In May of 2006 my husband and I did a walking tour in the Cotswolds. Today's misty, rainy weather reminded me of that amazing ten days, spent in some of the most beautiful countryside and charming villages imaginable. Yes, it rained almost everyday but never did it dampen our spirits.
We signed up with a company that set up an itinerary for us, booked us in each night at a different inn or bed and breakfast, gave us good maps, and arranged to have our luggage transported from one stop to the next. We were on our own, tramping through fields, meadows, pastures, woods, and villages, carrying only day packs. There's a wonderful system of public footpaths, often hundreds of years old, well marked and running through private and public land alike, from one village to the next.
The homes and villages are sometimes so beautiful that I found myself absolutely aching with longing to live there. A foolish dream, as even the tiniest of quaint cottages starts around a million dollars.
But irrational longing aside, it was a beautiful place to be in May, walking through the lush, green fields, blue-bell woods and villages built of golden limestone -- thinking of hobbits and Miss Marple and Harriet Vane.
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