Fowey

(pronounced like "joy")

And a place of joy it is! For many years I have been a fan of the English novelist, Daphne du Maurier. I haven't read everything she's written, but I have several favorites. About thirteen years ago my husband and I stayed in a cottage in a tiny village in England. We stayed there for a week and took day trips down into Cornwall. After reading so many of her books, my imagination was captured by this one particular area of England. One of my goals was to visit the town where du Maurier lived for so many years and wrote some of my favorite novels.

I've formatted many of these pictures to enlarge when you click on them. I finally figured out how to do that.

Fowey is above to the left of the words English Channel

If you look at a map of England, you'll find the area called Cornwall in the far southwest corner of the country. After spending just a day in Fowey all those years ago, I knew that someday I wanted to go back and stay a while. When we began to plan our trip to England this year, it was the town of Fowey that we were headed to after the choir trip ended. And it was everything and more than I had hoped for in a place to stay.

If you click on it, this picture will enlarge. There is an arrow at the bottom to the right of center which indicates our patio deck area. You can see the parish church tower to the left, and a castle that is still lived in to the right of the church.

This town is small and is located on the estuary at the mouth of the River Fowey. There's a nice bit of history here. Anyway, this town is a little piece of paradise to visit and stay for a week, which is exactly what we did. We met up with our good friends, picked up the rental car and embarked on the 4 1/5 hour drive from London Heathrow airport, heading west to Fowey.

We arrived in the early evening and were thrilled that it wasn't dark yet. We found the apartment we were renting for the week, which was located right on the water and had a lovely deck with a fine view. The front door opened right out onto the very narrow street filled with shops, a local market store, and several restaurants. We tried as many of them as we could!


Our apartment was above a gardening shop and the owners lived in the apartment on the main floor. It's called Reed's of Fowey and this link will show you pictures of the interior.

There is one in particular that made us chuckle every time we went to bed at night. Our room had a bed that slanted sideways. This picture is very true to how it really was. We did manage not to roll off the bed. I suppose we could have propped up one side of it, but it was just too funny to really care.

There wasn't a single wall or door frame that was square. This was a very old building, the main part being about 500 years old, and all the quirkiness added so much charm to being there. We loved it. Many evenings were spent reading, playing cards and planning what to do the next day.

Patio Garden

The stone section of building to the left is the oldest part of this building and is where the owners live. The section up above that was ours. You can see our living room window in the corner of the gray section, and the window to the right of that was in the hallway, with a beautiful view of the harbour. Between the stone part of the building and the back entrance to the shop and our apartment were these two little door. They were originally donkey sheds many, many years ago.

The deck and patio in the back overlooking the harbour were so peaceful. We looked out over hundreds of boats anchored or sailing past, and off in the distance on the other shore was the town of Polruan.
I really love the above evening photo. The sun was beginning to go down and I happened to catch a seagull in flight.

And as darkness descended, the full moon came up and the lights down the harbour toward the ocean came on. Even though this is slightly blurred because I was trying to use available light without a flash, you can see how gorgeous the reflection was.

My husband and our friends got a good laugh at me for making them stand outside to watch the moon come up over the mountains across the water. It's difficult to get good moon photos, but I think you can get the idea of the sequence of the moon rising to a brilliant white spotlight.

At the other end of town there was a ferry that took us across to Bodinnick, the location of one of du Maurier's favorite homes, "Ferryside". This is where she lived when she wrote her first novel "The Loving Spirit." This home is currently owned and occupied by her son and his family.

The above is a postcard I bought. Below is my own photo.

The Parish Church of Fowey was a beautiful thing, dating from the 14th and 15th centuries. I'll write about that separately because a really awesome thing happened.


And on the homefront, we've had a lot of rain this week. A couple nights ago the clouds in the evening sky were very dramatic. Last night it rained buckets and buckets and when it was all over, we had a beautiful rainbow. I'll leave you with a couple pictures of the sky over my own hometown.

St. Paul's Cathedral, London


My husband and I made our first trip to England in 1990 for our 20th wedding anniversary. If you've read any of these Sunday Afternoon Drives, you know that we've returned to England many times and it's one of our favorite places to vacation. This was the trip that started our love affair with England.

There was one particular event that happened on this trip which has remained vivid in my memory since that time. We were in London and one of the places we really wanted to visit was St. Paul's Cathedral. It's famous, it's huge, and it's extremely beautiful. Part of the fascination for me was that it was where Princess Diana married Prince Charles. So we made our way there and entered the huge doors into a very impressive interior. The lighting was dim and it had a really sacred feeling about it.

