Ashwell

Oops!  Well the day started well, with Hazel and I having a lovely walk on Barton Farm, but right at the end I managed to trip over a tree root and give myself a bruised face, a split lip and a massive nose bleed (I know, but please don't comment).  So instead of going into town for people shots you have this.

When my dad died my mum got rather wild with the throwing out of stuff.  One of the things I was supposed to bag up, but didn't, was a box file with the very few docs my dad had thought worth keeping through his life.  In it were four linocuts.  This was one of them.

My dad grew up in North Devon. My grandparents lived there until they died.  As children we used to spend long summers down there, us and all our cousins.  Then for a handful of years my parents moved back down there and it was really 'home'.  For us it was, and always will be, a magic land.

This farmhouse was the next one along the grass-grown lane.  Called Ashwell, my grandfather rented the house and farm out to George Ayre.  And it was his wife, Winifred, who made the lino cuts.  Rather lovely, don't you think, even if much of the place itself (much of North Devon in those days) would qualify for DerelictSunday.

And if you want to know more about what North Devon used to be like back then, here's a link.

Just one thing - never turn down memory lane when you're feeling a bit beaten up.  It always makes you sad.

Have a lovely evening  xx

WildflowerWeek 15
 HEARTS this week go to:
PaiviPuu
Tweedy
JudyD
Freuchie
Cathy1947

and Hon Mentions to:

steveng
Frani
dfb24
TheBroon
Treshnish
Kimb
and, as always, my thanks to you all ;))