Dear Reader,

We may just be hurtling to the final fence in this house selling saga. But you know what they say, it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. And I’m not singing! Mixed metaphors aside, we’re deep in sorting, sifting, de-cluttering and packing. The dogs are hiding.

Meanwhile, in cruel disregard to our cares, the weather this month has been wonderful. Dry, sunny days and clear, crisp nights. Just as I’m preparing to leave, Herefordshire is flaunting its October beauty in my face. Scrolling through some old posts, I came across one I wrote about the same time last year. As I pack up my beloved house, it has an added poignancy.

Herefordshire: a love letter.

I’m writing this at the close of another incandescent Herefordshire autumn day. The clouds are gathering temporarily before a cold, starlit night and it’s time to light the wood-burner. When I took the dogs out earlier, it was one of those glorious mornings which made everyone greet us with a smile and a cheery hello.

Herefordshire is beautiful at any time of the year but it’s in autumn when this rural shire really comes into its own. It’s the gentle pleasures I enjoy: a freshly ploughed field, with the sun gleaming on the red clay furrows, the sweet and all-pervading smell of apples in Hereford city from Bulmer’s cider making and a delicately frosted cobweb.

This autumn we’ve been lucky with the weather and have basked in clear, dry sunshine on most days. The county draws its fair share of tourists who come for the all-year, all-weather attractions like walking in the unspoilt and peaceful countryside, great food, cider and beer! Not to mention the picturesque half-timbered villages, several beautiful National Trust houses, Marches border castles and a stonking load of history.

It’s a secretive county, characterised by a slow pace of life, traditional values and wrapped around with myth and folklore.

I forgive it the appalling mud on the winter roads, the odour of fertiliser in the spring. I’m willing to overlook my dodgy mobile signal and slow Broadband. I can even put up with the miles and miles to the nearest airport; after all, when you live here, why would you want to be anywhere else?

To celebrate it dressed in all its autumn finery, I’ll raise a glass of cider, enjoy some organically raised beef and munch into a freshly harvested apple. Herefordshire – you provide the good things in life!

Love,

Georgia x