Our guests have come from all corners of the world - England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, Eire, France, Sweden, The Netherlands, Australia, Canada, South Africa and the United States of America.

Here, feel the warmth of breeze out from the white-flecked blue,
And catch the stilted chattering as the swallows hang, suspended,
In gusty breath high in the bright-topped roofs.

Then watch,
The dark ranked wavering rows of shadowed trees,
And hear the whispering rustle of the restless palm.
Gaze out across the gentle stir of luscious vines,
Row upon row of sunned greens and purple promise,
Drifting on the white-rocked deepness of the drying earth.

Now, catch a brief moment,
Sharp-shadowed, with the stinging heat of baked stone,
Hopping, hot-toed, to the rippling cool beyond the clicking gate.

At last,
As white-specked darkness etches out the fine edged hills,
And shadows deepen into the clear air,
As framed around the patio edge,
The black smooth grapes nod gracious greetings to the end of day,
And flickering lights wink on across the distant slope,
Hear the mellow clang of watchful time and drink it in.
This place here, in the vines.

Lindsey DAVIES, 12 August 2011