Like the first morning

This spring somehow seems to be the first spring I have seen. Maybe I have new eyes. Maybe I have the time now to see and appreciate it in. Maybe it is the contrast with the cold dark winter when I was housebound....

These are snapshots of an early Sunday morning as I walked to bellringing, while the rest of the world seemed asleep in their beds, missing the freshness and newness and the sparkling air.

The small village lane is bordered on one side by the wall of the manor house kitchen garden. You can just see the magnolia tree peeping over the top. Lovely! Old Dorset walls always reminds me of the walls of Japanese gardens, which are tiled in just the same way. I think English ones would have been thatched in the old days though. The small river runs under the small bridge, then through their garden, and they have cleverly grown a green living wall above the railings,

Looking upstream, away from the manor house wall, the peaceful church yard borders the river. Only the fir trees are showing any green. No leaves yet on the bare branches.

I was late and so had the delight of hearing the bells as I walked along the lane. Only six bells were being rung though, and one ringer is listening and leaning on the ancient stone font. The framework above the ringers is to hold the guiding rings to keep the ropes straight. Only needed in tall towers like ours. The fluffy blue bit on the ropes where your hands go is called a sally. Its such an ancient thing, some of the names and terms are quaint, even to my ears.

Soon we were ringing all ten bells. This number of bells is unusual in a small village, and mostly found in large city churches or cathedrals.

Back home for breakfast and a wander in the garden to see what is bursting into bloom and the first cutting of the grass.......