Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Sunday was what we call bracing here in Yorkshire.
A cold and strong north wind sent leaves skittering from their precarious grip on the branches of the trees and grey white clouds scudding across the overcast sky whilst underfoot Jack Frost had stealthily clothed the ground in sparkling white as he visited during the night while the world slept.
The grass was blisteringly white, glinting with a myriad of miniature diamonds, crisp and crunchy as we walked but eventually the wintery lemon coloured sun broke through the drifting clouds and cast it's wavering glow over the land...like magic, the grass became wet and green again.
There isn't a lot of colour in the autumn this year so I was pleased to see the odd red haw now and again. The trees have done badly in the wet weather and there aren't a lot of berries on them. The poor field fares are in for a shock after their long flight in from Russia for their over winter stay.
There was one surprise amongst the damp grass, a hogweed still in flower. It's delicate florets are usually full of insects in the summer but this one was making a valiant attempt in the depths of autumn.
All the plants seem confused this year!
We were in one of our favourite spots.
Thixendale, the old saxon name means sixteen dales.
It's where sixteen valleys converge.
You meander down one, up another...all different, all with magnificent views.
We were in Fairy dale, DH's favourite as it's the valley the buzzards seem to frequent the most.
The whole of Thixendale is their habitat but the wind currents above the disused chalk quarry in Fairydale seem to be their favourite place for a spot of hanging on the wind.
It's also a good place to view merlins as they use the valley sides to practice uplifts on the wind. They're only the size of a backbird and very quick so it's hard to spot them anywhere else.
DH was in his glory as a pair of buzzards were circling high in the air currents. He was like a statue as he trained his binoculars on them and oblivious to the wind and cold watched as they twirled and soared on the warm currents of air mewing to each other sounding for all the world like flying kittens.
I can never get any decent pictures of them as even with binoculars they are sometimes just tiny specks in a vast sky and they move about so much I can't even find them in the camera viewer but this time I did...it's not very good and it was getting dark too so I was remarkably pleased with myself at the time...lol...it helped it came low into the valley checking out the pigeon roosts because I'm just no good at night shots!
It's dark by about four thirty now the clocks have gone back and the setting sun gave us a panoramic view of marvellous variations on colours.
As we stood on the top of the ridge we could see in all directions.
If you looked south the sky was dark and broodingly grey like the buzzard shot.
But look east and it was a magnificent cerulean blue shaded with darker patches and streaks.
The row of beech trees on the top of the dale stood darkly in it's glory.
Look north and the sky was a mixture of blue and black, like a bruise on the sky which shaded gently into golden hues.
My favourite tree, old and gnarled, stood sentinal against the skyline.
But west, where the sun was setting, was like a velvety curtain of molten gold spread across the horizon by Mother Nature's palette knife, a wondrous backdrop to the trees and plants.
A few pictures for you...enjoy!!
Trees on the horizon
The elusive buzzard
Silhouette of my favourite tree
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Well we didn't get far this Sunday, my arthritic knee's playing me up and I could hardly hobble let alone walk so I contented my self with a few pictures around the garden.
Saturday was quite frosty but Sunday was even better, everywhere resembled a beautiful Christmas card that had been frosted with glitter.
It was so cold, minus three for a while before the sun finally managed to break through for a short period, ideal for a walk really if I'd been up to it but I wasn't so...DH raked leaves and I hipple-hirched around the borders taking a few snaps.
There's not a lot of colour left for November but my 'Buff Beauty' climbing rose on the garden arch still had a few flowers left until the frost came, they're now looking very dejected...brown and soggy looking.
The buds of the magnolia 'stellata' have already appeared safe inside their furry overcoats but it's earlier than it should be so I'm not sure if it'll last the winter out.
The many coloured berries of the St.John's Wort look as if they've been dipped in icing sugar and the 'Spectabile' Ice Plant certainly lives up to it's name as each tiny flower is covered in white crystals.
The lupins were cut down a while ago but one intrepid plant had put out a last leaf, the centre radiates out like wheel spokes and was coated with ice, it looked so pretty whilst the bright orange 'Physalis' or chinese lanterns were frosted over too.
