Peregrinations

Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 33:

The two-lane highway trudged up hill and dipped down dale through villages built of stern, square brown stone that seemed to frown upon strangers passing through.
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Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 30

Back in her room, she pushed back the gauzy curtain and opened the window to the night air. All shapes and sizes of chimney pots on the rooftops of Ambleside stood out in black relief against a star-struck sky. Somewhere out there the shade of her father might be still in deep conversation with William Wordsworth.
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Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 29

Ambleside resembled a study in grey, brown, and green. Just down the street, an ancient wooden water wheel rose high and dry from a stone well beside an ivied wall.
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Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 26
It was a garden. Rife with pink and purple foxglove in heart-stopping profusion. Sunny faces of orange and yellow daisies. Blue delicacies of delphinium. Papery petals of white carnations, and tiny red tea roses climbing a half-timbered wall. Sophie sat on a wooden bench in a willow bower, a cool green refuge from the Kandinsky canvas of color that stood between her and the large, thatched house.
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Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 25

The [countryside] rolled past her window, a scroll of green meadows which disappeared over one hill and up another, and the deeper green of tree tops rose like shrubbery from the intervening vales. Here and there gabled houses gathered the warmth of the noonday sun into their golden stone walls, adding an aura of comfort to their austere facades.

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Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 23:

Empty stone arches framed the afternoon sky one moment, dark trees on the hills beyond, the next. Would she find her father here?

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Ghosts of the Heart, Chapter 23

The Severn Bridge rose in a silvery white expanse of towers and slender cables shining against the blue, blue sky.

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Ghosts of the Heart, Ch. 20:

Late summer flowers bloomed around a stepped pool where the water trickled down a series of stone bowls. At her feet stood a round stone carved with a Celtic spiral design, like the fossil of a gigantic snail. She wanted nothing more than to sit by the pool and bathe in the serenity that permeated the space. But George had been specific. The immediate area surrounding the Well itself. If her mother and Max had come here, that’s where they would be. That’s where they would be safe.

Chapter 19, Ghosts of the Heart, A Novel by Barbara Stoner Read more about The Spiral Path