A crispy, icy day, as we drove off for the last time from The Little House.. waters cascaded down the gutters built of stone and covered in moss.. and mists gathered. "The mists of the ancestors" came to mind.. but of course, these are not my ancestors.. maybe that is why I did not bond with the Cotswolds.
not much to tell about our journey down to Devon.. we took some motorways to save time and then took an off ramp... taking a wrong turn, we once again got lost.. not sure how it happens, but it does & often. And when we get lost, we seem to find all the little back ways through the country side..
"obviously nobody uses this road anymore because it has green grass growing down the middle"
.. and Joe said - 'normal people use a highway'
and as we drove along the road.. I knew we were in Devon.. the rolling green hills that I had known about ever since I was little...Devon - evokes violets. I do hope I can find some of the famous Devon Violets perfume somewhere..
and now, here we are in the middle of nowhere in a divine farm cottage..
the view from our back yard
where the owner, Sarah, has made us a Victorian Sponge, left some local sausages for us, as well as milk... and we can collect eggs from the chickens, if we wish to. Plenty of wood for the fire and 5 days of bliss in Devon..
.. exploring the area during the day.. visiting places like Dartmoor, Lyme Regis and doing some more Yule tide shopping.. maybe a visit to River Cottage cafe.. wherever the whim takes us, because that is what is happening.. oh and I might take a trip to Exeter.. a city of cathedrals.. and a walk to the local Abbey, just down the lane..
but for now, it's off to bed under the Devon skies.