The beautiful hedgerows of Cornwall

I love this David Hockney, called Tunnel2, it’s so much like the lane to Lower Barns.  I see so many similarities and particularly love the dappled light through the trees.

At this time of year I find the hedgerows amazing. The wild abundance of it all and all the life it contains and attracts and the noise of the bees and insects going about their business.

So often, my gaze follows just one plant, like cow parsley and then so suddenly there is a burst of colour and it’s fox gloves in front of me and everywhere. Of course, in Cornwall at this time of year, you really know it’s summer when the valerian is shooting up everywhere, not afraid of anything.

You don’t have to walk far through the lanes surrounded by these tall and beautiful hedgerows before you find a gateway to a field and some amazing views are revealed.

How lucky to be totally surrounded by all this. Whatever time of year it always looks beautiful.

A friend of mine, her Grandmother, Kathleen Hawke, was a Cornish Bard and dialectician, she wrote a poem about her love of Cornwall. It’s written in Cornish dialect, as spoken in Poldark.

Ower Dear Ole County Ow Cornwall

Ower dear ole county ow Cornwall

Es nearly surrounded by say

With the ansumest shades an’ colours

On aw beautiful zummery day.

Theers’ greens an’ blues an’ helios,

You never seed such aw sight

Watch out fur tha yallas, reds an’ golds

When tha sun goes down at night.

We abeen gawt no gate big mountains

‘Cus Brown Willie edn ole that high

But dawn’t ee try ta raich tha top

Onless ‘tez aw cloudless sky

Ower ‘adges in spring are aw joy ta see

With tha celandines golden hue

Theers’s masses an’ masses aw primroses

An’ shy lil’ vilets too

Nex’ comes aw ‘ost ow campions

As purty as can be

Mixed in with bluebells an’ stitchworts

‘Tez aw ‘ansum sight to see.

I love to just wander along, get lost in thought and be transported straight back to childhood by the sights, smells and colours.

Another lovely poem by Ted Hughes, describes the beauty of the fern, not to be lost in the hedgerows against the vibrant colours of it’s neighbours.

Fern

Here is the fern’s frond, unfurling a gesture,

Like a conductor whose music will now be pause

And the one note of silence

To which the whole earth dances gravely.

The mouse’s ear unfurls its trust,

The spider takes up her bequest,

And the retina

Reins the creation with a bridle of water.

And, among the, the fern

Dances gravely, like the plume

Of a warrior returning, under the low hills,

Into his own kingdom.

I know that many of our guests at Lower Barns arrive from the city, in need of rest and relaxation and it can be trying to be on country lanes where sat nav struggle to be reliable. It takes a surprisingly small amount of time for people to adjust, once they have arrived and enjoy what is on offer for free in this great county, that we are so proud of.

Maybe you would like to add a poem, a picture or a photo on our blog, to share thoughts and memories that you have about our cornish landscape.

Many thanks for looking.

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