In 1990 the Cathedral was still open for viewing with no admission charge. When we walked in the doors, there was the sense that we were in a house of worship and we should whisper and move quietly about. It was an amazing experience. These two pictures are taken of parts of the interior and the massive dome overhead.

There are stairs that you can climb that will take you to the very top of this dome. From the outside of it you get the most incredible views of London in all directions. It's a fun thing to do if you aren't afraid of heights.

As I was standing at the back of the main section, looking down that very long aisle that Diana had so regally walked a few years before, I was imagining what that must have felt like. I walked very slowly forward pretending I was her until I was almost to the aisle that goes across. Just beyond that, over on the side, was an incredibly beautiful carved pulpit.

All of a sudden I heard a voice over a loud speaker and as people began to grow silent, I could hear what the voice was saying. A man was in that huge pulpit and he was announcing to everyone inside that it was now 3:00 p.m. and every day at that time, the catheral visitors were asked to participate in saying the Lord's Prayer and observe a moment of silence. And people did! I was deeply moved by the holy atmosphere that I felt and it was as if God entered that Cathedral and was moving among us. It was truly an unforgettable experience. I don't know if they are still doing that or not.

Since that time the organizational body that manages the tourists has begun charging admission to see the Cathedral. I understand the need to recoup for the wear and tear of thousands of visitors there, but it has definitely changed the atmosphere. The last time I went in, it was through a turnstyle. The reverent atmosphere and attitude that was automatic before has now developed a very touristy sound. The visitors talk louder. There are a number of chapels around the interior that are designated for private prayer, but there is still a certain hustle and bustle about it now.

The other really significant feature to these wonderful cathedrals is the choral evensong that is presented each evening. Anyone who wishes may sit in the quire, which is the part of the cathedral where the choir sings. There are beautifully carved wooden stalls where we sat, just next to where the choir was. We've been told that this event happens whether anyone is there to listen or not. It's a very litergical reading and choral experience that the Cathedral Choir and clergy perform as a worship to God. One internet source describes it as a service of reflection. Whenever we're there, or at any other Cathedral location in England, we try to get in on one of these.

It's a delightful sight to witness the processional of the clergy and the choir members. And the organ sound is quite spectacular. The choir ranges in ages from very small boys to adults. The little boys are as adorable as the ones you see in movies or pictures. And the sound that comes from their voices is unequalled by anything else. The music at these times moves and echoes around the walls of the cathedrals until it completely surrounds you and swallows you up. I have never been affected by music, especially organ music, quite the same way as it affects me in this setting.

If you ever have the chance to travel to any city that has a cathedral, it would be well worth your time to visit. The architecture, the stain-glass windows, the word carving, the history, all of it are some of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. It's amazing to walk through one of these massive buildings and still feel the presense of God around me in such a personal way.

They say the neon lights are bright, on Broadway.......

But not as wonderful as this Broadway!

Several years ago we took one of our trips to England with some very dear friends. It was their first trip over there and about our 5th, so our goal was to take them to some places that included sights we had NOT seen, as well as the standard favorites we knew they'd want to see. One of the best parts of this trip was our 4-day stay in a village in the Cotswolds called Broadway.

The moment we drove our car into the main street of this village, we knew we were in for a treat! We had made reservations at a bed and breakfast called Small Talk Lodge, and when we met the proprietors, it felt like home.


The rooms weren't fancy, but they were completely adequate. This is a view of ours from both sides of the room.
Our breakfasts were served in the charming breakfast room and were delicious and huge. A full, cooked English breakfast will usually consist of ham and/or sausage, eggs, beans, potatoes of some kind, cooked tomato, toast and coffee or tea. These breakfasts are referred to as "The Full Monty", and the name is often attributed to Field Marshal Montgomery, the prominent British military officer of World War II. It's quite a filling meal and we usually were not ready for lunch at noon!

As we began to walk around and get acquainted with the village, there were no limits to the number of charming places to see and photograph. One of the residential streets seemed to go off into the hills behind. It was a really lovely, hazy view and I just found myself taking picture after picture.

While my friend and I roamed the streets and browsed in the shops, our husbands found a tea shop to sit and view the village green.

