Memory is a funny thing, don’t you think? Exactly one month ago today hubby and I were meandering about the gardens of this delightful old Inn and today it seems like nothing more then a faded dream. It’s strange how time swiftly flows from one season to the next.
I could easily imagine myself living in this weence Tudor cottage beyond the enchanted garden gate. On cold misty mornings I’d sit by the window sipping a hot cup of tea while gazing out the leaded glass panes.
Or I may decide to linger by the window seat on the upper landing while listening to the birds serenading in the trees.
Perhaps one would land on the open sill and whistle a tune from exotic lands far far away.
Then I would ready myself for whatever the day might bring.
I’d tip toe out the door, through the gate, and across the lawn to the old stone arch. I’d pass beneath all the brambly leaves and moss growing in its shade. I’d step out into the sun and wish the world a good morning.
All Pictures taken on the grounds of the English Inn Victoria B.C.