to the sea...

the beautiful, wild and wonderful sea

heaving, thundering, rhythmic... changing colour as it moves

these pictures are from cornwall... we were there just days ago

the finest rain ever - they call it "mizzle"

oddly enough, that's the colour of the painted breakfast room at a b&b we stayed at, weeks before in scotland - I asked...

mizzle...  i called it "water in the air", too fine for rain, too much for mist

i actually didn't mind it so much, except you can get awfully wet, awfully fast

cold, wet, wind - just what you'd expect for his time of year

we walked on the beach, around the headland, facing the wind and spray full on

cornwall is not for the faint of heart

i realized as i gazed around, the colours before me are my preferred palette, the colours of he sand and sea, the rocks and sky - i first learned them in the yukon, on marsh lake

i like how the mist makes everything seem to be out of focus - sometimes i think the world is easier to take if it's a little out of focus, a little less sharp around the edges...

the days are winding down now, we have only three left... thoughts are turning toward home, slowly it creeps back into the conscious

my mind is so full of all we have seen and done, all i have thought - the philosopher in me has been very busy... I have so much to tell you

but first, i have so much to pack!

dreams

                                                          a dream comes true...

               at eight years old, or maybe nine... certainly before ten, i dreamed of going to scotland

                      to a little village called tillicoultry, where somewhere around ninety-five years go,

                                                           my great-grandparents lived

   

                               at the foot of the ochil hills, nine miles east of stirling

                                               yesterday I walked it's streets

                                  a small little place that has loomed large in my mind

we wandered about, looking for the creek, or perhaps "burn" is the word i should be using

made my way to upper mill street, where I think at one time or another, very far back, 

even more distant relatives made their home - the house they lived in is gone now, replaced with another, but it was enough to just be in the area, to trod the streets and look on their hills

   rather than finding family homes, i contented myself with taking pictures of houses i liked

       and i knew this was "my place" when I stumbled across this sign outside of a pub...

                                                               love it!

                                   we also took time to visit the wallace monument

   

     

                                          william wallace, of braveheart fame

                                         the monument stands high on the hills, 

                    overlooking the ancient city of stirling, and it's surrounding fields

                               

   

                                                    scotland's freedom hero 

                           you can climb to the top of the monument, all 246 steps...

                           i didn't even get half-way up before i started feeling dizzy,

 the stairs being of the typical castle variety: rising steep and narrow, twisting round and round,                                  

                    with small slits that allow the wind to whistle and swirl all around

many deep breaths and some much-needed coaxing and support from marc helped me make it      

     all the way - can't truthfully say i enjoyed the view from the top but i was thrilled i made it

                                  freedom for scotland and it's people was his dream

                    climbing his monument seemed a fitting way to honour that dream

                                                        so, so, so glad i did it

                                                      dreams never forgotten

"i've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind."

                                              - emily bronte, wuthering heights

scenic Scotland

aye, it's scenic alright...

we took the train to kyle of localsh on the west coast, just across from the isle of skye

a two hour plus train ride from inverness, but a country apart in scenery...

the hebridean sea, the islands, and of course, the mountains, the latter covered lightly with heather and bracken, wearing it like the lightest cloak, it smoothed out the edges, adding a softness to them you just can't find in our rocky mountains

we spent the better part of five hours hiking up to the lookout, walking the path that followed the highway, going halfway to the top of he bridge before my nerves gave out - crazy high with no guard rail between the sidewalk and the roadway, with cars and trucks blasting by at highway speeds... beautiful views though!

i find i can't get enough of the heather... so glad there is still some in bloom... if 

i had to pick only one symbol of scotland, it would be the heather

half-way through the day the sun came out, and we sat looking out over the water, watching the various ships and boats, and  feeding tidbits to the little guys below... aimless enjoyment of a beautiful afternoon with nothing more important at that time, on that day, than just to be there

i think of all the days we have spent here in Scotland, that was the one where i felt like i was seeing scotland as i imagined it would be  

so far...

land of tartan and whiskey

and so we've come to he place I was waiting for most...

we're in scotland now and it is just as i hoped it would- so many things i've been wanting to see, and now to finally see them in their right and natural place

they call it provenance... the truth of where a thing originates

inverness

a beautifully situated city, the river running through it, hills in the distance

to see the castle, with the scottish flag flying straight and true was a grand thing

today we went to culloden battlefield

to see the clan stones, and walk the moor, and imagine what it takes to fight for what you believe in, dream of, and to wonder what we are doing now, that people might care about in 250 years' time

it took a long time, almost the whole of the battlefield, but i finally found one last, lone thistle blooming

even though all the rest of the plant was long dead, this one tiny, sturdy flower was brilliant in it's bloom

i was so happy to find it - it seemed sad to me that i could come all this way and not see a thistle... thankfully shortbread isn't a seasonal thing...

