Well, after a WordPress update, a browser upgrade, a new laptop and an idyllic Maytime sojourn in England, I am back!

Philip and I have just returned from the most special trip imaginable. It really was a pilgrimage in many ways, as I am sure all lovers of English literature and culture can understand, and I am positively overflowing with the beauties I have seen and experienced. And though my body still seems to favor British time, and I’ve noticed a disconcerting instinct to drive on the left side of the road, I’m slowly readjusting to Stateside life. I’ve been wading through the calls and emails and comments and bills that have accumulated over our absence, and labelling pictures and adding the last little notes to my journal (I filled up a whole notebook!). And wondering wherever to begin this post.

But that’s just it–it’s the beginning. I couldn’t confine our experiences to a post, or a series of posts or a book! I wish that I could just sit down and recount the sum total of the Lord’s sweet blessings–blessings that nearly broke my heart at times. I hope to give a few bright glimpses of His goodness; bear with me if I wax sentimental in the weeks to come. There’s a curious sense of homesickness that clings to every memory I have of England.    

So here’s a little start…enjoy the fruits of my husband’s skill with a camera!

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Is there anything in this world more enchanting than the prospect of an English lane? 

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Unless, of course, it’s the villages they lead to…

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The bluebells bloom in early May and the air was heavenly with their scent. Here we’re high above the sea in Western Somerset and have just happened upon this fragrant pool of them. Their aroma was one with the spring breezes. The beauty of the scene brought tears to my eyes…

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Taking the water at the Pump Room in Bath. πŸ˜‰ It tastes awful, so I reasoned it must be good for me! And, besides, if Anne Elliot and Catherine Moreland did it…
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Most of the time we stayed in self-catering cottages. This is the farm track leading to our first little ‘home’. It was situated in the heart of a working sheep farm and at night we could hear the lambs and ewes bleating through the open windows.

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Our fairy-tale 15th century miller’s cottage. We learned that this tiny house was at one time occupied by the miller and his wife and their six children! There were rose vines clambering over the door and windows, and forget-me-nots and ferns grew with abandon all around it. Complete with an inglenook and a pokey stair it was more than heart could wish.

To be continued… πŸ™‚

One last thing…in the flurry of getting ready to leave last month I neglected to acknowledge the very kind and gracious nominations of four ladies I admire for the ‘Thinking Blogger’ award. Many and blushing thanks to Alison of The Autumn Rain, Sallie at A Gracious Home, Brenda at Coffee, Tea, Books and Me and Tonia at A Study in Brown. I truly appreciated the sweet things that you said. πŸ™‚ You have all inspired me towards beauty and truth and I thank you.