Some of the shops along the main street

Sometimes it was hard to tell if a building on the main street was a business or a residence. But they were beautiful, whatever they were. This is a part of England where the buildings are made out of the famous golden stonework that is common to that area. It's called Cotswold Stone and comes from quarries in their hills. This ivy-covered building (below) sat back from the street a bit and I couldn't find a sign, but we think it was an inn or apartment building because there were several cars parked outside.
On one of our walks we came upon a beautiful old church that has been used as a place of worship for nearly 1000 years. Judging from the looks of the headstones in the churchyard, it's not too hard to believe that. This church is called St. Eadburgha Church and it's really lovely.

A tradition that I started from my first trip to England was buying a Lilliput Lane cottage for each of my girls. Lilliput Lane started producing their miniature cottages in 1982. David Tate, the founder, opened workshops at Skirsgill, in England's Lake District. (The Lake District is another trip to tell about.) The majority of cottages are based on real cottages.

Anyway, in one of the shops I found a church that was part of the Lilliput Lane collection, which was fashioned as a replica of this church. It was such a charming part of our trip that I bought it for myself. Here's a picture of mine:

From the front (above)

From the back (below)

All of the pieces have a name, quite often the name of the actual cottage. This one is called "Here Comes the Bride" and you can see them in the front view.

Just outside the town of Broadway is this tower/castle called Broadway Tower. It's quite amazing and if you take the time to click on the link, you'll get a far better description of it than I could tell here. We went all the way to the top inside and the view was pretty spectacular!

We share a love of walking when sightseeing with our friends, and as we walked along the quaint streets of this village (I'm on the right), I tried to imagine what kind of people lived in these pretty homes and what their life was like.

My friend, Grandi, and I never seem to run out of things to talk about, or fences to peek over. We are incurably curious about what's on the other side of some of these tiny little gates that are not much more than three feet wide. They always seen to lead into a lovely garden and I can just imagine sitting in there having a nice cup of tea.

But since we can't invade their privacy, we continue on. It doesn't take us long to start planning the next trip together, and when it happens, I'll write about it.

The Oregon Coast

In the summer of 1992, we had just returned from a choir trip to England with my husband's choir. Our entry back into the US took us through Seattle, so we made arrangements to send the students on home from there and we picked up a rental car, heading for the Oregon Coast. We hadn't made lodging reservations because we were just going to drive and find a place to relax after a very busy trip.

As we headed down the coast of Oregon, we eventually arrived at a small town called Oceanside. It's near Netarts Bay and is perched on the hillside overlooking the ocean. The beach in the area was really beautiful and we decided to look for a place to stay, which proved to be difficult at the last minute in July on the Oregon Coast. But we were hopeful.

We followed the path of an off-the-beaten-track road which had signs directing us to a particular bed and breakfast. It was perched way up high on the side of the cliff and the views were magnificent. We looked at the information on it and my husband said there was no way this place was going to be available, and if it was, it wouldn't be affordable. Ever the optimist, I was sure it was worth trying. We called the number on the flyer and to our amazement and delight, this place was both available AND affordable. We snatched up a room and settled in for a brief, but memorable stay.

We could look out across the beach and the ocean, or look back up from the beach and see sights, as well. The line on the top right of the above photo points to our B&B, and the line on the left with the circle points to a hang glider floating blissfully out over the top of the village.




After we got settled into our room, we headed down to the beach to enjoy the remainder of the daylight, anticipating the sunset that was to come. This stretch of beach is well-known for its spectacular rock formations and pretty beaches. We enjoyed the view of the sun going down behind Three Arch Rocks, which offered a serene spot for gazing at the sunset and strolling along the beach.

You can see the rocks at high tide, and then the next morning the same view at low tide. It was incredible how the beach stretched out bare before us when the tide was out. In the morning after breakfast we headed back down to the beach to explore. To the north of us a little distance were some amazing rock formations, which as we got closer we could see there was an opening like the eye of a needle. The tide had receded so far out that we were able to walk right up to these rocks and go through the opening. This area is called Maxwell Point and there is a beautiful beach beyond these rocks, which we did not explore. There used to be a suspension bridge on the other side of this, but I don't think it's there anymore.

If you look closely at this picture, over on the far right you can see these rocks in high tide, then the second picture shows the bare sand in low tide. Several years later I was telling someone who lives in Tillamook, OR about these rocks, trying to find the name of them. He couldn't figure out what I was talking about, because he didn't know of any rocks with a hole in the middle that you could walk through. We had our choir at his church that Sunday and in the afternoon he took us all over the the coast for some sightseeing. As we came to Oceanside and walked along the beach, I pointed out to him the rocks that I was referring to. He was surprised at what I was saying, because apparently we had experienced an in-frequent phenomenon. He said that the tide rarely gets so low for anyone to safely walk through that arch, but since I have the pictures to prove it, he finally believed me. I did an internet search and learned that this archway is no longer there. The gap in the rocks is there, but in 2004 the top of the arch collapsed due to weather and the beating of the elements against it. So I'm pretty pleased to have these photos.

