Turning off the country road and onto Wishbone’s long drive the two of us began to feel the magic happening. Rows of autumn trees offered their amber salutes as we pressed on, going through the gate, and pulling up outside the stables where a friendly nose poked inquisitively out of the window.
Excitement built as we navigated the short path from the car to Wishbone’s raised patio, finally rushing to press our noses to the window as if it were a toy shop at Christmas. Able to wait no longer we went inside and as the warmth washed over us we were greeted by stretching wood beams, a stout stone floor, and one very enormous clock! The first night was spent exploring the Barn, playing music in the hayloft, and cooking wonderful and scandalous treats in the Everhot range.
The next morning we drew back the curtains and gasped at the softness of the morning light dappled over the patio and garden. Quickly furnishing ourselves with mugs of tea and slices of cake from the generous welcome hamper left for us by the owners we wandered among the apple trees in the garden, the dew and occasional windfall settling around our feet, and watched the squirrels play in the sun. One thing that really stuck with us was the overwhelming quiet, roaming the nearby fields and woods we really did feel like the only two people in the world.
Never ones to shy from a little physical exertion we strapped up our walking boots and set off up the Malvern Hills to experience the views from the top of the Beacon. What met us were stretching fields and clusters of towns punctuated by church steeples and thick gatherings of trees. When our legs eventually tired we rushed back to our haven and collapsed onto the sofa.
Each day at Wishbone was a gift, we’ve never experienced such blissful serenity as we did within those stone walls and crunching through golden leaves along the woodland paths. We were sad but content as we slipped the key back in the door and closed it behind us to leave, we knew it couldn’t be ours forever but we couldn’t help feeling like a small piece of us will remain there once we’d gone. Now Wishbone sits, sunlight dancing over it while the horses frolic in the fields, waiting for your story to begin.
