We’re still on holiday as AP took the week off work and I am caught up with orders. The day spread out before us, asking us what we wished to do with our free time, which is precious and sometimes hard to come by.
“I wish to visit a stately home” we said, and so we pulled out our National Trust membership and off we went to Mottisfont in Hampshire.
This is the spring that ran through the property, which began as a medieval abbey but was converted into Tudor house and later an 18th century country home.
Snowdrops in winter.
An art installation inside the home — the ghost of Christmas past.
We strolled in the gardens, even though they were brown and withered and bare. We paid homage to the source of the spring, noting that it was considered a sacred space, first by the druids and then by the monks who lived in the abbey. Water sources are holy, indeed.
We took the long way home, which is sometimes the best way, as it makes time for conversation and for quiet contemplation. The sun was low in the sky and it back-lit the cloudscapes, fields, and barren trees. And when we reached our home, we fed the cat and collapsed in a heap. We must pace ourselves. Tomorrow we’re going to London!