One of the first spots outside of the London area I visited in England with My Beloved Brit after we were first married was Cornwall. His cousin lives there, who is like the brother he never had, and we drove the few hours west from Heathrow to visit.
I was groggy from jet lag (MBB had come over early to do some racing so he was my chauffeur), but I do remember the drive and the beautiful quilted hills. That was my name for those multicolored fields that were criss-crossed with hedgerows and pressed by endless sky.
It was home to MBB, and even when I woke up enough to register my astonishment that we had just driven past Stonehenge, he was rather unimpressed. To him, it was just a familiar distance marker on the many trips he had made in his life from London to Cornwall.
We ended up in an area near St. Austell called Carlyon Bay where the hills finally met the sea. From the tall bluffs you could look across the hydrangeas and see the rolling hills. The cliffs were dotted with small inns and hotels, and we found a charming one called Porth Avallen Country House Hotel overlooking St. Austell Bay.
Perched on the sea road, it was friendly and relaxed. The labyrinth of hallways and staircases only added to the old fashioned charm, and we were perfectly happy. Even more perfect, as soon as you walked outside, you could see the most amazing views.
The colors were beautiful and no matter which way you walked along the seaside road, the views were a painting waiting to happen.
But finally I saw the one that really held my interest. It was lovely.
That lone house on the edge of all those gorgeous hills. There was something so isolated about it and yet, it was totally connected with its surroundings. You could just imagine curling up in one of it’s windowseats with a good book and a quilt.
I painted it hoping to capture that feeling, and now I love that painting. It means domestic bliss in a wild world.