High up on Blubell Hill, if you look out between the twin pines, a tableau is laid out before you, a tableau of green and brown with a ceiling of blue. In the distance you can see the sea, a few miles away.
Turn around back towards the hill top and you will see Mr Grigg doing his exercises. He touches his toes and a spaniel runs through his legs. He reaches down one side of his thigh and then down to the other.
This is his three-times-a-week routine, so if you ever venture up here and see a strange man stretching on the hilltop, you will know exactly who it is.
Inland, you gaze from a gateway down through the fields planted with maize, the straight lines giving perspective to this picture and pointing you in the direction of The Enchanted Village.
In the Square, the church bells are ringing for a farming wedding. You see people in their village finery, women with fascinators in blow-dried hair, little children in Sunday best and strapping young men in top hats and tails.
Tonight there will be a party in the village hall. And among the guests will be Number One Son, who is coming home to celebrate his old school friend's nuptials.
And woe betide the man who lives over the road from the hall should he decide to make a countryside scene and complain about the noise. This farming family is known far and wide. They're the Ewings of Lush Places. He might just find himself up a hayrick without a ladder.
And quite right too.
That's about it.
Living in Greece for the past couple of months, I've been asked what the refugee situation is like here. Well, to be perfectly hones...
Oh my. Dorset is going to be bathed in swathes of light. The spotlight is literally turning on Hardy's Dorset, rural Dorset, that buco...
About seven weeks ago, I wrote a piece for my column in the oldest woman's weekly magazine in the world, The People's Friend . ...
For eleven years, this was my holiday. Not bad for a confirmed landlubber. It all began in 2004 when Mr Grigg and I were looking for a ...
That's about it. Love Maddie x