I've been dreaming of a countryside escape as of late, and if you've been reading my blog at all, you'd know that this isn't the first time, and most certainly won't be the last. I've been craving the whispering silence of golden fields and grey skies, of stoney walls and prickly bushes. Outings where the movement between my horse and I match that of the wind and tall grasses. Not a stuffy, grand English countryside like Downton Abbey, but an earthier, homier one, à la Amanda Brooks or Harlech. A place where manmade objects, such as cottages and saddles, appear to be a natural occurrence within the perfectly chaotic landscape. The refined wilderness that only a British country could bring. Tweeds, tartans, and knits are another part of the natural environment. Vines overgrow in a hug around your home. The thistle-laden highlands of Scotland, the rolling hills of England, or perhaps the patchwork-greenery of Wales would all work; they all serve as a place of perfection and my type of, highly desired, country.
Edie again, this time with Otis Ferry.
Lady A. Harlech again.
Her home and hound.
Her, home, and horse.
Harlech and Horse.
Amanda Brooks' dog. Any animal would love to romp around those paths.
Amanda Brooks' country.