Springhead in Autumn

When dawn breaks over the lake at Springhead, sunbeams ensnare trailing mists that linger around the ancient trees, their reflections sharpening as they shrink in stature before a rising sun. It is an otherworldly scene that has been played countless times over, bridging the centuries separating anĀ  erstwhile ancient Celtic shrine from a twenty-first century garden. 'I was born here, and spent my childhood running wild in the garden with my two brothers,' says Rosalind Richards who returned a few years back after the garden fell into disrepair. Today, the lake's waters are clear and, on a still morning, so unruffled as to mirror precisely a charming stone rotunda that overlooks the lake, a favourite place for Rosalind to play her violin, to picnic or quietly watch the sun go down.

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