Through the Village
Campanula creeps out of and down the walls
The view from these benches is a rolling green hill splashed with blooms falling into the sea, providing the village's front garden for all to love.
The art of thatch ...
... close enough to touch , and yes I did with adoration.
Village strolling is thirsty work, easily quenched at the nearest local, the public house, the pub ... for a pint of ale, smooth as cream and as filling as dinner. When caught between hours, there is always the tea room for a Cream Tea of a hot pot, scones, berries and blobs of pure cream - the density of slightly stirred butter, except richer (!). Walking around the village again and out to the nearest point and back, makes room to hold some locally made ice cream - apparently produced from the same extreme cows. It took me two months of summer gardening to work off my share of rum raisin and other such bliss.