Seen on a blue pot
Canton scenes of ancient Rome
Cotehele is a Tudor manor house built between 1485 and 1539, high above the banks of the river Tamar in Cornwall. It was owned by the same family- the Edgcumbes,for six hundred years and is one of the best preserved Medieval manors in the country. They rebuilt the original 13th century property, before creating an even grander home a few miles away at Mount Edgcumbe, so Cotehele was little used and hardly changed over the centuries. The house became National Trust property in 1947 in lieu of death duty.
Today I’m showing you some of the armoury to be fond in the Great Hall.
And some other items I liked.
I’ll be back in a few days with some more photos of the house and garden.
She scrambles through the memory door,
with care for the height ascending
heavenwards through the Majorelle sky,
to sit, watching from her balcony,
from her sun-dazzled rooftop seat.
A spectator of unfolding beach drama,
and the tides that turn on loving couples,
with swift momentum on the old.
Hair chopped, scrolled, bleached white
her Rapunzel days are over,
no handsome prince will rise to rescue
his dragon heart fell cold.
This post is for http://wedrinkbecausewerepoets.com/2014/03/25/bastets-pixelventures-march-25-2014/ challenge this week which is UP.
You can take it anywhere you like but only use 100 words.’
Here are mine.
The familiar smell of coach station enveloped me and I pressed my nose against the window hoping to see another self. Nothing. The little belly flutters shifted up a notch, more like a train in a tunnel now. I realised I had to move from my seat, I was last.
There were many black faces in Birmingham coach station, but one stood out.
‘Sis,’ said the big black bear as he wrapped me up. I felt shy as I raised my eyes to meet his, but there was the mirror I’d waited so long for, in the eyes of my newly found brother.