'We walked back through the arch, pushed open the green front door, and were in a large hall. I shall never forget the smell of that house. Logs, lavender and damp, the old scent of a house that has been full of flowers for so many eras that the very pollen and flower pots stay behind intangibly enchanting ~ candles and drapes ~ weak aged taffeta stretched on the chairs ~ drops of sherry left in fragile shallow glasses ~ nectarines and strawberries ~ the warm earthy confidential odour of enormous books and butterfly smell of the pages, a combination of leather and moth ~ dense glassy mahogany ripe with polishing and the sun ~ guns and old coats ~ smooth dead fur on the glaring sentimental deers' heads ~ beeswax, brown sugar, and smoke ~ it smelled of everything I first remember seeing there, and I shall never forget it.'
Images taken by me
Abberley, Worcestershire, UK