The view

Looking out of my window, I notice the view never changes; ok, so the trees have grown over the years and we have a few more houses, but essentially it hasn’t changed.

Each morning I look out with expectant eyes and frequently I am not disappointed, for the changes are immense.

Light itself changes colour, mood, depth and clarity, the sense of distance and my perception of environment changes; how I feel inside is a response to this outward view.

Note to morning office: You are the light of the world, may I change in response to You.

Into the light

The big church in Saltburn are having another art exhibition, the theme is “into the light”. One of the ladies of the parish asked if would submit a photo, I did some last time on creation.

I had many thoughts and most of them based on the fact that it was too difficult for us to look directly at the light; reflected by water, through glass, trees etc - sounded the best route. I went in search of tall buildings, Banks, Churches and found myself in the back streets and alleyways.

We see light from our darkness, from the shadows, I tried to capture the effect of light and how it eats into the vertical darkness and tears into the shadows; the added presence of light on the garbage cans was a bonus.

          

Note to evening office: Illuminate my shadows.

Arncliffe woods

A long promised walk was finally found; I thought about two hours would be good, but due to ice and a slight detour it lasted more than four. The path was so frozen that I had real difficulty getting up the hill and into the woods, I am glad no-one could see me as I took one step up and slid my whole length back; it was like an old silent movie.  Probably due to the weather there were no other brave walkers, just the sound of the swelling river as it hurried over the great sandstone boulders. Movement caught my eye as two small dear darted through the trees, I was amazed that something running so fast made hardly a sound.

It was more than just a walk, I was on a quest, weeks ago I decided on this walk, to find the wishing stone and a part of the woods that I remembered when I was young; this was to form a central part of my book (which is very slow work in progress).

I felt I was well prepared, with camera, binoculars, mobile phone, waterproof jacket and boots; an ice pick and crampons would have been better, I soon found a stout stick that helped to keep me vertical. I think I was more worried about my camera!

The scars and sandstone outcrops are evidence of mining, Glaisdale was abundant in iron ore and in 1865 three blast furnaces were built in this small Esk Valley town. The path is made up of large sandstone blocks leading on, higher and away from the river, the sound of the water becoming deeper in the distance, slowly being taken over by the quiet of the trees.

It was easier to walk on the verges as the stones were like trying to walk on ice cubes; I decided to head up away from the path as I felt the wishing stone was much higher as I recalled. I did find one stone that resembled it but decided this was much smaller than I remembered. Further on still I caught my breath as I saw and remembered the wishing stone; there it was, as big as ever and with that big crack running through the middle, I wanted to run to it.

I stood and looked at it for such a long time, photographing different angles; I felt I could still hear the shout of us as children jumping and climbing over it; it is a magical stone and of course I couldn’t resist but to walk through the stone and make a wish.

My quest to find the second special place was not to be, try as I might it remained hidden. Further on still I left the path again and headed towards the the edge of the steep cliff with the river below and trees forming as it were a safety wall that I might not fall off the edge. I had found a different place that was indeed special, a sense of security and peace; I am sure I could have stayed there all day.

Note to morning office: Not all magic is about wizards and spells, its good to have a dream; MAKE A WISH!

Northumbria visit

Thank you everyone for a great few days.

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The Great North Road

Looking forward to a short break – two nights in a Bothy near Edinburgh; then on to Hetton Hall to visit friends at Northumbria Community. Sounds like heaven to me…..

Inside the Chapel at Hetton Hall, Northumbria.

Story teller

I started this post a while ago with just the title and a recipe; what on earth was I going to write about? Almost a month a go and so much has happened it would be impossible to catch up and difficult to summarise; perhaps it is best left gone?

Mums anniversary on Sunday (2-years) and we are only a little closer to doing the recipe book “Grandma’s favourite recipes”. This sort of thing has been done before of course but we will attempt to enfold some of the character and story behind the dish; I know, half the fun will be trying them out to see if they still taste the way they did.

Last week I received an email from yet another cousin (I have around 60 in total), this was a very pleasant surprise as he had found and copied an old photo of my dad and I; it certainly brought a tear to my eye. Cousin Joe remarked how it reminded him of the song by Luther Vandross “Dancing with my father again”.

We tell stories in many ways, writing and speaking, serving and giving. Through pictures and taste, aroma and touch; we convey part of what & who we are to those around us, who begin to know us and love us in return.

White stuff

 

How we are restricted when covered with snow; communication grinds to a halt and we retreat to our burrow. Beaten by the white stuff, cold and deep, filling the pantry with food and drink. Clearing our small path to the edge of the road as if that will put everything right.

I got to use the telephone much more recently, contacting folk who I had not seen in a long time, and better, fixing dates to go and spend time with them.

Here's to the spring of 2010.