I saw this wall at “The Friars” a Carmelite Priory. I loved the light and the scattered leaves, but the wall seemed a little intimidating. I was reminded of a section of Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall.”
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
This is the Peace garden at The Friars, an ancient Carmelite Priory in Aylesford, Kent. I have often sat in this garden and left through those doors with a perspective far different from the one I came in with. For me, it’s one of those special places we all have, where we find balance, sanity and direction.
Sometimes the path is just too straight and predictable, and the goal too clear. We need the surprises of twists and turns and the mysteries of hills and valleys.
These pylons may look a little out place in the fields of Kent, but the longer I’ve been aware of them the more they’ve become part of the landscape.
Chartwell, the country home of Winston Churchill, where he found homeliness, peace and clarity of thought, and much inspiration through his insatiable need to paint. In spite of all the controversy surrounding him, he remains a great figure who shaped so much of our history.
Have you ever had the experience of walking through a sun-drenched landscape and suddenly seeing it being dulled by the build-up of storm clouds on the horizon? The light remains, but it gradually becomes filtered through an ominous grey and you find yourself between two worlds, a kind of a twilight zone with something of the colour drained out of it. It has often happened to me and each time I’ve found it to be such an enchanting experience. The image above was such a moment while walking in the fields near Horton Kirby in Kent. Also, there’s just something about a dead tree against the background of fierce and threatening storm clouds.
Standing in front of Chartwell, Winston Churchill’s home, and looking across the Kent landscape towards the Southern coastal region of England. One of those moments where I was once again overwhelmed by the beauty and expansiveness of the scene before me. I was reminded of the words of Carl Sagan: “For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.”
They’ve lived there for years under these expansive skies and have witnessed the beauty of many a sunset, sunrise and harvest. Now, as they gaze out to the horizon, time is short. Soon they too will be a memory. They once lived there, people will say.
The water was still, the air crisp, and two crows squawked their way through the sky.
I love this time of day – sunset over our neighbourhood. You can hear the voices and the laughter of people sitting in their gardens, the air rich with the smell of barbecues and the sound of clinking wine glasses, life at rest and embraced by the solace and comforts of home.