week with them - both sons and their girlfriends were together for a large family celebration in Essex and then we all returned to Devon. All too soon, it was time to see them off again, back to Dubai via London. Standing at the railway station, I was willing the tears to stay away but the lump in my throat seemed to get larger and larger. Looking up at the departures board, we could see that the train was on time, thankfully - no long drawn out goodbyes with no one knowing what to say. So they go back to their busy lives and, hopefully, we will see them again before too long

This last year seems to have been full of departures and arrivals. I have reached the end of my school year and the year 6 children are leaving for the next stage of their education. This is always a poignant time for children and staff. The children are departing as the oldest children in the school and will be arriving at the next stage of education as the youngest. They will have to learn the rules of survival and make new friends. It can be a difficult time for some and others breeze into it with ease.

And so it is in life - the comings and goings don't seem to come to an end. Some are easier to cope with than others. Some are more painful than others but how sad a world it would be if we always maintained that British 'stiff upper lip' and didn't show some emotion. It reminds me of a picture of parents waving evacuated children off on the trains out of London - stoic and resigned to doing the best for their children. Raw emotions would not have helped here but I bet many a parent went home and wept.

Service spouses have more than their fair share of arrivals and departures - and they do not get any easier with time. I never got used to all the comings and goings - the actual parting was the worst. Once gone, I learned to click into my other roles and get on with life. The Curate and I thought we were experienced enough to manage the three/four year curacy living in different places. We learned that we were not. On that Sunday when our leaving from our last parish was announced, The Curate told the congregation that it broke his heart to be leaving that church but, each Monday, his heart was broken when I left for the south coast. I wept (much to my embarrassment!).

An Irish Prayer 

May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

Searching for that wild swim.

 

We have been searching Dartmoor for swimming spots because I am a bit of a water rat and when (if ) the weather warms up, I will need to be near water. Living next to the sea and being able to go for a quick surf or swim was fantastic for the last two years. Now we are by the moor I am setting myself the challenge to find some of the wild swimming places.

The other day we followed this river until we came to a beautiful pool. We didn't swim but it looked inviting. It is very, very cold at the moment - a few minutes paddling and I couldn't feel my toes! I guess I'm going to have to harden up!

Blowing away the cobwebs on the Higher Godsworthy Road, Dartmoor

There is a glorious stillness to Dartmoor on a grey day. The sheet of monotone, slate cloud that stretches all around, appears to isolate us from all sound - until a single sky lark, disturbed from its dust bath, soars into the sky  and showers us with its joyful song.

 

The song jolts us out of our lethargy and we quicken our pace - keen to reach the summit of Cox Tor. Slowly the sky clears to a brilliant blue - the like of which we have not see for days and there is a sense of urgency- in case the cloud returns and views lose their clarity. 

The dogs run on ahead of us, occasionally turning to check we are keeping up. They love this open moorland. The Collie is always keen to lead the way. Our 14 year old Lakeland seem to sense this is the type of terraine her breed was meant for and she still tries to leap from boulder to boulder. Her head is willing but, sadly, her legs often are not. But typically of her breed, she keeps going, finding ways around the rocks and snacking on the fresh sheep droppings!

As always, our ascent is watched by wary natives, this year wearing red designer coats. Despite hiding behind rocks - they are easily spotted. We keep the dogs under close supervision and they (very slowly) amble away. The Lakeland is trembling with excitement - in her mind, she thinks she can still chase anything that turns tail and runs. (Click on the photos to enlarge.)

 
You can see how quickly the weather can come in. The clouds are building and views may disappear but we are with in reach of the Tor. The views are worth the walk.

 What better way to clear the head than to just stand and stare?