We did venture out for a ride after dinner but by then it had turned dull and gray so I didn't get many pictures. Most of them were taken through the car window or else were very near the roadside so I didn't have to hobble far.
I loved the beautiful purple leaves of a bottery bush I spied as we drove past a little bridge. I asked DH to back up so I could take a picture.
The bottery term is a Yorkshire dialect corruption of Butric tree or Elder but we've always called it that and it wasn't until I was speaking to a friend from away that I realised she didn't know it by the same name as it's referred to as the Elderberry bush when away from Yorkshire.
There were sheep grazing on the banks of the river and the sun was just beginning to go down making a golden and blue pattern to the evening sky. It was the best part of the whole afternoon.
The bottery bush stood out silhouetted against the beautiful sky as did the delicate leaves of a silver birch tree. The pictures were taken low down as I couldn't climb up to the path beside the bridge so they're a bit of different shot to what I'd usually take.
I looked up into the almost bare branches of a sycamore tree, the delicate tracery of twigs and branches looked beautiful with a few hardy leaves keeping their grip on life.
Then looking down to the base of the trunk was a beautiful 'turkey tail' bracket fungus all ripples and tonal shades of brown and grey.
It was dark by half past four, the beautiful sunset turned to dark skies and rain began pouring down, lashing at the car windows as we wended our way back home where we settled down in front of the telly enjoying the warmth from a glowing fire in the hearth and ate gorgeously melty toasted cheese all washed down with a mug of hot chocolate...yummy!
Frosted 'Buff Beauty' rose
Ice plant 'spectabile'
Bottery bush leaves
Bottery bush against the setting sun
Sheep on the bank sides
Silver birch against the setting sun
Looking up into an almost bare sycamore canopy
And down onto a 'turkey tail' fungus
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sunday dawned dull with blustery showers even though the weathermen said it would be fine but after the strong winds and wintery snow and hailstone showers of previous days it seemed positively balmy!
We decided to go inland this week and combine the trip with DH's work as he'd a client to see quite a long way from home.
We visited the client first then stopped off in what is known as 'The prettiest village in the East Riding' for a walk around.
Bishop Burton was once an Estate village owned by the wealthy Gee family who were Lords of the Manor and also had property in Liverpool and Jamaica.
Sir William Gee was secretary to King James the first of England.
The estate was sold in 1783 to the equally wealthy Watt family and stayed in their possesion until 1931 when it was sold off.
The Manor house and grounds became the Bishop Burton Agricultural College which is still a well respected and succesful establishment.
This information and more is all set out beautifully on a plaque set into a wall near the mere.
The village has retained it's 'olde worlde' character and even though there have been conversions most houses have kept to the whitewashed and black porched look. Combined with the brick built Georgian farmhouses and their outbuildings it's your quintessential English village, in some cases complete with roses round the door!
It was raining by the time we'd parked up, heavy blustery showers which eased off and then came at you again but we still walked anyway.
The centre of the village was quite sheltered and, bundled up against the elements, we soon became too warm so inbetween squalls we disrobed, stripping off our hoods and gloves we carried our coats.
It was so sheltered that the ground beneath the drystone wall set around All Saints Churchyard was already studded with shoots of what looked like daffodils and we haven't even hit winter yet!
The church stands squarely on the top of a hill, the wind buffeted the willow trees which surround it and the clock's golden numerals on the squat tower glistened in the rain. The old stonework took on many different colour hues as the wet permeated it.
I'd have loved to have looked around inside but there was a service in progress so we just wandered around the old churchyard reading the epitaphs and then sheltered under the pretty wood and tile lychgate to don our coats as it began to rain again.
The pretty little cottages in the lane took on a damp look as the rain lashed against them, their usually bright whitewashed walls would have positively sparkled if the sun had been out, the roses still flowering around their doors hung their heads heavily as they glistered with raindrops, but it wasn't to be so we continued on our way in the now drizzly dull weather.