I don't know the significance of the event of that extremely low tide or how often it happens, but I do know that we had an incredibly wonderful stay in this area and we returned home rested from the England trip, eager to get our film developed. When we got these pictures back, we were not disappointed and were able to relive the trip in these photographic memories.

All Things Bronte

In West Yorkshire in England there is a charming village called Haworth. My husband and I had our first of two visits there 16 years ago when we decided to go to England for our 20th anniversary. Being a fan of "Wuthering Heights" and "Jane Eyre", both written by two of the Bronte sisters, we included a sightseeing tour of this area with my husband's brother, D, who lives in Manchester. We were not disappointed. My main goal was to explore the folklore and legends of Wuthering Heights.

We started out in D's car and drove down a highway that wove its way through the moors. Looking out, we saw vast expanses of rolling land that rolled on into infinity. There were farm sections that looked as if they had been lovingly stitched together to form a beautiful quilt.

There were also sections that looked desolate and wild, just waiting for a storm to come up. See the dark clouds in the distance? They moved very swiftly and we ended up seeking shelter along our hike in a ruined barn, sharing it with some sheep doing the same thing.

We attempted this hike twice. The first time with D we got rained out and had to go back to the car. The second time was two years later with my husband's choir in the summer of 1992. It was a perfect day with a lot of sunshine and we headed out on the hike with several students. I'm not sure now how long the hike actually was from the village of Haworth and back, but I've been told it's about a 7-mile roundtrip hike. The trail has a number of markers that give the names of various points along the way, or the distance to these places, and this was a bridge called Bronte Bridge. One of the students is crouching under the bridge -- he was a troll. We did not lack for imagination!
There is a house ruin called Top Withens which is said to be the inspiration for the setting of the Earnshaw family farmstead. That was our goal. In the next photo you can see a clump of something (which are stone walls and a tree) off in the far distance on the hill. That's the ruin from our first view of it.



This second picture is the ruin itself with all of us being typical tourists and climbing on the walls for a photo op.



When we returned to the village, we enjoyed ourselves with tea and scones and browsing through the Haworth Parsonage, now known as the Bronte Parsonage Museum. This is where the sisters lived when they wrote these famous novels. It's now a very extensive museum devoted to all things Bronte and it's really interesting. Outside the Parsonage there is a picturesque cemetery. The Bronte family are not buried in this cemetery. They have a family vault beneath the church itself. The two people you see in this photo are my brother-in-law and me, when my backside was small enough that I didn't mind a photo from behind. No more, though!!

On the first trip we made there with D, I had my very first tea and scones. We went inside this teahouse that D and I are standing outside of, called The Cobbled Way. The name is obvious since the streets are very uneven cobblestones. I've been to England many times and have had tea and scones just as many times, but these were quite possibly the Best of the Best. I don't know if it was because we were seeking warmth and shelter from the storm we got caught in out on the moor or not, but they absolutely melted in our mouths! They were warm, slathered in clotted cream (or whipped butter - not sure) and jam, and couldn't possibly have tasted any better. I've never had any as good since.

The village streets are steep and the whole place looks like it was created just so it could be painted. My husband and I had D take our picture in the phone box. They really do look like that!

This was such a wonderful part of our trip to England. The countryside looked just exactly as I had imagined it from reading those two books. It's hard to capture the magic of it in this way, but I'll never forget the magical feeling I had walking out on the moors, thinking that at any moment I was going to find Heathcliff searching for Cathy!

Magical Minnesota Memories

Today we're heading to Minnesota and memories shared from my husband's roots. His ancestors came over to America on the proverbial ships from Sweden and Norway, and like so many of these immigrants, they settled in Minnesota. The area they settled in was around Orrock and Monticello, Minn. I've known my husband since I was 18 years old and so many of his memories have sort of osmosed into my brain until they feel like they are mine as well. I even went to his high school 20-year reunion with him and felt like I knew these people.

