I pause in wonder, at the sight of the Great Lawn below, with its sparkling lily pond and make my way to the Sundial at its upper end. I reach it just before a group of school children, on a nature study outing. I brought many children here, during my teaching years, and just for fun, I read aloud the inscription on the dial.
Horas Signo I indicate the hours
Umbra Movente By shadow moving
Flores Gigno I bring forth the flowers
Luce Fovente By sunlight nurtured.
I point out the time. The children check their watches to see if the sundial is correct!
I walk on down to the Avenue of old Oaks, their gnarled leafless branches waiting for Spring. I look towards the mountain once more and hear again, my three year old daughter’s words, as we stood beneath these trees, over 40 years ago.
“Mummy,” she said, clasping my hand to make sure she had my full attention. “This place is full of angels!”