Burley’s Apple Pressing Festival

Burley’s Apple Pressing Festival

It feels like autumn has already passed by in a flash, a fleeting moment of oranges and browns, but looking back, the start of the season feels a long way behind. In the wake of Bonfire Night, it’s too easy to start thinking about what’s coming next. One thing that slow living has taught me, however, is to …
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A Rainy Day in Lymington

A Rainy Day in Lymington

We celebrated the autumn equinox a day earlier with a visit to one of our favourite towns, Lymington. Predictably, the weather chose to embrace the shift in season but the rain only added to the atmosphere. We escaped from the cold to one of our favourite haunts, Stanwell House Hotel. With a cosy countryside interior and citrus spiced tea on&…
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Floral Dreams at Setley Ridge, Brockenhurst

Floral Dreams at Setley Ridge, Brockenhurst

Following our quaint morning in Brockenhurst, we continued the theme for the day by exploring Setley Ridge, a compact but lovely garden centre not far from the village. It was thanks to Rosie Lea’s Tearoom back in the village that we came to know this place. Hosting its sister kitchen, Setley Ridge is not only a haven for the …
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A Morning in Brockenhurst

A Morning in Brockenhurst

Weekends in the New Forest are always relaxing yet adventurous, the perfect blend. Brockenhurst, where we spent our Saturday morning, is known as the gateway to the Forest and is probably most known for that very reason. Despite this, we’ve never really given it much thought, preferring our own little village of Burley and other towns like Lyndhurst and …
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Burley in the Snow

Burley in the Snow

Waking up to find the New Forest covered in a thick blanket of snow was a lovely surprise, despite my constant wish for it to be spring now. Here in the south of England, we don’t see weather like this very often so when it arrives, there’s always an element of excitement to be found. After yesterday’s …
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Snow in March

Snow in March

There’s a flurry of snowflakes outside, swirling with every blustery gale as I’m writing this. I’m perched by the window, the warmth of the fire in the room, my legs stretched over the radiator for extra heat. Some of the flakes have settled on top of the rosebush in the garden, with its pink flowers blooming in …
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