Moments in Time

by Mark Wood

 As I sit here on the only flat piece of land that exists at St. Olaves house, it re-enforces that the life we create has nothing to do with luck. Eight weeks ago, we left the comfort of our normal life, to live a life on the road, not knowing what we would be doing or where we would be each day.

Eight weeks of adventure has brought us to this idyllic place at the top of Dartmoor in Devon, where the views take your breath away, and the kaleidoscope of wildflowers stop you in your stride. 

You can hear the hypnotic flow of the river Teign at the bottom of the property, it reminds you that if you are fluid with your thoughts you can navigate around any hurdle in life.

It is a simple way of life; you work a few hours a day in exchange for a bed and food. It makes me think of how life must have been for people before it all got so complicated, no money is exchanged. It is a cultural exchange of knowledge and skills, where both sides benefit from meeting each other.

We have cooked for each other, using lots of naturally grown ingredients from Jon and Jane’s amazing garden. We have drunk homemade ginger beer, just like my Nan used to make, there’s been elderflower drink that tastes as fresh as the morning air. Each evening isn’t complete without the herb tea, taken from the garden as the kettle boils, lemon verbena being my favourite, it reminds me of lemon sherbet drops.

You see, when you slow down a bit you start to notice that the world is full of magical moments. The secret is to be in those moments completely, every sense being used to connect to what is in front of you.

Whether it is weeding a vegetable garden, sanding a new worktop you have put in, pruning bushes, feeding the chickens and the quails, picking fresh raspberries, cold water swimming in the river Teign, picking wildflowers for the daily vase, making compost, sitting around a firepit, watering the plants, listening to the huge array of wildlife, the list could go on. But these are just some of the magical moments we have been able to experience through doing this workaway.   

Life is not easier if you follow your dreams, Jon, and Jane work hard every day to create this paradise hidden in the hills of Dartmoor. It may not be everybody’s dream, but it is theirs. It hasn’t come to them by luck, they made big decisions and changes for it to exist.

Karen and I are both grateful they did because it has given us the opportunity to experience something life affirming, even just for a short moment in time.

Workaway is a wonderful opportunity to learn, exchange skills, meet people you wouldn’t normally and have fun.

Saint Olaves' Owls

Laura Sangha (guest blogpost)

Baby Tawny owl underneath one of the Giant Redwoods

Let’s be honest. When Jane and Jon asked if we might like to do some house sitting for them this summer we absolutely leapt at the chance. Since moving to Devon twelve years ago we’ve had endless fun exploring its huge variety of habitats, from its rolling hills and history-rich towns, its two coastlines with their craggy shores and red sandstone cliffs, its piney plantations, its muddy estuaries, harbours and havens, and its stony and sandy beaches. Perhaps most of all, like so many before us, we have felt the inexorable pull of Dartmoor and have spent many happy (and some rather soggy) hours pottering under its huge skies, stomping up towering tors, taking photos of beech trees growing out of stone walls and dipping in its (mostly icy) rivers. So what better than a couple of nights on the edge of the moor, immersing ourselves in the sights and sounds and smells of this stunning landscape, from the comfort of beautiful St Olaves House?

And St Olaves was kind to us indeed. We spent hours watching birds around and on the feeders (house sparrows, great and blue tits, siskin, chaffinch, jackdaws, blackbirds, magpies, pigeons, nuthatch and even a greater spotted woodpecker muscled its way in). We wandered endlessly and marvelled at our luck to be there for two days of beautiful sunshine, showing everything at its very best. The gardens and grounds are a riot of dayglo spring greens, flowers are bursting out everywhere, the birds are in a frenzy while the somnolent buzz of insects accompanies you wherever you go. We made friends with the chickens by giving them sunflower seeds and peeked at the quails, discovering that they are expert egg hiders. We took a wander down the river and braved the stepping stones (not so brave, the river was very low), and I woke in the night to spy bright bright stars glinting in the skylight over my head.

Tawny owl in the trees at St Olaves

As if that wasn’t enough, St Olaves had one final treat in store for us too. For as we wandered up from the orchard garden early in the afternoon, I spotted an out of place indistinct grey shape on the branches at the base of a giant redwood (giant redwood!) a little away from us. Taking out my camera I was able to confirm with the zoom that it was what I suspected – a tawny owlet! It was initially facing away, but it caught wind of us and turned to pin us with two shiny black orbs – quite an unnerving sight amidst all the fluffy grey mess of its young and underdeveloped feathers.

We kept our distance and left it alone, but it played on our minds as it was quite exposed to predators, close to the ground and not showing signs that it was able to fly well, if at all. Given the wonderful weather we decided to sleep out at the shepherd’s hut that evening, which was not far from where the owlet was perched, so we knew that it hadn’t moved at all in the afternoon. However, at dusk we realised it had disappeared, which we took to be an encouraging sign as we hadn’t heard any obvious sounds of distress. Soon after that we spotted the tell-tale shapes of large birds swooping in the trees around us, suggesting the owls were on the move, and when I popped to use the compost loo I could actually hear a bird in an oak tree nearby, calling, presumably for a parent. After standing still for a while I was able to make out the distinct silhouette of our little fluffy friend in the tree, and just as I did, I saw the parent fly in and feed the young one. Leaving them to it, we heard the owlet calling most of the night, and in the morning I took particular care to scan the trees nearby and was yet again rewarded with the sight of one of these magnificent and mysterious birds, this time an older one taking a very well earned rest.