I’ll combine two days in this post and try to keep it brief, probably unsuccessfully. Just a heads up before you start.

Yesterday I woke up in my cozy bunk bed with the sound of several birds and a chattering noise I couldn’t identify that wasn’t a bird. It was so nice to be able to indulge a state of wonder and not feel a rush to get out and be productive. After so many days of diving into my surroundings, I needed a slow day and I gave myself permission to achieve nothing other than to be present, do a watercolor somewhere and get some exercise. I decided it was time to face the tourist center of Stow-in-the-Wold since it was only seven minutes away and had several recommended spots for breakfast. It did not disappoint in either being a tourist spot, or having delicious breakfast options. It also has more cutesy baby clothes shops per fifty yards than I’ve ever seen anywhere. I had breakfast at a place called The Hive and then wandered around into the old church St. Edwards and noticed the individual needlepointed kneeler cushions in the pews that must have been a huge project since there were at least 100 of them all with different scenes needlepointed on both sides. Unfortunately I missed the most memorable thing about St. Edwards Church which is the yew lined doors at the North side of the church which apparently inspired J.R.R. Tolkien.

I went into a wonderful small bookstore https://www.borzoibookshop.co.uk/ and enjoyed talking with the woman who was helpful in pointing me to another spot that sold better postcards. As I was looking at some of the books, she gave some little kids stickers and free tote bags which made them very happy and their parents, as well. Seeing families with little kids on this trip has been reminding me of our family trips to England when I was 7 8 and 9 years old and how much things like that meant to me. I remember being obsessed with collecting badges of every town we visited. I don’t think they make these anymore. I think of my parents being much younger than I am now, and their excitement at exploring new towns, their interest in maps and history, their sentiment when we were leaving a place where we had stayed. Yesterday I saw a man with his fancy camera searching for just the right shot and I felt like I was seeing my Dad. I feel as if I am walking in their footsteps in so many ways.

I wandered up to the town square where all the sheep used to be brought for sale, which is why there are so many sheep sized alleys leading into the main square. The square is also where several rebels during the English civil war were beheaded and apparently the gutters ran red with blood. Now there are stores selling antiques, Cotswolds pillows and dog accessories. The dog store made me feel just fine about the number of cat toys I’ve accumulated over the years. They are much cheaper than these dog accessories which here included only the finest Barbour coats made for different sized dogs, elegant leashes, ice cream flavors in different meats, and dog beds in three different William Morris fabrics! (see photos below). It was funny to be outside the store and watch how many dogs tried to pull their owners in the doorway as the owners tugged seemingly oblivious on their leashes. I’ll never understand why people don’t buy the leashes for dogs that don’t just go around their necks. It seems so inhumane to have dogs being choked on a daily basis. I’ve noticed that the Cotswolds is a very dog-friendly area with different types of dog bones available at many stores, not just pet stores. Almost all shops had dog water bowls out front.

And then I bought some postcards and very expensive stamps to send them and went into the old Town Hall which is now a library as well as a place that sells books. I looked on the bulletin boards for more of what was happening in the area and then went into the library. The first book I saw was sketchbooks of an artist I had never heard of named Kurt Jackson. I was so intrigued by his mixed media style of sketchbooking but also his paintings. There were two books of his work there and I took some photos to be able to remember his work and really wanted to buy one of the books but reluctantly turned away without buying one because they were very heavy and would have made my luggage even heavier than it already is. The textures are so layered and full of light. For more on Kurt Jackson and all the books I crave perusing https://www.kurtjackson.com/books/

I had to go into the art supply store on my way to the car and also didn’t buy anything but enjoyed talking with the shop owner and inhaling the scent in the store of sweet tobacco. After getting in the car, I thought I’d seek out a trail to do a short walk but I was unable to find a parking spot anywhere near Bourton on the Water which was where I had decided to go, so I meandered on some very narrow but beautiful roads through fields until I came to a sign for Lower Slaughter. I turned down the hill and found a parking spot and walked into the village.

Lower Slaughter is known partially for its working mill wheel and the shallow river that runs through the village. Since one of my goals for the day was to do a watercolor, I found an inn with a back garden and ordered tea and did a watercolor. During the time I was sketching, a couple talked to another couple with a black lab at the nearby table and a German woman came over and complimented me on my painting and we had a brief discussion about how she could learn to draw. So often people comment on my work and say they have no talent and could never do this etc. etc. but it really just takes practice and learning how to see. I’m always learning how to do this and also feeling rusty since I haven’t been sketching from life much this year.

After leaving the tea spot, I followed some other tourist groups and couples along a flat path out into some fields and then decided to turn around and drive back to Bourton on the Water to find a place for dinner. After parking I passed another Shepherd’s hut in a courtyard with a beautiful cat so poised in the ray of sun. I passed some explosive orange roses and sniffed them. A couple saw me do it and came by and sniffed them too. I had a quick dinner at a pub where coincidentally I was sitting next to the couple who had talked to the man about his dog in Lower Slaughter.

I was eager to get back for Golden Hour at the little hut in Oddington and when I was there I worked more on my painting and listened to all the birds and the chickens and the way the sun shone through all the daisies in the grass.

I ended up driving to the Fox at Oddington to have a drink and work on the blog and then walked back to the car in the pitch darkness, drove five minutes and fell asleep almost immediately.

