kew gardens

Grandma Marian would've had a fit, huh. 

something from wordsworth

There's not a nook within this solemn 

                                                                Pass

                                           But were an apt confessional for One

 

Taught by his summer spent, his autumn

    gone, 

That life is but a tale of morning grass

Withered at eve. From scenes of art which chase

That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes

Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,

Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes

                                      more clear than glass

         
 Untouched, unbreathed upon.

Thrice 

   happy quest,

If from a golden perch of aspen spray

(October's workmanship to rival May)

The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast

That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,

Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest

(my copy of English Romantic verse and I)

Visited Dove Cottage and Rydal Mount in Grasmere, where Wordsworth lived and wrote some poems, or lots of poems. I'm obviously pleased.

ambling with the sheep

Hiked Jenkin's Crag with some misses today.
 
First: I love the word crag, it sounds like a haunted fisherman's wharf with spooky ghost pirates, all swampy and foggy and stuff. That's just what it sounds like.

Second: LAUGHING IS THE BEST!!! even if it puts me in a dire spot now and then.i'm about to pee my pants in this picture.

Third: I love finding a quiet place to think about things and feel them, especially when it has a green velvet carpet crawling all over everything and twisting trees and a twinge of freshness for breathing. 

Maybe it just felt nice to be part of an open landscape. It gets exhausting being in the city, passing all sorts of people on the street who don't care about and who you don't care about (that isn't very pious of me, huh) and having little else to look at in your immediate vision besides store windows and pavement and pigeons. Oh, I hate pigeons.

and lastly: I like sheep, 

even if they don't like me. whatever

j.k. and me

It turns out that the best sandwiches in the world are made with baguettes (duh) and melted brie (duh) and apple slices and cranberry sauce - I had one today, at the elephant house.

This is where the illustrious Ms. Rowling began the epic of Harry Potter (on a napkin), if the contents of my sandwich didn't excite you enough

(there's Hogwarts, formerly known as Edinburgh Castle, right outside the window).

So, i sat down for said sandwich and a spot of vanilla tea,

and thought about starting my own potentially crazy-famous novel. Since nothing particularly special came to mind, I ended up just writing some notes to loved ones, and documenting the experience on a napkin for the little journal thing

(the writing on this isn't supposed to be so whited out, it's my J.K. Rowling experience napkin).

 I'm going to finish the books now, I promise
well
maybe

the scottish national gallery of modern art

 

saw some Nathan Coley

saw TWO more Vuillards
           and fell in love with a few new artists, mainly this guy, really cool stuff

i stretched my legs today

We've now ended up in Edinburgh, a place where everything is windy, like a Bronte novel - I'm beginning to understand why Cathy Earnshaw was crazy, you can't hear yourself think in wind like this (not that she even lived in Scotland, but I'd imagine the weather is similar to the wutheringness of Wuthering Heights). Aside from that, this tiny town is all smushed together and cobblestoned and charming.
We hiked Arthur's seat today, it felt nice to walk on grass and dirt and rocks (so nice, my gosh), even with a fairly steep incline and a treacherous wind. This treacherous wind tried so hard to sweep us off of the cliff, I swear I could feel it tearing out my hair and pulling the skin off of my face (and I'd like to take a special moment to apologize to my feet for hiking them in a pair of wellies. Sorry feet, for forgetting chacos). 

There were a few particular words (if you'll even call them words, I don't think they are all real) that kept running through my head the whole way up -  
'twas brillig (this particular phrase repeated itself a lot),                
     and the slithy toves 
                  did gyre and gimble in the wabe; 
              All mimsy were the bergeroves
                and the mome raths outgrabe.
Random, but I guess that weather made me think of the Jabberwocky. 
Jabberwocky wind bully.

Anyway, we all made it and had lots of good laughing at the top. 

 

hehe

oh, hey mr darcy

We went to Chatsworth House

                                   (the lady readers would know it as Pemberly)

Today I pretended to be Miss Elizabeth, strolling through the gardens of a great house and vast green gardens - all of the girls did, probably. 

lalala (emotional music and creative cinematography panning the ceiling) lalala

Poor Lizzy didn't stand a chance, this place is oozing romantic notions.

remember the statue room? from the movie???!