Every autumn, when the mornings turn cool and the evenings draw close, the swallows gather along the creek — their wings catching the last gold of summer as they circle higher and higher before turning south. They travel thousands of miles, following invisible paths across seas and continents, guided by instinct and light. Watching them go always stirs something deep — a mix of longing and quiet knowing.
When we chose the name Gwennel — Cornish for swallow — it wasn’t just for the sound of it, though it feels soft and full of air, like the bird itself. It was for what the swallow means: return, freedom, navigation, homecoming. The swallow is a traveller who always finds her way back to where she began, no matter how far she roams.
Our boat carries that spirit. She’s a creature of movement and migration — a small, determined voyager powered by wind and tide, following her own invisible routes across the water. Just as the swallows trace the changing seasons, we’ll follow the shifting weather and light, finding home in each anchorage, each horizon.
There’s a quiet poetry in knowing that From the Swallow began here, beside the same creek where the swallows gather each year. Their flight reminds me that journeys don’t always have to be fast or straight — they can be cyclical, gentle, full of pause and return. Like them, we’re not running from anything — just following the pull of the sky.
And perhaps that’s what From the Swallow is really about — finding small ways to carry that feeling of freedom and belonging into everyday life. A reminder that even when we’re still, part of us can always be in flight.
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