Thomas Hardy walked here. Do some of these trees remember him? Did this ground feel the touch of the soles of his shoes, and did the stones hear his literary and poetic whisperings as he conjured up stories and poems? Do the leaves in their cyclical existence of life and death carry within themselves memories of his face in moments of creative struggle and insight? Thomas Hardy walked here and the Woods still remember.
There’s a story behind this wonderful Magnolia in our garden. It was planted by the previous owner in memory of her Mother who passed away. Every Spring when this plant is in full bloom, our neighbour, who knew the daughter well, has it photographed and sends the image to the daughter, who now lives in Germany. What a joy it is for us to share in this act of memory and to look after this magnificent Magnolia.
There’s something wonderful about ruins. They speak of age, memory and past lives, and stand as a living protest against time’s destruction. There’s a dignity about them, even in their decaying and worn-out appearance.
These ruins are part of the old Scotney Castle in Kent. Loved our visit there. Took this shot with my iPhone.