Anyway.......when he graduated from college, we had 3 weeks until he was expected to begin his new job in Arkansas. After a grueling senior year of being newlyweds, working and finishing school, we decided a nice vacation was in order before we hit town to start new work. He really wanted to show me around his part of Minnesota, so we set off in our little green Volkswagen Bug (my contribution to our marriage) and turned away from Oklahoma and headed toward Minnesota. We didn't have a care in the world! Unless it was that hideous wig I was wearing. For whatever goofy reason, wigs were the thing in the early 1970's. So wig and all, in the spring of 1971, we went.

In the town of Bemidji, Minn., we met up with Paul Bunyon and his blue ox, Babe. They were every bit as big as the stories said they were. Paul's cart was as big as the duplex we had just moved out of.




Not far from Bemidji was Lake Itasca where the Mississippi River has its beginning. It comes out of this lake, tumbles over these rocks and begins its crawl south through the U.S., emptying out into the Gulf of Mexico. The sign that is on display here reads: "Here 1475 feet above the ocean the Mighty Mississippi begins to flow on its winding way 2552 miles to the Gulf of Mexico." After being on a river cruise boat last summer on this river, it's hard to imagine such humble beginnings.

When my husband wa s a kid, his family would travel to Monticello to visit his grandparents. Both sets lived there, so the trips were as often as possible. He was born in the state and for a few years he also lived in Minnesota in two or three different cities. As a child he remembers going to a place he and his siblings called "Root Beer Falls." It wasn't THE Root Beer Falls near Duluth, but a water fall area in Big Falls in northern Minnesota that he and his siblings nicknamed because of its color. As you can see, there is a resemblance to the color of root beer (although my 35 year old picture is a bit faded).

From there the road took us to International Falls (where he had lived in junior high), and across the border into Fort Frances, Ontario, Canada. That was my first big experience out of the country, although my most enduring memory of it is the smell of the paper mill! It was that horrible mill smell that kind of makes you gag.

But the goal of this trip wasn't just to see the sights. It was to visit his little grandma in Monticello. She was about 4'10" tall. His grandfather, then deceased, had been very tall, hovering well over six feet. He used to nickname her his "little crutch" because standing side by side, she fit right under his armpit. My husband tells me that she was so tiny his grandfather remade her kitchen counters to a lower height so she could reach. When she laughed, her eyes crinkled shut and she would give him cups of really strong coffee, which was mostly milk in a little bit of coffee. He loved her and was eager for me to meet her.

We finally made it to her house in Monticello, and after visiting for a while, we decided to take her out to try to find the old homestead. We headed toward Orrock and found that the house was still standing. I wish I had a picture of it, but I don't. The current owner saw us in the driveway and he came out to see if we were ax murderers or door-to-door salesmen. After determining that we were neither, we struck up a conversation. Grandma told the gentleman that her husband had built that house and farmed the land many years before, and it was a really sweet encounter for her. The man said that the house was just as square and solid as the day it had been built. Grandpa was a craftsman!

On the route back we took a wrong turn and ended up in a field with our little car. It was plowed and the dirt was loose and we got stuck. That didn't deter Grandma, however. We all got out and collected weeds and br ush to put under the tires to try to provide some traction so we could get unstuck. They worked harder at it than I did, since I seem to be the one behind the camera.

This was the last time my husband saw his little grandma. We lived too far away and it wasn't long until she had to move into a nursing home and her mind began to slip. It's a trip that we cherished with all our hearts, and I'm so glad I met this little lady that I had heard so much about.

Be an opener of doors. -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

One of the interesting things to see when traveling, especially abroad, is how people get to their doors. It could be a door to their home, into their garden or through a gate that leads into a pathway. I have a tendency to want to take pictures of some of these things, so today we're traveling through some of the entryways I have encountered along the travel route.

For our 25th wedding anniversary we went to England and rented a cottage in the country for a week. This particular cottage was in a 13th century longhouse. A longhouse was just that -- long. In one half of it the people would live and the other half was the barn. This cottage was in the section of England called Devon, in a little tiny town called Broadwoodkelly. The town was barely a town at all, with just houses, a small pub and little store, and a church. It had shrunk in population to the point that it really didn't have much to offer in things to do. That was why we chose to stay there and the proprietors of our cottage were amazed that Americans would come all that way into the country to stay, and be content with that. We had a car so we could do any daytrips we wanted. The cottage owners lived in one half of this house, and the barn side had been turned into a self-catering cottage, which means it was equipped for staying and cooking on your own. We loved it. The little gate led into our own private garden area where there was a table and chairs for enjoying the outdoors when we ate. The entire place was surrounded by gardens and beautiful flowers, and on the other side of the main fence was the old stone church with its square bell tower. The lady across the road had the church key and one day she came over and let us in to see it.

