Sunday, 10 June 2012
Sunday meanderings . . . here and there, and up and down . . .
I love an old street in an old fashioned town . . .
A street that goes wandering uphill and down.
A street that wakes echoes wherever you tread,
And quaint timbered gables lean over your head.
Where sunlight and shadow make patches of gold . . .
On bricks, tiles and cobblestones, centuries old.
I love an old street, where you see at a glance . . .
Glimpses of history, beauty, romance.
That Patience Strong . . . she's a woman after my own heart. I love reading her little poems and thoughts. They always touch me in a special way. These words here today just scream out England to me . . .
This beautiful country is filled with these images . . . especially when you get outside of the city, although I have to say that Chester is very much like this as well . . .with it's white tudor buildings and cobble streets, and those beautiful rows . . . cobbles are not much fun to walk on though, I do have to say . . . kind of like walking on acorns in the autumn . . .
You never know what you are going to come across either . . . you find the oddest things in the oddest places . . . like a Dr Who telephone booth, right in the middle of nowhere . . . One might almost be afraid to step into it for fear of being carried off into another world . . .
You will find post boxes in unsual places as well . . . built into walls . . . and other nooks and crannies, a testament to the reliability of the British Postal service . . . or as it used to be at any rate. I'm not so sure it is as reliable these days . . . earlier this week, the day I went to the Temple, Todd went into the city to have a wander. The postman tried to deliver a packet while we were both out. When I got home that ubiquitous "we're sorry we missed you" red slip was laying on the entryway floor. So I got online and applied for a redelivery . . . yesterday. Stayed home all yesterday waiting for it. I was upstairs painting . . . Todd was downstairs reading. I can down to show him what I had done . . . and there it was again . . . another red slip of paper sitting on the entryway floor, "We're sorry we missed you" . . . He can't have knocked very loud or run the doorbell. It must have been obvious we were home. The car was there and Todd was playing music, not very loudly either. He surely would have heard the door . . . I just don't think they make much effort these days. Have arranged redelivery for Tuesday now . . . at my local post office. I'll pick it up there, myself. Probably, whilst I am out picking that one up, they'll try to deliver another one . . . and so it goes . . . lol
Winding lanes . . . covered with trees and hedges right up to the pavements . . . roads that twist and turn and leave you almost breathless with their beauty . . . cattle rods built into the roads so that farmers don't have to worry about their livestock wandering too far . . . sheep largely wander freely in much of the countryside over here . . . it's really quite wonderful to see . . .
Is it no wonder I have fallen deeply in love with this country I find myself in? I think not . . . it is a place that entrances and mesmerizes . . . that weaves a spell around your heart. Were I to ever leave . . . I would miss it dreadfully . . .
How can one not be totally and blissfully taken in by all of this rich beauty that surrounds us . . . and the history . . . this country fairly reeks of it. You can not miss it. There is history woven into every cobblestone . . . every corner . . . every single seam of it's being. It is so amazing . . . truly. Todd and I are both history buffs . . . one of the many things that we have in common that showed me he was the perfect choice for me . . .
Kissing gates, thatched rooves, cobblestones . . . wandering wildlife . . . meandering roads and streams . . . village greens, and corner shops . . . these are all a part of rural life over here, woven into the fabric of an every day existance. It's all so very beautiful . . .
Even in the rain . . . and there is plenty of that . . . but that is what helps to keep it so lush and verdantly green . . . with moss that covers every stone and tree trunk . . . ivy that twists itself over wall and fence post . . . fields of buttercups and forget me knots . . . Whenever I have been away for a time and I look once more upon it's fields and rivers from the window of the airplane as I return and we come in for a landing, I am reminded once more of how very beautiful it is . . . and I can scarce catch my breath at the wonder of it all . . .
and I fall in love all over again. Truly . . . madly . . . deeply. I wonder at some of the people here, who have lived amongst all of this beauty their whole lives . . . who take it quite for granted, who cannot see for the blinders on their eyes. Why would anyone ever want to leave . . . it quite boggles my mind . . .
I pinch myself each day . . . to make sure I am not dreaming. Am I really, REALLY here??? Is this now my home??? Yes . . . comes the answer immediately. This is my home and where my heart lays, wound up irretrievably in it's spell . . . it's magic . . . it's beauty and soul.
This is my home sweet home . . .
I got started yesterday on my Christmas Card Designs for the year. I know it may seem early to some, but you can never been too early with these . . .
A family out in their mini car, picking up their Christmas Tree. The snow begins to fly . . . as the sky darkens . . . but "ho, ho, ho" Christmas is on it's way, and they're enjoying every minute of the festive season.
And a quieter one . . . with a spiritual feel to it, which captures the essence of what Christmas should be all about. This is an actual cottage house which exists down in Norfolk. I have a book of pictures of cottages around the UK and examples of architecture which you find over here and I thought it would be perfect on this card.
It kept me out of trouble at any rate . . . and I have more bouncign around in my head that I can't wait to get started on!
Cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . Mixed Berry and Creamy Custard Tarts.
“Our Father in Heaven has given us, His children, much more than any mortal mind can comprehend. Under His direction the Great Jehovah created this wondrous world we live in. God the Father watches over us, fills our hearts with breathtaking joy, brightens our darkest hours with blessed peace, distills upon our minds precious truths, shepherds us through times of distress, rejoices when we rejoice, and answers our righteous petitions.”
~President Dieter F Uchtdorf