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  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: October

    Kingcombe is not just a place for enjoying the natural world, but for changing the way we view it, for telling new stories about our relationship with it.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: September

    The world was alive, rushing and swooping along with the last three swifts of summer like skipping stones across a green and storm-tossed sea.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: August

    The hottest, driest June on record had simply extended unbroken into July…

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: July

    The hottest, driest June on record had simply extended unbroken into July, and apart from one brief downpour, which barely managed to soak the topsoil, looked set to unroll till the end of summer.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: June

    It was a typical English summer’s day, in that it felt like early November and I was regretting not bringing my gloves. The wind clawed through the sycamore and chestnuts, yanking their leaves back at the wrist and setting their silver undersides streaming, while above them, the hilltops vanished into the low-bellied clouds.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: May

    I walked along the lane leading up to the Wessex Ridgeway, the way I’d come in January.  The trees had lost the sharp distinction of winter, and even the crisp pointillism of early spring had given way to a kind of blurring – a soft wash of green.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: April

    The trees, still mainly leafless, maintained their wintery silhouettes, but there was a sort of haze, a shimmer, in their upper branches now, like a whisper made visible, the hint of new growth, the gathering of the green storm.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: March

    For the team at Kingcombe, the garden’s design and layout is geared far more to visitors with six or eight legs than two. In one corner is a well-stocked bug hotel, thoughtfully kitted out with bits of twig and straw, flowerpots stuffed with hollow bamboo stems, pinecones, hunks of mossy bark and scrolls of corrugated card. The only thing that’s missing is a little swinging sign saying ‘Vacancies’.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: February

    When I squatted down for a closer look, it revealed itself to be not stone but bone: the skull of a small mammal, the filigree of bone exposed on the underside, half a jaw, with a good set of teeth, lying separately. Hans Holbein couldn’t have devised it more perfectly: shift your angle just a little, look at something askance, and there’s a death’s head grinning back at you.

  • A Year in Kingcombe by Anita Roy: January

    Kingcombe is a quietly enchanting place. The people are few, the cars are fewer and the wild world is left largely to its own devices.

  • South West Poetry Tour #6 – David Sergeant & Mike Rose-Steel

    The South West Poetry Tour was a 5 day collaborative initiative curated by Camilla Nelson and Steven Fowler in August 2016. The tour consisted of collaborative poetic performances at The Barbara Hepworth Museum…

  • South West Poetry Tour #5 – Annabel Banks & Matti Spence

    The South West Poetry Tour was a 5 day collaborative initiative curated by Camilla Nelson and Steven Fowler in August 2016. The tour consisted of collaborative poetic performances at The Barbara Hepworth Museum…