this trip has been so wonderful in so many ways, on so many levels...

the food has been fabulous - from the mushy peas, to the fish and chips, cakes, yorkshire pudding, and b&b breakfasts, we have enjoyed it all - except marc ate haggis - ick

travelling by train has been brilliant - sitting back, sipping on hot chocolate, and enjoying the countryside

but the best part, by far, is the wonderful understanding that has come from seeing the place that shaped my grand-patents... so many things, from what they wore, to how they talked, to what they ate; how they lived, really - it all came from here

it's like finding them again...

a ways back, right before i left i announced a wish list give away for those who commented before my feet landed on english soil

the winners are lynne and deanna - so please send me your addresses and i'll do my best to get your parcels sent by royal mail!

blow wind blow

and oh, did it blow...

we're in haworth today, on the yorkshire moors... my idea to come here, part of my overdose of english literature as a child

        

it isn't so much that i am a huge bronte fan, as a fan of the land she wrote about

and of course the yorkshire of james herriot's tales

yesterday we did a two mile hike through fields, hopping the stiles and walking along the stone fences - the land access laws help to make all that possible...

so much fun climbing over these...

                                     ...

streams and old stone bridges dotted he landscape

        

this was my favourite...

       

narrow pathways between stone walls

                                      

the reward for the effort was the view... the hills and dales

        

it was cloudy, windy, cold and I wouldn't have had it any other way...

        

the scene below summed it all up and if this is all i had seen, iit would have been enough...

        

it would have been more than enough... the moor, the heather, the stone cottages, the lonely trees and the howling wind... the sense of absolute aloneness... just as written, just as imagined, just as dreamed of...

{having a little trouble formatting posts on the mobile blogger platform - text and photos aren't quite as i would like- click on any picture to see a larger version... and the monica of the last post is monica of the white bench blog.... blogger won't let me provide a link but if you google her, you will find it and you will love her!}

come walk with me...

come walk with me, if you have some time...

 there's a lovely path we'll follow

it winds along, turning here and there...

but the grass is green and the way is clear

and we shall know no sorrow

through the gate and on we go

past clumps of scented frailties white

with stairs that beckon, do climb them well

to behold their charming vista view

and in green glory, may you find

a place where joy and peace reside

today I met with monica 

we met through blogging several years ago and today we met in person

what a delightful, kind and beautiful soul

she took me to see my very first english garden

bourton house, at bourton-on-the-hill, in the cotswolds

what an amazing day; what a kindred spirit!

we toured the garden, went to an arboretum for lunch and then shopped the charity  and antique shops in stowe-on-the-wold

treasures were found

{we agreed it was likely a good thing we don't live closer or we might be a very bad influence on each other!!!}

sharing our thoughts on living a creative life, our mutual need for solitude, what it means when you find the place where you truly belong, and the joy of following your dreams

she took me to my first english garden, and his alone has been a thing that has changed me... the contradiction of a well-laid out, organized space, with spaces large enough to allow a tangle of flowers and shrubs to provide a beautiful, pastoral view

order allows freedom - they can go hand-in-hand,  side-by-side

mutually compatible, ying and yang, curves and straight lines

i feel as though i am finding myself on this trip, to the place of my roots

I feel the land slowly moving to envelope me, covering my feet, as if pulling me down, taking root...

so much that is familiar to me, so much like going home

Monica

random beauty

so here we are...

and what a wonderful place to be

everything i expected and hoped for and then some

tower big ben

if you read my post announcing this trip then you would remember me mentioning big ben

it was a timex moment when we first laid eyes on it

ten minutes to two...

a short time later we heard it mark the time - so cool

we spent part of sunday evening attending an organ recital in westminster abbey

the walk out was as awe-inspiring as the music... so very old... so very beautiful

this gate in hyde park was striking in it's design

everywhere I cast my eyes there was something magical to see - it was like landing in my very own mary poppins movie...

hyde park was a little different than I expected - beautifully green, big trees, wilder areas

a park for people to be in, move through and enjoy

a place to sit

also on my list was trafalger square

to see lord nelson's lions of stone

dreams coming true

and finally, the street I lived on in london... if only for a short time, it was mine