It is nice to have places nearby to visit when you are at a loose end at a sunny weekend, one of my favourite spots is Covehithe.
My stroll starts at St Andrew’s Church, classically known locally as the church within a church. The old building now in ruins surrounds the modern smaller church. The original church is believed to have been constructed early in the fifteenth century. The size of the church was out of all proportion to the population of the district, which according to local records never exceeded 300 people, and financed privately by William Yarmouth and his friends.
It is often said that the old edifice was reduced to its present ruined state by the action of Cromwell’s agents, but although Dowsing, the Parliamentary Commissioner, has stated that he “broke down two hundred pictures …]” he does not in fact appear to have done much structural damage apart from breaking windows. Thirty plus years after his visit when it became clear that the building was so much too large and the cost of maintenance beyond the means of the community, permission was granted by the Ecclesiastical Authorities in 1672 to erect the present day small church by utilising materials obtain from the original structure.
The octagonal font, the old place of worship together with the pulpit, remain inside the church.
After wondering around the ruins and its wild flowers, I make my way along the public foot path across some farmland down to the marshes that lead down to a beautiful coastline beach.
The beach is a mid-section of coastline running between Southwold and Kessingland. It is possible to walk the full length, and indeed, back to Lowestoft that way, but that covers just over 9 miles of sand and shingle. Not for the faint hearted.
I prefer to meander along the beach for a while collecting driftwood and then make my way back towards Coverhithe village road to admire the quaint houses with their beautiful climbing roses and blossoms.
Situated at the end of Links Road in Gunton, which is in the North of Lowestoft, it offers a lovely retreat. The great aspect of the warren is that because it is located at the very end of North Lowestoft Beach not many people wonder towards it allowing wildlife to thrive.
Apart from the sea birds there is a variety of species to spot within the woodland. It offers a diverse area of coastal, grassland, heathland and woodland. Open to dog walkers, photographers and families of all ages. There is a nature trail to follow so you can make it really fun for children.
Managed by the Suffolk Wildlife Trust it is well maintained and they clearly promote habitat conservation with so many nesting boxes dotted around.
We entered the warren after walking up from Ness Point (most easterly point in Britain) so after a walk around and exploration we headed back towards the point again but stopping for some light refreshment at the Lighthouse Café. They house themselves at the bottom of the lighthouse on Whapload Road and offer a great selection of hot drinks and if you are peckish, I highly recommend their all day breakfasts!
Do you love spending time on nature reserves? Why not recommend in the comments below!
It had been a while since writing here. I guess I took time away to do some path working. 2017 has been a year whereby I mostly focused on my creativity (writing) but also reading. Learning as much as possible about different pagan paths to understand where I fit in. I hope to return here to talk more about my pathworking and writing.
I believe that woodland and nature plays an integral part in many, if not all, pagan paths. So this lovely video by The Woodland Trust explains what is ancient woodland.
By being an antidote, a sovereign antidote, for passivity. For the basic fact about poetry is that it demands participation, from the secret physical echo in muscle and nerve that identifies us with the medium, to the imaginative enactment that stirs the deepest recesses where life-will and values reside. Beyond that, it nourishes our life-will in the process of testing our values. And this is not to be taken as implying a utilitarian aesthetic. It is, rather, one way of describing our pleasure in poetry as an adventure in the celebration of life.
Nothing else does quite as much for most people, not even the other arts. We are a wordy species. Words are the wings both intellect and imagination fly on. Music, dance, visual arts, crafts of all kinds, all are central to human development and well-being, and no art or skill is ever useless learning; but to train the mind to take off from immediate reality and return to it with new understanding and new strength, nothing quite equals poem and story
Ursula K. Le Guin
It is difficult to put into words ‘inspiration’, but this quote jumped out of me from a blog post talking about the importance of imagination in her book Words Are My Matter: Writings About Life and Books, 2000–2016, with a Journal of a Writers Week. It inspired me to keep reading and writing and being imaginative. I instantly experienced flashbacks of being read to as a child and my Dad doing all the voices for different characters. My imagination is now important to me as a means of meditation and reflection.
I love this statement.
I love this blog for travel ideas and day rip ideas for London. I highly recommend her style and approach to blogging!
I know I’m in Stratford-upon-Avon as soon as I see the swans. Their white feathers glide back and forth as canal boats motor under bridges and past theaters. The birds barely give me a glance as I walk alongside them, but even their indifference can’t dampen my enthusiasm for this place. It’s my third visit…
via Lady’s Weekend in Stratford-upon-Avon — A Lady in London
Waking in the morning to the song of blackbirds outside the bedroom window, it is time to rise. Pulling on a tracksuit and trainers, grabbing a bottle of water and the dog lead it is time to pound the paths. Opening the door the sun shines brightly and the song of blackbirds and now starlings compel you out of the door. There is no need for ear phones and pop songs, at this time of the morning just after sunrise there are no crass noise of car engines or children; just sleepy bedroom windows, you and the birds.
Jogging through the meadow to the opposite spiral of houses the birds pass on their calls to the next tree and the next. At the halfway point you stop and rest, stretching out on the ground amongst the tall grasses. Meditating with closed eyes all of natures sounds become amplified. Buzzing bees, shushing grass and trees, birds and the sound of your own steady breath next to your companions.
Continuing to job the rest of the way back home other homes begin to stir, the occasional car starts and begins its journey, the pure sounds of life around you begin to fade into the background now. No music is sweeter than that of life and its ebbing and flowing nature.