There is a derelict house, the only one left of all the properties that were once inhabited on the hillside. This is Birch Cottage where once lived the Maddox family. I wondered if only the house could speak what tales it could tell. The joy, the sadness, the hope and even perhaps despair. On this Remembrance Sunday it is rather poignant to mention that there were two Madddox boys killed in the First World War. No one has lived in this house for almost 50 years and now it is fenced off so the unstable building won’t fall on any of the cattle in the field. During the wet summer I went to check the ‘dry’ cows only to find that six of them were in the back kitchen of the house. Since then the front has fallen out, so the fencing was necessary.
Further up the hill is another casualty of the summer an old oak tree. It was struck by lightening many years ago and so water has collected over time in the crack in the trunk, this summer it gently split down the middle. No cleaner cut could have been made with an axe. Oddly enough the part on the right died and the left side was still living.
It was time to go and milk ‘the girls’ then afterwards home for tea. Sounds a bit like Enid Blyton, but I hope it’s not triangular salmon sandwiches and fairy cakes!
1 comment:
That would be a fantastic place to live - if a little draughty. What a shame it's just tumbling down. Pretty soon it will be just lumps and bumps in a field.
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