On being back in Cornwall, and knowing it’s right.

Travel is a wonderful thing.

My deep curiosity means that there is rarely enough time, anywhere.

If I have the energy I want to learn what’s going on, why it’s happening, and what the result is.

The India trip could have been a couple of months and still I’d feel that I had only scratched the surface.

A particularly great thing about seeing different parts of the world is the appreciation it gives you for home.

I have never loved the train back to Cornwall from London as much as I did on Saturday.

We’re blessed with such rich and varied countryside in Britain, and seeing it in bright winter sunshine while the last of the yellow and orange leaves cling to the trees makes for a great journey.

And then to wake in the far west crowns it all.

As winter approaches I have to remind myself that I love the dark months for all that they offer – expect that darkness. Any day now I’ll see my first daffodils flowering in the fields, and then they’ll carry on smiling at us through until early April when the first hints of spring will lead us onwards.

I love to be out walking as dawn breaks, and as dusk falls, and of course doing both is so much easier in winter.

The Cape on a perfect winter's day.

The Cape on a perfect winter’s day.

This morning there were patches of frost as Polly and I set out on one of our favourite walks. As it got light the steam was rising from the Nancherrow stream, and the light was perfect by the time we could see the cove at Porth Ledden at the end of the valley.

I’d have liked to sit a while and take it all in, but frosts are so rare down here and I hadn’t layered up enough for being still. We forged onwards, back up around the golf course towards St Just in time to see the sun rise over the little church tower. It was simple, and utterly beautiful.

Then this afternoon we set off in time to enjoy the last of the sun and then walk into darkness as we pulled up from the Cape.

On the top of Kenidjack I was delighted to spot a pair of choughs among some crows. They all flew up at our approach, but we waited for them to roost again and what I was watching was far better than I’d even imagined. There weren’t two choughs, there were seven. I’ve never seen more than three together before.

Wheal Owles looked as beautiful as I can imagine is possible.

Wheal Owles at its very best.

Wheal Owles at its very best.

It has been one of winter’s perfect days.

I know there’ll be grim times when the fog settles for hours, days even. There’ll be driving rain. We might even get snow, but it’s unlikely here.

But all we need to do is get out there, and know how lucky we are.

It was easy to conclude that…

Coming home to the far west is never hard.