Nothing on the grey roof, nothing on the brown, Only a little greening where the rain drips down; Nobody at the window, nobody at the door, Only a little hollow which a foot once wore; But still I tread on tiptoe, still tiptoe on I go, Past nettle, porch and weedy well, for oh, I know A friendless face is peering, and a clear still eye Peeps closely through the casement as my step goes by.
Walter de la Mare
This is a poem that I learned by heart at school. I was probably aged nine or ten. That sense of the unknown, maybe the supernatural, is so powerful. I was reminded of it again tonight, as I read Bovey Belle`s short story, Little Llettygariad, on Codlins and Cream 2.
The line "Only a little hollow which a foot once wore;" has always fascinated me. If I walk across an old doorstep, worn to a hollow by the feet of many years, there is a tangible link with other lives, lived long ago.
Living in the beautiful New Forest, I am a married late-fifties woman, a recently retired teacher and the mother of grown up boys who have flown the nest. I share my days with cats, dogs, ponies and the wildlife all around us. Starting this blog is a chance to explore woods, fields, lanes and heath with my camera. A chance to share the simple pleasures of my country life.