Cottages with windows set in or right up to the roof usually had thatched roofs originally.
There's a beautiful Weslyan Hall at the end of the lane.
John Wesley the Methodist journeyman preacher came and spread his ministry from the village green three times on his various trips around the country. He must have made a big impact. He often stood on the steps of the village crosses to preach so maybe he used the mounting block here!
The old village pump is still there, set into the wooden railings that encompass the mere and we gazed across past the war memorial to the beautiful black and white timbered 'Altisidora' public house.
It's named for a famous racehorse, the winner of a St. Leger race in the 1800's and bred by Richard Watt, a nephew of the Lord of the Monor. The family owned lots of racehorses but this is the most famous.
The pub has lots of memorabilia with paintings of horses plus whips, stirrups and jockey's caps and colours adorning the walls.
It also does a delicious Sunday lunch which we later partook of and pretty delicious it was too. The warmth was very welcome also.
The mere is the central focus of the village with it's memorial to the wars standing on an island in it's centre.
A large flock of ducks and geese came swimming across, quickly exiting the water to following us up the lane in search of food. They turned back when they realised we hadn't any.
There's another smaller pond in the village too but there the ducks seemed more sedate...or full...and stayed on the water as we passed.
I love Pond Farm with the water right up to the path only a couple of feet from the front door...I could just imagine a few too many drinks or a slippery frost and you could be in for an unexpected swim...lol...
Just across the path is the village green, once the heart of village life.
It's quite a large triangular space with a huge spreading chestnut tree at it's centre. It boasts an old stone mounting block and wooden seats so you can sit and take in the tranquillity...unfortunately we couldn't take advantage of them in the wet conditions.
The chilly weather of last week has finally urged the trees to stop producing chlorophyll and as the green is withheld the oranges, yellows and reds of their foliage is now beginning to show.
The grass was covered with a golden carpet of shed leaves which squelched rather than crunched beneath our feet. I'd wanted to do the childlike thing and kick through them but sadly they were just too wet and soggy!
Maybe a visit in more clement weather is called for but I hope you enjoy this little foray into a quintessential English village.
Quintessential English cottages complete with roses!
All Saints Chuch circa 1241
DH under the lychgate
A pretty cottage
Pond Farm, one too many and splash!!
The old village pump
The village green with it's chestnut tree
The Weslyan Hall
Cottages on the green
And the mounting block.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Every now and again, maybe three or four times a year I meet up with two of my cousins for a day out.
They're sisters aged eighty four and seventy nine so I'm a spring chicken compared to them but to tell the truth, I think they're fitter than I am!
Alma, the seventy nine year old lives in Hertfordshire, around two hundred and fifty miles from me. She uses her free pensioners bus pass to travel on five different buses up to York where her sister Stella lives and then they do another forty miles down into my area to visit me...intrepid isn't the word for her.
I say 'I'll come up to Stella's' but no, they like to get out and about which is fair enough. We try to meet up in a town we haven't visited for a while and wander around all day sight seeing and reminiscing...no sitting inside a house and relaxing for us!
This time we agreed to meet in Bridlington, the little seaside resort in my last blog with the high waves and strong winds. This time couldn't have been more different.
It was quite overcast when I set off.
I have difficulty getting out from my village to catch buses, I can't drive but I also have a free pensioners bus pass and as there are no buses in and out of our village my DH has to give me a lift to the nearest town so I can catch the bus from there.
Yesterday was an early start, he's an upholsterer and he had to deliver to a customer and collect material from a depot all before the bus I needed. It was also the opposite direction to what I needed to go so I had to set off with him at eight fifteen am to go with him and then he dropped me off to catch a bus to get me into Bridlington to meet up with the bus from York.
I arrived in Bridlington an hour earlier than I had intended so decided on a walk along the promenade. The harbour was deserted except for a lone fisherman hosing down the hull of his boat. The spray seemed to hang in the air like mist and the swooshing sound echoed around the pier.
There was an unusual pink toned cloud which seemed to stretch across the whole of my vision, long and fluffy it hung like a ceiling above the masts of the boats tied up in the marina...so pretty!
