My husband's roots are embedded in his English homeland; mine trail back to Ireland and Germany via my grandparents, who emigrated from those countries. Visiting these lands, and especially the ancient villages tucked among the hills and valleys of lush green farm fields, always feels like returning home.
Surely this feeling is mostly generated by the warm welcome we receive from family members who really
do make their home there and isn't entirely the product of some deep-seated Celtic-Anglo-Saxon spirit lurking in our bones. Their doors are always open to us. And that metaphor gives me an easy-peasy way to start sorting through 1,093 photographs of varying quality from this trip.
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| Old door, side street, Wallingford |
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| Door in stone wall, public footpath, Wookey |
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| House Door, Vicar's Close, Wells |
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| Doors on high street, Burnham-on-Crouch |
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| Garage Door, Burnham-on-Crouch |
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| Door, storeroom-now-museum, Wells Cathedral |
Ah, all lovely. And so English. Makes me very glad that I will be there myself in a week and a half.
ReplyDeleteTo quote Napoleon Dynamite, "Luck-eeeee!" I didn't know you were headed there. Where will you be? Can I stow away in your luggage? Oh wait. There's a 50-lb limit. I think they'd detect me.
ReplyDeleteOh these are just splendid!
ReplyDeleteThat last door is stunning.
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