I remember well the peculiar purity of the blue sky seen through the white clusters of apple blossom in spring. I remember looking at it one morning on my way to school. It meant something for me… what, I couldn’t say. It gave me an unease at heart, some reaching out towards perfection.. some sense of the transcendence of things, of the fragility of our hold upon life. Spring, the pure sunlight falling over the hills in waves under the cloudless blue. It was always morning, early morning in that daydream.
– A. L. Rowse - A Cornish Childhood (1942)
