Monthly Archives: July 2017

This silence!

If silence had a colour attached to it,it would be Green to me.As I sit in the holiday cottage on Exmoor,I’m surrounded by silence the like of which I have rarely experienced before.Please don’t get me wrong,I’m not complaining,as it’s very submergence helps me figure out what sounds are truly important to me.

That interplay between sound and silence is heightened in a place like this where is isn’t any noise pollution,where the solitary bird rings out in the trees as a solo by a rising diva but without the floral tributes and rasping applause.This voluntary singing by out feathered friends is such a joy to observe,the purity of it,and especially in the mornings.Outside the conservatory window,bees and butterflies do their stuff,their ingatherng ,their flight foraging,away from the city buzz of combustion bees .

As the river Ex wends its way ,its talks to me in patterns of waters over stones and Peebles with its reach into my mind ,turning the cigs of my imagination in a mill-wheel,grinding the seeds of my thoughts to spark a new plant of impression and maybe flower to sustain my cerebral output when I return to the town for whence I came.

Yes,we can,and must,feed off of the silence,for out of it comes the best music,the pulses of our life to make sen e of why we are who we are.

So,as I hear the gunshot in the distance,I refuse to relent on my love for the countryside,and refuse that allow my access of it to be dictated too by the gunshot.As I await my visit to Tarr steps,I will observe that Exmoor gem in its company of so many others,appreciating that ,to me,Exmoor offers up a place of solace amidst the noise of confusion and chatter that is ,in many ways,life in 2017.

Advertisements

I’ve Walked a fair way today,I’ve walked a fair way.

I’ve walked a fair way today,

I’ve walked a fair way.

Through field,over stile ,uphill and down dale,

I’ve walked a fair way,

My fit-bit tells me it’s 8 miles,I say it’s like 28,

I’ve walked a fair way,

Now,to put it mildly,I’m a little tired,

I’ve walked a fair way today,I’ve walked a fair way,

Along the coast road from Minehead towards Porlock,what a shock,

My Poor hocks,my Poor shins,I’m in the shin bin,

I’ve walked a fair way today,

I’ve walked a fair way.

This quiet place.

Exmoor ,that jewel in the crown of National Parks has in so many ways ,captured the essence of its own individuality .This little cottage,set in a traditional garden of Englishness,that is,hedgerows ,climbing roses and honeysuckle .Its like sharing with the hares and Rabbits and other furry friends that inhabit this place.There doesn’t appear to be much corporate sponsors of these hares and friends around here.

From the hill above,deer roam free,uninhibited ,u encumbered ,and just able to be country dwellers I think.You get a sort of understanding that you are only sharing their space when you stay here.

Each village is an individual pulse,a pleasure of country Iiving encased in an understanding of where they fir in the national park.Exmoor isn’t the Peak District,of the Lakes,it is ,without disrespect,small.Its beauty lies in its positioning on the Qua rocks at the Somerset end,and its Devon connections with Lynmouth and Lynton ,and it is ,to me,unique among national parks.

Each wild animal that I have seen appears to be in good c diction,and in particular ,the Ponies,and as someone who was brought up in Cornwall,I’m afraid that there were times when the management of the Ponies on Bodmin moor were so woefully inadequate.

However,as a lifelong fighter against animal blood sports,I don’t agree with the levels of interest in the park among farmers and huntsmen who still feel the need to hunt foxes and I never will do,

We all exist with our consciences ,I suppose,and we all have to stand ,or fall on what we are prepared to tolerate.

However,in the round,Exmoor remains that Jewel in the crown of our national parks,that small gem among so many.
Thank you for reading.
Kerniwsmith.

I don’t know!

I don’t know the names of the birds that sing,

But I know the notes that they sing though.

I don’t know the names of the clouds,

But I get what they make me feel like.

I don’t know the names of the scented flowers,

But I know that they brighten up my days,

I don’t know so many things,that I know,

But I truly know I feel things from the beating of my heart.

So,I guess I know enough eh,

I know enough.