Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Kerbiriou

Kerbiriou may be located among the Islands of the Blessed.



For nectar and ambrosia, there was Paul's cider, light and sweet, made the traditional way, layered and pressed with fresh straw, and for breakfast, as we looked down to the sea, the pure apple juice, and a jelly made from it with the consistency and taste of honey.  And Yvette gave us piles of home-made warm crêpes, as well as good bread, and soft, fresh creamy cheese she made with the milk from the goats in the paddock we could see from the breakfast room.  A kid had been born the day before we arrived, it nestled in the bank, a scrap of black silk, small and point-eared as a cat.  Then there was very yellow butter made on the farm, and raw milk in big white jugs, warmed for breakfast coffee, and some cold in a smaller jug to take to the fridge in our room for tea when we wanted.  I skimmed the cream off it each time and ate it with a spoon.

We were sometimes joined for breakfast by an attendant spirit.

There were hedges foaming with blackthorn blossom, alive with insects, which promised a wealth of sloes for the autumn,


and there was blue.


Blue boats on blue water,


blue borage,


and blue bluebells, with violets, in the fields.



There was that perfume of wallflowers, in gardens and on the face of cliffs, which marries so oddly well with the pungency of seaweed and iodine of the seashore.




And there was this,



and this,


and this.



So that it was necessary to do this.

I have been so blessed.

24 comments:

Dale said...

Oh.

:-)

xoxo

zephyr said...

Lucy...oh, how beautiful.

marja-leena said...

What a peaceful and beautiful soul enriching retreat!

This makes me even more hungry for ours in a few weeks.

Barrett Bonden said...

A sequence of what used to be called telegrams: I take it they're your shoes. Squashed into familiarity. Like being admitted to your innermost thoughts. The feet proclaim the personality. Grey, but lively grey.

PurestGreen said...

I feel like my heart has been squeezed. X

Lesley said...

It sounds as if it was balm for your soul. I hope so, anyway.

herhimnbryn said...

Beautiful images Lucy. What a tranquil place to stay. I hope it helped.

HKatz said...

The writing and photos are full of beauty and serenity; thank you for bringing Kerbiriou to us, and I hope you keep finding it a place of healing and peace.

Granny J said...

What a wonderful haven! Where is it located?

leslee said...

Such a beautiful place.

(o)

J Cosmo Newbery said...

Looks fabulous. Looks cool but looks fabulous.

Avus said...

A beautiful post, Lucy - and a beautiful place. I do hope it helped the healing process.

Laureline said...

So glad you're finding solace in that beautiful place.
Much love to you.
L

Fire Bird said...

Good. I can feel the balm from here.

Rouchswalwe said...

Many shades of blue and hues of grey. Light and shadow. Soft water and hard rock. Barefoot is a fine way to feel all these things.

Jean said...

I have stupidly posted my comment on this post, and on your new banner, to the previous post. Sorry!

Nimble said...

What a list. Open sky, open water. And flowers! And cream! Not to mention the very elegant gray cat and a baby goat.

tristan said...

blessed are the pure in heart ...

Crafty Green Poet said...

what a lovely post, it looks a very beautiful place

Rosie said...

paddling is the purest of pleasures

Bee said...

Every detail so wonderfully described . . . almost as if I was THERE. (We have bluebells, but no blue sea to dip our winter-white feet in, alas.)

Sorry to be such a stranger here. I've been away from home and computer for a month. Way too long.

A Write Life said...

I found myself wanting to join you. What a beautiful place to take a rest. Please tell me where it is.

Plutarch said...

Those shoes, I have been meaning to say, suggest by their presence and location, cool seawater, refreshing your feet. Theicolouris the grey of ring doves.

Lucy said...

Thanks all.

The shoes are serviceable colour, I find, bright socks enliven them.

The place is on the eastern side of the Bay of Morlaix, about an hour and a half from here, and a little way into the next department, which is a little like going from Devon into Cornwall, one almostfeels one is going abroad! There are numerous small inlets and hardly any towns of any size on that side of the bay, so it is a well-kept secret kind of place. The gentleness and generosity of place and people at times almost undid me; without having to let anyone know what ailed me, I felt I was being cared for and soothed. We've already booked to go back there in September.

Odd you should mention ring-doves Joe...