We've done a lot of traveling in England and there are no end to the quaint sights and little pathways. This one on the left was in a town called Ambleside, located in the Lake District section of England. I just loved the stepping stone path tucked between thick green foliage and flowers, leading to someone's front door. On this same trip which we took with my friend, Grandi, and her husband, we spent several days in the Cotswolds in a village called Broadway. That was one of the nicest stopovers on the trip. Everything we had read about this part of England in regards to the honey-colored stone buildings to the beautiful scenery was absolutely true. We took several walks and on one of them we came to a tiny little gate that couldn't have been more than three feet wide. I was really wishing I could have entered that gate to see where it went, but since we were the visitors and that was private property, I resisted the temptation.

In the midst of all the beautiful sights to see in other countries, there are also some grim reminders of the past and things that were not so beautiful. Several years ago we took my husband's choir on a European choir tour and one of the places we visited in Germany was the concentration camp at Dachau. I won't go into the details of this place, because it was very sobering and sad, but the entrance fascinated me. There is an entrance gate with the words "ARBEIT MACHT FREI" worked into the metal gate. These words mean "Work Brings Freedom", but sadly, for so many people, it really only brought death. The entire place was a very real reminder of a very horrible time in history.

Last summer we took a Mississippi River cruise on a riverboat, again with these same friends. We had a really nice trip and saw some beautiful Southern plantations and quaint towns, as well as alligators in the swamp from our swamp boat tour. At one of the port stops along the way we went into town and came upon this really beautiful church set deep into the cool green shade of the huge old trees and lawn that surrounded it. When I went around from the front, I saw this door tucked into the trees and ivy, which led into the back garden (yard). I really wanted to peek inside, but couldn't. Not for lack of trying, mind you, but because the door wouldn't open.

In Vernazza, Italy a couple years ago, we enjoyed several great hikes along the coastal cliffs. The hillsides were covered with vineyards and it was September, which meant harvest time. There were all kinds of little entrances throughout the terraced hillsides that led into a variety of places. One little green door at the top of four or five uneven stone steps caught my attention, and again, I was curious as to what was on the other side. It was so small that an adult would have had to be short and thin to get through it without ducking or turning sideways.

One of the really great pictures we were able to get in Italy was this one of the steps leading up into the entrance to a vineyard. Just as my husband took the picture, a worker walked across at the top carrying a basket of grapes on his shoulder. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. It was the stuff paintings are made of!

I'll never be able to resist taking pictures of unusual or quaint things in our travels. I've often wondered what in the world our children are going to do with all the photos of places they've never been to and probably don't care about the pictures. Who wants to look at someone else's vacation pictures? Well, actually, I do enjoy doing that and seeing where someone goes and what they like to do. But I sometimes think all our pictures are going to bore the girls to death. Oh, well, that will be their problem when the time comes.

There will always be one more path to follow or one more gate to go through. I'm the one who tours old homes and tries to look inside the little doors wondering if they lead to a secret passageway. I am truly an "opener of doors", although I'm not sure that's what Emerson meant by that quote. My curiosity just gets the better of me! So watch out -- if I ever come to your house, I'll probably look in the medicine cabinet just to see what kinds of things you have in there. Ok, maybe not....

WHITBY

"This is a lovely place. The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near the harbour. A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which the view seems somehow further away than it really is. The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down. The houses of the old town--the side away from us--are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow, like the pictures we see of Nuremberg. Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows. Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea. It descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze." -- Bram Stoker "Dracula"

In 1897 Bram Stoker wrote the book "Dracula". We picked up a copy of it many years ago at a yard sale or used book store somewhere. My husband read it and said it was the scariest book he's ever read. He had nightmares about it. I tried to read it and quit. It's just too creepy. But part of the story is set in this town of Whitby, England, on the eastern side of the country. Ever since reading, or trying to read, this book, we've been fascinated to see this place. Several years ago we took a vacation to England with our friends, Grandi and her husband, and we went there. You know a friendship is real if you can travel by car around England for three weeks and still like each other when you get out of the car! In the last week of this trip we made it to Whitby. As we came near and crossed the bridge, the Abbey and one side of the town on the
harbour spread out in front of us. It was a beautiful sight! We found our B&B, checked in, found a place to eat and then headed for the cliff and the Abbey. As expected, the view from up there was incredible. The whole setting captured my imagination and I could completely understand why this town and setting were chosen as a location in the book. It had a feeling of other-worldness. It was mysterious, breathtakingly beautiful, and perfect for such a story.

