Sunday 23 March 2003

Today I had company, I have the children all week this week instead of just from Thursday to Sunday, so instead of walking after dropping them off with their mother, I took them with me. Well, eldest daughter would not come because she was painting her bedroom, middle daughter was feeling ill under a blanket on the couch, so youngest came along. It was great to have someone to share this beautiful Sunday with in Bridgend woods. This, believe it or not, is the first Sunday of Spring though the previous pages belie this.

While the wee one entertained herself on a wonderful swing, made of an inch thick rope with a fishing float tied to the end, I walked down to one of the bridges over the Sorn. The ubiquitous daffodils nod away the heat of the day as the river drifts towards the sea a half a mile away.

The light was low and the picture on the left of the bridge is taken almost directly into it, giving a wonderful misty quality to the light. Goodness, I wonder why we are not flooded with artists painting in this light.

And so thinking about art and artists, I tried a couple of self-consciously arty shots, there are many planted trees here and many of these are cyprus, ancient and twisted they form good frames for the Sorn.

The picture on the left looks towards the sea through a low fork in the trunk of an old tree.

The picture on the right is upstream to yet another weir. At some point in the history of Islay Estate this river has been adapted for fishing, these weirs add interest to the river, as a walker as well as for the fly fisher.

The wee one had never been into the cemetery at Bridgend, so we drove down to the Bridgend Hotel and walked back to the cemetery. Caldach also had been asking about the aqueduct on the previous page. On the right you can see the end of the aqueduct where it tumbles its water into a tiny moss lined pool. You can see the wall of the lane up to the graveyard, as I explained to the wee one, it stops the stream tumbling over the road.

The light was such that the gravestones could be read – click on the picture to see.

The picture on the right is one of my favourite memorials with an impressive angel on top.

The image on the right is a broken and weathered slab that, for some reason, I find myself attracted to. Caldach asked me what it says and on the full-sized image you can just make it out. Can you fill in the missing words?

“May 27th 1771
This is the burial place
of John M Voran merchant
in Killarow breath to…
(illegible) … foot”

In the graveyard there are some very old grave slabs, side by side in the middle of the cemetery you can see four such slabs. The picture on the left is the left pair of slabs showing a recumbent knight and, I think, the faint outline of a sword on the other. The picture on the right shows a beautifully carved sword and Celtic knots on one stone, and a more eroded and damaged soldier on the other.

The next page will be later in the year when the bluebells are out, (do you like all the commas, JJ?)

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