I've been quiet lately because Tony and I have had a few days staying with my sister, brother-in-law, and the cats in Northumberland. This year has been a truly golden autumn and walking or driving under arches of trees is magical. Coming home in the evenings, the misty light turned the Cheviot Hills blue and grey and and blended them in and out of the sky.
I was reminded of a favourite poem, 'Northumberland', by Wilfred Wilson Gibson, who lived in Hexham.
Heatherland and bent-land
Black land and white,
God bring me to Northumberland,
the land of my delight.
Land of singing waters
And winds from off the sea,
God bring me to Northumberland,
The land where I would be.
Heatherland and bent-land,
And valleys rich with corn,
God bring me to Northumberland,
The land where I was born.
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