When I travel in other countries, I'm always intrigued by the narrow, winding streets and find myself taking pictures of them. Things are just so different from how we live in the U.S. This little set of steps beside a building simply led to an upper level. They were about 6 feet wide and really quaint. So were the town streets themselves. They just sort of wandered up hill and down, leading to another level of the town above, or down to the harbour.

To get to the Abbey from the town, we had to go up a set of steps called the "199 steps". We counted them and there really were that many. These steps are a really great feature of this place. The incline is so gentle that you could probably walk a horse up and down them. When we reached the top, we truly entered another space and time. The old church and churchyard were the first things we came to. This was the parish church mentioned in the book quote. It was exactly as described. The headstones in the cemetery were so old that the inscriptions were completely worn away on most of them, and the tops were blackened with age.

I could just imagine someone sitting on this bench watching those sailboats and enjoying the breeze.

Moving on toward the Abbey, we realized it was too late in the day to get in so we planned an early start for the next day. Not getting in through the gates, however, was not a very big deterrent to us. We walked around the side of the wall enclosing the Abbey grounds and found a place to climb up over and onto a rock. We wanted pictures of this place with the sun beginning to set and we knew we would miss it the next day because we had only planned for one night here. Our mistake -- we should have planned for two! Anyway, my husband, who is rarely challenged by fences and signs that say "Do Not Enter", climbed up on a rock on the other side of the wall and began taking pictures as the sun began to set, putting the entire Abbey into black silhouette. We took so many pictures of it because every time the light changed, so did the Abbey.

As evening began to set in, we walked back over to the harbour side of the old parish church and found a bench to sit on to watch the sun go down beyond the horizon. The harbour below with it's walls and lighthouses was just so peaceful. It was hard to leave that spot.

No trip is complete for me without a sunset photo, and this trip was no different. This was a too-brief stop on this wonderful journey through England in the summer of 2001.

Signs of the Times

There was a time, back when I was a little girl, when road trips were enhanced by road signs and billboards. All the old highways were lined with billboards and they provided a lot of entertainment for kids riding in the back seat. A couple different periods of time in my childhood we lived 30 minutes to an hour from church. Since Daddy was the pastor, that meant frequent trips in the car as a family. My fourth brother and I would play games with these road signs/billboards. The most popular game was the alphabet game. It was played silently so each could not know where in the alphabet the other was. The object was to race to see who could get from A to Z first by using only one letter per sign. Or we would keep track of license plates on passing cars to see how many of the states we could find. But anything with pictures and words was car entertainment, and these signs were also a blessing for my Mother because it cut down on backseat squabbling.

So today we're getting a look at some of the weird and/or entertaining signs my husband and I have taken pictures of in our travels. Hopefully, you'll get a chuckle out of them and enjoy your car ride today without fighting over who gets to sit by which window. First stop -- Norwegian Cruise Line's private island, Great Stirrup Cay. Now tell me, does this look like an international airport to you??

It didn't to me, either. We couldn't quite figure out exactly what was supposed to have been there, but there wasn't enough land for a runway of any kind. Helicopter, maybe?





This sign was spotted in Rome. So...what do you think? Were they trying to rent a scooter or the Italian hunk of beef sitting on it??


While driving down the road in Wales, we came to an overpass that really caught our eye. My friend, Grandi, was quick with her camera and got a picture of........farmer going to market?? Don't know for sure, but the cows were a sight to see! If you noticed, the steering wheel is on the right side of the car and the traffic is on the left side of the road. My husband and Grandi were the designated drivers to navigate our way through the roads in England and Wales where the driving is on the opposite side of the road.

The rest of of these signs are all throughout the different parts of England where we've travelled, some just the two of us and some of the trips with Grandi and her husband. There doesn't seem to be any sense to a few of them....just eye-catching silliness. Some of them are perfectly logical according to the terminology used over there that is a little different to us. Frequently there would be signs in parks letting people know they could not let their dogs run loose and "foul" on the ground. Obviously, some dog's owner didn't get the message here.

These next two signs we decided were just silly advertising, but worthy of a photo just for the chuckle value.

The text on the sign with the two men says, "You know, Ralph, I saw Richard Burton's Hamlet in '53 and it's something I'll always remember." The line under the picture says: You never forget a visit to the theatre. What these two old geezers have to do with going to the theatre, I'll never know, but the advertising DID catch our eye!