Today was my last morning at the hut in Oddington and it was hard to say goodbye to that magical spot. I stayed in a similar place in Ireland five years ago - a little farm with goats and chickens run by a woman in her 70’s. That airbnb was a hexagon shaped cabin with a wood stove and perched on a platform on a hill overlooking fields with old stone walls and horses. Under the eaves I could hear what I learned were baby bats chattering in different inflections as if they were speaking a complex language and having an animated conversation (they were doing both) and also where I heard a cuckoo each evening. These memories have come flooding back. I also remember the progress of an unfurling fern frond as it got higher each day through the deck cracks. I remember knowing that the world is full of divinity.

After cleaning up the hut and having a warm conversation and goodbye with Georgie the host (wearing overalls and putting her horses out to the pasture), I headed for Stow in the Wold for one last morning breakfast. This time I ate on the village square at a new breakfast spot and was very interested in watching the young family outside with their son who seemed obsessed with cleanliness and probably had some form of OCD. It was hard to watch him so uncomfortable and constantly checking the seat which his Dad had cleaned many times. Finally his little sister traded places with him and talked to her doll while he examined the very expensive and delicious fresh squeezed orange juice with an actual orange slice in it. He wouldn’t drink it. I don’t know how parents manage without losing it!

I entered Minchinhampton into my friend Google Maps and was off on a beautiful drive through the Cotswolds for about an hour towards my next lodging for a couple of nights. On the way I listened to a podcast from the BBC called Unburied with Michael Sheen about the Monsanto attempts to hide their use of PCBs and that they knew how dangerous they were if found in the water supply or left in landfills. Not a very cheerful topic but it was still well done.

En route, I noticed a placed called Highgrove Gardens which seemed to have a beautiful tour of both house and garden and a place for tea. I put this into google maps which took me to a set of pillars and an open gate next to a house that looked quite overgrown which was unusual for an entrance to such a fancy place. I was dubious that this was actually the entrance to Highgrove Gardens (which I learned soon was the home of King Charles and Camilla) but turned in the single lane drive anyways. It was covered in spots of grass growing thru cracks and bumpy and clearly not the right way, and yet google maps was showing me clearly that that Highgrove House was coming up. After going on this single lane drive for about a quarter mile, I came up to the back entrance of a grand house with an open gate. As soon as I realized this probably was Highgrove House and that in small print the instructions were NOT to use google maps but to use their description of how to get in, I thought I should turn around before Secret Service sent their drones over to investigate. I did think it was very strange that it was so easy to find it and possibly enter without any problem. When I asked Annie my host, she told me that it takes weeks to get a tour so that I wouldn’t have been able to go anyways, even if I hadn’t crashed via the back entrance.

Decision fatigue had set in because there are hundreds of fascinating and beautiful walks and sights to see in the area between Oddington and Minchinhampton, so I decided to head straight to Minchinhampton and get the lay of the land from there. My check in wasn’t until 3 PM but arrived around noon and had lunch on the main street - a nice risotto with asparagus and an elderflower tonic. There was a couple who looked as if they were in their late 60’s in panama hats talking fervently about people finding their soulmates later in life and how often they seem to be people who live right nearby all along. I was very interested. I’ve also experienced as anyone reading probably has the different way people react to you as you age. Now I am either completely ignored or people call me '“Love” which I quite like, although it makes me feel as if I have graduated into grandmother territory. In a way it is very freeing just to feel comfortable in one’s skin and with a sense of inner worth. I am in a different place from five years ago when I was in deep grief about my Dad and also my lack of community. Now I feel as if my Dad is with me all the time and I don’t feel tears welling as often. I just feel sad that his great spirit and joyful sense of fun isn’t adding to the world anymore. His blue eyes and gorgeous tenor voice are still vivid in my mind. I think the tour guide Steve reminded me that there are men out there who have many of Dad’s jovial and teasing qualities but of course, they aren’t him.

I decided it was time for some self care and a massage at one of the local spas that kept showing up on google maps. Amazingly I was able to book one that evening at a place called Calcot Spa not far from Tetbury and where I was staying. I decided to stay in Tetbury and relax since it was also very hot and I was so tired. I sat in the doorway of a four star hotel overlooking the inner gardens and did some watercolor and read the news on my phone over tea and cake. The building is from the fifteen hundreds and many of the people there had dogs because it was a dog friendly hotel. The waiters all wore little woolen mustard colored vests and seemed elegant and also stressed. I think catering to the very wealthy and sometimes entitled can be a very tough job.

The women I had included in my sketch came over on their way out and we had a fun exchange about art, and the insanity of politics in both the UK and the US. They said they had been friends since age 11 and were about to celebrate turning 50. I told them that once you cross over the hump it’s not such a big deal. So cliche but true.I also said I hoped they would throw themselves a huge party. They left laughing. One of those nice exchanges that happen through sketchbooking.

I had the most incredible massage with scents of lavender and frankincense and all the kinks smoothed out and took a walk beforehand around the grounds of the spa which were of course in an old manor house. It was interesting to read about the rewilding efforts around there. And then I drove to Minchinhampton and was warmly greeted by Annie who had prepared the most welcoming room for me with breakfast and cookies and a tiny refrigerator the size of a lunchbox. She gave me a quick tour of her gardens and “my patio” and suggested a place for fish and chips up the street since it was already late for dinner. I wandered up and found the spot and while they were preparing it discovered interesting door knockers and small lanes tucked between the ancient houses. After getting the food, I looked for a bench up the hill near the village green where apparently there are cows grazing, and was surprised to hear coming from the church the sound of choral music. I went into the church, leaving the food in a side room and heard the very last fifteen minutes of concert. You can hear some of it below in the video.

Another remarkable day full of beauty, tenderness, quirkiness, art, birdsong, friendliness, sunshine. I am so grateful.