A few Hedgerows, Walls and Walkways...

I love peering into the old hedgerows on morning walks towards Mousehole, and looking across the bay to St Michael's Mount - weather permitting, of course! Even on dizzly Spring days, everything seems bright and vibrant, set against grey skies...

Tiny wild strawberry flowers were wedged between granite blocks, as were violets, surrounded by a scattered patchwork of lichen...

The pink campion was out, set around shiny, waxy leaves in the dense hedgerows...

A blurr of delicate forget-me-nots created a hazy blue mist with their minute flowers...

Whilst banks of bluebells - wild and cultivated - burst out from their background...

The Cornish stone hedges were just as impressive with their subtle ferns, growing out from every crack...

And of course the Cornish staples, glowing nasturtiums that escalate and tumble down stonework leading into the village...

Whilst set between the breaks in the fence covered with the brambles and bracken...

Elusive passageways down to the sea, hidden in tunnels of undergrowth...

And as you make your way into the village, the exotic plants that seem typical of Cornwall today are everywhere...

Whether growing on walls, on steps or in pots...

But always set amongst the granite...

And the alleyways and tiny streets...

Sadly many of which appear to have been given over to holiday-let accommodation, but that's another story, I suppose...

And finally, even when there are no apparent plants, gentle moss wedges itself between the cobblestones!

Light, Leaves, Twigs and Glass...

I love spindly, wizened, dried twigs, branches, leaves and flowers - my very favourites being those presented under glass so that they are preserved in their static, frozen form...

As I have a number of skeletal leaves, I would like to make my own glass cloche in the style of the beautifully ornate Victorian glass dome cases, but in the meantime I will content myself with my little collection that even has lighting - making it look magical in the evenings!

Beautiful Abutilon...

During a typically rainy morning in Cornwall, the abutilon flowers in the garden seemed to bow their wet, drooping heads with an air of despondency, as water dripped down their petals like tears, or so it felt to me on what was a day of sadness. However, more typical still, was the sun beaming out just a few hours later, shining through the papery lilac heads that resembled a cloud of delicate butterfly wings. Difficult to feel down for too long in such conditions!

This did remind me of my butterfly mobile, with winged insects made from printed paper napkins, suspended from twisted hazel branches. When the sun shines in, it catches on the crystal drops below the butterflies, sending magical glints of light across the room. In the background is the poster reproduction of an Arthur Rackham watercolour that has decorated almost every bedroom that I have ever had since teenage years... and I still love it decades on!