My thoughts skimmed to
This reminded me of your place ....., which I had left with its corner folded in my mind ..... and that although my heart remains in Cornwall, I feel I could be falling passionately in love with Roscerff Farm.
The slates inside the front door hollowed by ten thousand steps of wooden clogs.
The colossal chimney where the dogs warmed themselves in the century old photo, and still warm themselves today.
The silent courtyard among the family of small granite houses where barn owls swoop whitely and bats flit to their home through the arch, above the well.
The jungle of ancient oaks and cider apples trees tumbling down to the meandering Yar river, bubbling eternally towards the bay.
So when the huge red sun rises over the oak ridge and the moon in all its phases travels over the blue black sky,
I find myself wishing to be part of it all, to know this place, its history and people, to stay long enough to love and nurture ....
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