Just back yesterday from two days in Cornwall. Sujan had told me there was a woman there I should meet. He was right. Her name is Ba Miller and she and her late husband were dowsers. She has a little guest cottage she rents out. She is 83 now and looks younger than I do, for which I should hate her, but she is really a wonderful person, impossible not to love. They developed their land, which is on the side of a hill almost at the tip of England, planting 1500 trees so now there is a great woods. Like being in Middle Earth, with the bunnies hopping out on the grass, which Ba assures me just appears when you chop down all the bracken.
It rained the first morning I was there, so I read in my comfy room and talked with Ba in her kitchen. Then she drove me around the tip of the coast, through the tourist town of St. Ives, jammed during school break, surfers in wet suits, then out across the hills looking out over the fields unchanged since Medieval times. She showed me St. Michael’s Mount, a smaller version of Mont Saint Michel, where she says powerful ley lines cross.
I could have stayed there longer, but had to get back to Somerset to pack up for the trip home. On the way, I drove through some of the Dartmoor Downs, which are beautiful, dramatic rolling hills and valleys. I stopped at Truro, the capital of Cornwall to see the cathedral. And at another National Trust house, Colehele, which has been in the same family for 600 years. Without much modification. It is reached by several miles of one lane road, so it was surprising to find it full of vacationers and their children. It is great how these houses and the museums provide “adventures” for the kids to discover clues to history. From the tiny lane I was soon back on the motorway, doing 80 back to Somerset. Really has been a lovely trip.