Two weekends ago I took the train to Dorset, or "encountered the delights of the British railroad," as my housemate Rachel puts it. I was to stay the weekend at a lodge, a haven for fugitives such as myself. I was joined by others in my Master's degree and it was wonderful and terrible at the same time. It was exhausting. I am not nearly as social as I pretend to be. I don't think the others were either.
The bed-and-breakfast Sunnyside Farm, where some of the students stayed for the weekend.
The Dorset Wildlife Trust provided boots for anyone wishing to take a stroll through the untouched countryside. I borrowed a pair and went wading through the River Hook with a net and an innate sense of curiosity.
The blackberries were in season.
I took this out a car window on our way to the beach.
On the last day of the writers' retreat, I stopped by Sunnyside Farm and had tea with Mandy, the owner and hostess. Her two dogs were about and with her permission, I took this picture of one of them in her living room.