Then there's the caution to watch out for children playing, as well as keeping an eye out so you don't run over any of the elderly folks out for a stroll.


There were several times when we parked the car in a lot somewhere that we had to pay. The signs were explicit in their directions, don't you think? We weren't sure if they meant to display, literally, or if we were supposed to put the ticket on the dashboard of the car. So just in case, we did both. This is Grandi, clever girl that she is.

Several times over the years my husband and I would take his choirs on an overseas trip. When he and I travel alone, we try to avoid American type restaurants and hotels, preferring instead to absorb the local color. But when we're travelling with a busload of college students, many of whom are pickier eaters than a toddler, we have to give in somewhat. So after a week of eating in "chippies", or homes of people in the churches where we sang, and other local places, we would give in and seek out an American style place to eat. This is an all-too-familiar sight in England and Europe anymore.
We took his choir to a town in England called Chester. There is a really beautiful cathedral there that was celebrating its 900th birthday and there were people getting it all dressed up with flowers and other stuff. Prince Charles was arriving the next day for the ceremonies and we got inside just a few hours prior to the cathedral being closed for security reasons. My husband's choir was able to go inside and sing a little, and the sound of a cappella singing in a cathedral is surely akin to how the music must sound in heaven. At the entrance as we walked inside there was this sign, and I leave you with this lovely thought.

Enjoy the rest of your Sunday evening.

Four Days at the Beach

Who says you can't live in sand castles?? If you're a child, you can. The children at our family reunion didn't waste any time finding the buckets, shovels, cups OR sand to begin their projects. We were constantly walking around them so we wouldn't smash them, and there were frequent howls as the small, gentle waves washed over something built a little too close to the water. They could even have a moat around the castle if they wanted one. My granddaughter, in true form, thought on the larger scale and began constructing a walled city. You were only allowed in or to help if she gave permission. She's going to be President some day, but probably not a Democrat or Republican. She'll be an Independent. Everyone needs to be a kid at the beach. I think it somehow magically happens to us even if we try to remain parental and stern, afraid to let them venture out too far. After the first day of laying down the rules and regulations, the children were awesome and cooperative, and the parents relaxed a bit.

Have I mentioned before that I adore my sons-in-law? They are two of the best Daddies on earth. They both have infinite patience and gentle spirits. They just seem to roll with most anything that comes along, and were super sports about taking a canoe load out for a row.

They were the appointed drivers for a lot of the jet ski rides, and the motor boat which we had on the last evening. My father-in-law was determined to ride and then drive the jet ski himself, which he did. He drove off in the midst of great shouting and applause. But make no mistake -- the Matriarch, as we call her at family gatherings, was not to be outdown. They don't call her Mighty M for nothing! She went for her joy ride with my son-in-law. I have a fabulous picture of the two of them, but I can't post their faces. I tried improvising, but it somehow took away from the beauty of the picture. So suffice it to say, she was the Queen at that moment.

If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know that I love sunsets and sunrises and take many pictures of them with my trusty Pentax 35mm camera. I haven't gone digital yet. I knew from watching the moon at home that we were in for a full moon at least one night of our stay on the lake. The first evening, as the sun set behind the lodge, the sky turned pink over the mountains across the lake and the moon rose early, nearly a completely full moon (right side of photo). By the time we came to the last night, it didn't rise until 10 p.m. We knew it would come up over the back of these mountains, and all of a sudden we saw a faint glow behind them. We paused our game of Chicken Foot and grabbed cameras and headed for the deck. As we stood there taking bets on who would see it first, it slowly topped the ridge and began to grow. It was brilliant, huge and orange and the cameras began to flash after the oohs and aahs stopped. I hope someone got a better picture of it than I did, but taking the picture made the memory, whether the picture turned out or not. At least you can see the size and reflection on the lake in the dark (right).
This is the lakeside lodge we stayed in. It has 10 bedrooms with a total of 40 beds. Since only 10 family units decided to come, each family had lots of space. The top left window/sliding door was the room my husband and I stayed in. I figured since I'd been put in charge of the reunion, I could have any room I wanted. Sounded fair to me. The final morning, I was savoring those last few minutes of sleepiness, with the cool lake air coming in the partially opened door, and all of a sudden my husband says (not in a whisper), "Oh my word!" I immediately jolted wide awake wondering what was wrong. He told me to look out the window and when I did, this is the sunrise I saw at 6:00 am:


A full moon to go to sleep to and a glorious sunrise to wake up to. It doesn't get much better than that!