My Roots.
In my last post I got a bit personal & emotional.
This one goes farther.
This Granite tor is my roots.
I spent the first thirteen years of my life living less than half a kilometre from it, & still live about a kilometre from it.
The heath around it & the disused granite quarry below it where my playground & my nature classroom.
I can remember picking bilberries with my mother when I was five.
Purple stained lips & fingers.
I can remember huddling under the overhang with my first love when the heavens opened. Feeling manly & protective as a curtain of water cascaded around us, although I was still very much a boy.
I can remember the start, then the fascination, when I saw my first adder basking on the rock.
So many memories for one lump of rock & those only mine.
I wonder how many others it holds.
In the foreground you can see Helman Tor. Rear left Rough tor, not pronounced rough but row as in argument. & rear right Brown Willy from Cornish Bronn Wennili, meaning "hill of swallows".
The Cornish backbone.
With my feet on the ground & my head in the clouds I look forward to 2016.
I hope it's a better year for everyone, especially for those I care for.
I raise a glass to the future.
Fabulous pics, I remember climbing Brown Willy with my children when they were small and laughing at the name. Hill of swallows sounds much better.
ReplyDeleteHi Tim & Nicky.
DeleteSorry for the slow reply.
I should set up e-mail notification but I'm a technophobe.
Your comment has made me realise It's time I went back to the hill of swallows. It's been a long time.