one

We've been in 47 for one month, it seems more like 4 months but alas only one. I can't say the old adage that time has flown, it doesn't feel like it has, rather we have been blessed with some slow and some very fast moving days. May I take some time to list a number of facets I enjoy about living in Overton or our little cottage? I'm going to anyway since I'm the one writing this entry, so here goes...
Blackberries - I know I've been on about them before but how amazing is the fact I can stroll through the garden arrive at a patch, pick till my hearts content and it costs me nothing except the random scratch or sting from a nettle
Duck Races - I saw one once in Watkins Glen, the little rubber duckies were pummeled by rushing water, some actually made it across the finish line. The Overton duck race was not as quickly paced. A meandering, gorgeous plot of the Test River (how it's a river I'm not sure, there is more water in ditch behind Burt Hall's house) is used as the "race" course. Hundreds of little duckies each numbered are placed and then coaxed through human wave making to make it about 400 yards down stream. All the while the wooded/muddy path that goes along the river teams with people, stalls selling jewelry and cakes, with a man on a portable pa system shouting play-by-play of each race. I wish that words could explain the afternoon spent at Flashetts watching the ducks, rooting for numbers 45, 73 and 145 but in the end we didn't win any race, maybe next time we'll mentally prepare our duck better for the race
Doorknocker - These don't exist in America except maybe in New England or somewhere older, but remember I'm in England not new England and our door is 250 years young at this point. It has an impressive handle which is a huge and I mean huge knob, one can't wrap their hand around it if attempting to hold on to a grocery bag or anything else for that matter. What I really enjoy is the doorknocker, it is sort of like our 18th century version of a door bell. It doesn't work well, it's meant to forcefully strike against a metal ball that emits a loud "knock", ours doesn't forcefully move hence it doesn't emit a loud knock more of a sound when you slap a feather (as you do), needless we don't realize people at our house until they peer into the windows
mourning doves - their voice is often heard, they are ever present, much like God in a way, much like God to deposit us into this village to experience such life altering facets such as blackberries, duck races and a poorly working doorknocker.
edr of overton