Tag Archives: exmoor

Painting : Valley of the Rocks

March 18, 2019art, England, exmoor, Painting, Poetry, watercolourart, exmoor, Painting, watercolourThe Cheesesellers Wife

Here is a watercolour view of the Valley of the Rocks on Exmoor:

Painting: Blue Anchor Beach

February 28, 2019art, watercolourart, beach, exmoor, Painting, watercolourThe Cheesesellers Wife

A watercolour painting of the eastern end of Blue Anchor beach, near Exmoor. This is where we have collected many fine fossils. Painted in 2016 — the rocks have been battered by further winter storms and are very different now.

Poem: Silence

October 31, 2018poem, Poetryexmoor, poem, poetryThe Cheesesellers Wife

The hum of insects going about their lives
the faint rustle of a breeze through the nettles
evening on the herepath is hushed
the loudest sound is suddenly that of our kissing
and we laugh, guilty as teenagers once more.

Exmoor Spring

May 23, 2018beauty, England, exmoor, poem, PoetryEngland, exmoor, poem, poetry, rhyme, sheep, spring, springtimeThe Cheesesellers Wife

Sheep gnaw at clumps of grass
Buttercups shine as yellow cut-glass
Bluebells haze and blue a bare hill bereft of a wood
And I laze where struggling shepherds once stood.

Stone in the water

May 9, 2018beauty, nature, poem, Poetry, springtimebeauty, exmoor, Life, poem, poetry, spring, springtimeThe Cheesesellers Wife

Deep plunge pool in the heart of the moor
Centred in spring time unfurling of bracken
Shadowed by a twisted thorn tree
Water pours in over a mossy lip
Large pebbles line the sloping
Glowing colours in crystal water

Something falls
Breaks the surface
Circles upon circles radiate
Contours ripple to a point of disappearance
Sparkle in the dawn light
Stone in the water

Re-blogged from 2016.

We live on the high ground

April 5, 2018archeology, exmoor, Life, poem, Poetryarcheology, exmoor, family, Life, Neolithic, poem, poetry, prehistory, Stone age, stone circlesThe Cheesesellers Wife

We live on the high ground
Below us the water tumbles and falls, jumping over buried rocks
Water criss-crosses the land eventually falling to the sea
Life is good here on the high, fresh soil and clear water
Healthy children, full bellies, long lives
Yesterday we sowed seed, laughing and singing
Today the sun is warm and the birds are singing for me
I try to put the birdsong into speech
As we knap flints from the coast
Mother is drawing a circle on the turf near the Family stones
A circle stones of to encompass Grandmother who closes in to death
We will cover her in the soil of home to keep her with us
Here on the high ground

Originally published in Three Drops from a Cauldron: Issue 11

Herepath

January 17, 2018archeology, beauty, exmoor, history, nature, poem, Poetryexmoor, Herepath, history, nature, poem, poetry, TolkienThe Cheesesellers Wife

Wide as ten men abreast
The old road cuts between farms
Dips down to the river
Rises up over the moor
Rabbits lollop, lambs bleat
Rosebay glows at sunset
Where were the wars that you marched to?
Where were the victories that you won?
Here on the old Herepath
The road truly goes ever on

Moorland night

December 30, 2017astronomy, beauty, exmoor, poem, Poetry, winterEngland, exmoor, Life, night, poem, poetryThe Cheesesellers Wife

Stars pooled like milk at zenith
Coloured lights tracking across
Blinking

Deep night swallows all light
Here on the Moor

High Hilled Moor

December 9, 2017England, exmoor, Life, nature, poem, Poetry, weatherEngland, exmoor, Fog, Hoar Oak Water, Life, walking, weatherThe Cheesesellers Wife

Fog rose out of the valley
Where Hoar Oak Water runs
Swarmed up onto our hill path
Rose further to blot the sun

Encompassed within minutes
We faltered on our way
Scrambled up a steep slope
To see hills afloat on a vast sea

Exmoor Soundscape

October 11, 2017beauty, exmoor, Life, nature, poem, Poetrybeauty, Buzzard, exmoor, Life, nature, pony, soundscape, travel, Wild birds, Wild lifeThe Cheesesellers Wife

Wild ponies snorting in the shade of a thorn tree
The kee of a buzzard soaring overhead
A ragged baa from a startled ewe
All underlaid by the irregular rumble of falling tumbling water

A note to readers from America: An English buzzard is not a vulture, but catches live prey.