A pair of herring gulls flew down and perched on exposed timbers quite near to me, ever hopeful for food from a tourist...they were unlucky this time!
I headed into town and the bus station, I was still early but the sun was trying to break through and it was quite pleasant so I arranged my red Christmas M&S carrier (it had rained in the night) on a wet seat, I always carry it with me for that reason, and perched waiting for the bus.
An elderly couple came and stood nearby, we began chatting (my DH says I'll talk to anyone...lol...) when we became aware of someone very loudly singing 'Brown girl in the ring la la la la lah' and a young woman dressed in turquoise shorts, pink sleeveless vest and one of those new scarfs that have an animal hat and pockets for your hands hove into view (hers was a lion hat) she stopped in the middle of the road and sang the song the whole way through before curtsying, thanking us for the nice compliments (even though no-one had said a word!) and disappearing around the corner...very entertaining.
We were just saying she had a nice singing voice when she reappeared, sang 'Somewhere over the rainbow' all the way through before a man and a woman in a nurse's uniform arrived, said 'Come on now Laura it's time to go' and led her away.
I'm not sure where she'd come from but she was very entertaining and the time had passed quickly thanks to her inpromptu performance.
My legs were beginning to feel a little cold and cramped, the chill from the wet seat was making itself felt and I hadn't had my bum on the plastic bag properly so I had a wet patch on the top of my leg. I was just about to get to my feet when the York bus appeared around the corner.
It wasn't the usual common or garden red variety but a lovely shade of blue and was called a Coast Hopper. Stella said the seats were quite plush and it was nice and warm.
After hugs and kisses we ajourned to a new Italian cafe, which had apparently only opened on Monday, for a warming drink.
Over delicious coffee and hot chocolate we exchanged news until Stella reckoned they'd be asking us to leave as we'd sat there way too long over only one drink apiece.
We spilled out into a now pleasant sunny day and meandered along the promenade watching the sun send sparkles across the little waves as they lapped against the wooden groyne seawater breaks along the beach.
We even had an ice cream cone and pretty deelish it was too!
The land train appeared, a little white chugging engine with open carriages which runs, without the aid of rails, from one side of the bay to the other so we decided to take a ride along the promenade's length which took in both sides of the bay. Pensioners rates and a good long pleasant ride for what little we paid.
We alighted at a different spot to which we boarded and wandered through the little town. Stella had been before with her DH but Alma had never been since she was a child and couldn't remember anything there, even the pier area looks different and the amusements take up a lot of space where there used to be an old Army Fort, the one thing she did remember but which had been pulled down in the name of so called progress!
After a light lunch in the restaurant on the top floor of a large department store, which boasted grand views out to sea as we ate, we entered the covered shopping precinct, browsing the many shops and complaining it was too warm. Stella said all shopping arcades were the same and we could just as well have been in any town we cared to name though she does like picking through the charity shops for a bargain and as there were two of them she was in her glory especially when she found a pretty floaty top that fit her!
Eventually it came to leaving time.
Their bus went ten minutes before mine and as I waved them off I thought what a lovely easy day it had been, good company and good weather...very enjoyable.
As I sat on the bus heading home watching the seaside disappear and green countryside take it's place, I was thinking how well my foot had stood up to being encased in my shoe for at least ten hours so far, I marvelled at the way I had no pain even though I have a broken toe.
DH was waiting in the bus station, as I arrived he took my bag and once in the car we headed off in the opposite direction to our home. He said 'We might as well have tea out' when I queried where we were going.
Very nice it was too, it rounded off the day remarkably well and when we finally arrived home twelve hours after I set out I slipped of my shoes enthusing to DH how my toe hadn't hurt at all...then I caught it with my shoe and set it throbbing something awful...lol...it plagued me all the rest of the evening before settling down as my painkillers took hold.
The bed felt feather soft and cloud like as I lay down.
I slept like a top eventually waking late after DH shook me saying I needed to get up right now as I had a doctors appointment in quarter of an hour...the surgery is ten minutes from home!!...and I wouldn't have time to get ready if I didn't hurry up!
