This is home
This is home
This is home
A reflection on how Cornwall has seeped into my bones and feels more like home than anywhere else I've ever lived.
There is something grounding about knowing a place intimately. Knowing each fold of the landscape and kink in the path. Knowing which flowers bloom where, the territories of different animals and where the sun sets through the seasons. This is one of those places for me.
Yet, no two visits are ever the same. Some days the cliffs are pounded with waves sending spray like fireworks into the air as though echoing the dynamite explosions of yesteryear. Some days it’s glossy calm, or rippled with lines of swell. Some days you can barely stand in the wind or sea mist rolls through blanketing the heath. And some days it is disarmingly still. It keeps me coming back for more to see what tomorrow might bring.
There is something grounding about knowing a place intimately. Knowing each fold of the landscape and kink in the path. Knowing which flowers bloom where, the territories of different animals and where the sun sets through the seasons. This is one of those places for me.
Yet, no two visits are ever the same. Some days the cliffs are pounded with waves sending spray like fireworks into the air as though echoing the dynamite explosions of yesteryear. Some days it’s glossy calm, or rippled with lines of swell. Some days you can barely stand in the wind or sea mist rolls through blanketing the heath. And some days it is disarmingly still. It keeps me coming back for more to see what tomorrow might bring.
There is something grounding about knowing a place intimately. Knowing each fold of the landscape and kink in the path. Knowing which flowers bloom where, the territories of different animals and where the sun sets through the seasons. This is one of those places for me.
Yet, no two visits are ever the same. Some days the cliffs are pounded with waves sending spray like fireworks into the air as though echoing the dynamite explosions of yesteryear. Some days it’s glossy calm, or rippled with lines of swell. Some days you can barely stand in the wind or sea mist rolls through blanketing the heath. And some days it is disarmingly still. It keeps me coming back for more to see what tomorrow might bring.
