I adore this time of year in England. yes, it's cold and yes, sometimes the wind blows like a hurricane but last Sunday was perfect - temperate and still as stone, no wind at all. A fitting day to walk the remarkable Thicket path. During summer months, I sometimes walk the six miles down the Thicket to Houghton, then through the quaint villages of Hemingford Abbot and Hemingford Grey and back again to St. Ives. With two pubs on the trail, you can't go wrong.
Seldom, do I ever pass a graveyard without taking a photo. Standing in front of those timeworn headstones, reading names of people who lived and breathed almost 200 years ago, fills me with wonder. I can't help envisioning who they may have been whilst full of the breath of life - rich, poor, noble status, servant or cobbler. The oldest engraving still identifiable, is late 1700's.
Across the river, to the right of the churchyard, is Holt island. Hundreds of years ago on this island, reeds were harvested from osier beds and used for thatch. Reed was preferred over wheat straw for it's longer, more durable constitution. In the 1930's, Holt Island was presented to the City of St. Ives, by the family who once owned it. It's now a popular nature preserve, open for walks from April to September.
All Saint's Church, is St. Ives Parish Church and most possibly the oldest. It was founded in 970.
Hard to believe, the green was empty except for one lone golfer. I stepped over the barbed fence that was half down on the ground and stepped onto the golf course for a photo - the sunlight was so beautiful this day, casting it's long golden fingers on leaf and branch, making every woody fiber, glow with life.
I was hoping to catch a glimpse of a gnome or a wood fairy on this magical trail. I stood very still and listened, hoping the ancient Tree Man would speak to me. I suspect, he'll only visit me in my dreams.
The cows will not like this at all. I made friends with some horses. Please don't tell them.
As I was leaning on the fence, this teenager came trotting over to me from far afield. My whiskered friend was looking for a treat, I think. Just look at his bristled snout !! I had everything possible in my camera bag, except for a carrot.
I wasn't paying attention, fiddling with my camera and at the same time, stroking him on the nose. That cheeky horse bit my fingers !! Jeez Louise, that hurt !!
When I walk alone on this trail, I constantly look up and behind me and from side to side, for what I consider, a window. Have you ever looked out a window at a scene that was so beautiful, it looked a painting, framed in by the window sill ? This, is how I attempt to take my photos - looking through that imaginary window frame for a worthy vignette.
The Thicket path runs parallel to the Great River Ouse and if you were to sit on this bench, you would have a lovely view of river and green field.
The complexity of textures, colours and layers and the earthy fragrance of this modest woodland are truly captivating. I can see how writers such as Emerson and Thoreau, were so inspired by nature.
It doesn't translate very well in this photograph below, but the shrubs behind these spindled trees were sparkling, heavy with raindrops. Lovely.
Maybe someday you will visit St. Ives and we can walk the Thicket together.
Please have a look at this link featuring vintage photos of St. Ives and it's history.
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