We made it in time and my toe doesn't hurt at all today either!
Beautiful and unusual cloud
Sunlight glints across the sea
shell mosaics set into the front of a little trinket shop on the harbour top, each one was around three foot square
Monday, October 15, 2012
Yesterday was blustery!
Short sharp showers and strong wind make a good combination to define that word.
We ventured out for our walk dressed up to the nines in warm, wind and waterproof clothing.
We still seem to be heading for the coast at the moment, the last two week-ends were cliff tops and though we didn't do them this week we stuck to the coast walking around the pretty little seaside resort of Bridlington.
It's past its season now but there were a few people out for a Sunday afternoon walk along the beach and seafront.
Ever opportunistic the icecream vendors plied their wares and the amusements bright lights beckoned.
We wandered around town first just window shopping and watching other people warming up in the bright little cafes, sitting in the warm window seats watching the passers by, with hands snug round their mugs and steam wafting into their faces.
DH visited the bookies, he'd been given a tip.
A man's domain if ever there was one, I felt like an intruder but at least it was warm and wind free in there even if his horse is still running!!
A winless and windless respite before we headed down to the seafront through the narrow streets for a walk along the promenade...I was going to say a stroll along the promenade but that would be a bit of an understatement as we were rather blown along it...lol...
We had intended to beachcomb but the tide was almost in, just a thin sliver of uncovered shingely sand left undisturbed by the silvery water creeping ever higher.
It was studded with a myriad of pebbles, countless colours washed clean with every sweep of the sea, and seabirds hanging after a last feed before roosting.
Mostly waders with a few juvenile Herring Gulls thrown in.
The cute little Sanderlings were in such a hurry as usual, scurrying amongst the other birds at breakneck speed. Their little legs seem a blur as they scurry past. It's ironic really as they must be feeding as they go but you can never seem to catch them at it....and as for a photograph, well, you can forget that, they're just too quick plus they're sand coloured and hard to spot!
Turnstones meandered along reminding me of those little old men you see strolling with their hands behind their backs, they had their choice of large or small pebbles to turn over or to probe around with their long beaks whilst the juvenile Herring Gulls in their brown and white mottled feathers wandered around at the waters edge occasionally getting a soaking as a wave rolled in and they weren't quick enough to flight.
A Great Black Backed Gull was there too, raucously crying and flapping his great wings, making his presence felt as he thuggishly maneuvered himself between the much smaller birds so that they felt they had to move on. He has a vicious looking yellow beak with a large red dot on the end.
Oyster catchers probed with their bright red beaks, they have matching red legs and a haunting scry like a baby crying!
The waves were spectacular, even the smaller ones just pounding in to shore were around twenty foot high, foaming white crests and brown streaked underbellies thick with churned up sand they galloped onto shore like the proverbial white horses, rearing up and crashing down, staying only a moment as the tide pulled the water back to sea.
It was so deceiving for as you looked south towards the harbour they pounded up the high stone walls reaching heights of around sixty feet or more, the walls are over forty feet high!
Sending icy cold spray crashing and cascading over the paths and funfair rides on the harbour top. It glinted in the afternoon sun forming large puddles and dripping off the roofs.
A fine white spray hung in the air clinging to us like mist and the wind shrieked and battered at our clothing.
But looking north, back towards the cliff area it seemed calmer and though the waves were still riding high at around twenty feet they seemed almost friendly as they swooshed and hissed their way up the beach in a mass of foamy bubbles, sending the birds running out of it's reach and then back again to forage around the pebbles as the water receded with little slurping sucking sounds, making vee shaped patterns with it's pull.
There were other intrepid photographers out braving the spray for a shot of a lifetime. And people crowded along the rails to see the power of the waves as they soared high into the air but everyone was sensible...there was not one idiot about to see if they could beat the waves, which was good to see as things can easily end in tradgedy.
We headed back in to town, stopping off for a quick sit down away from the wind in a seafront shelter. A welcome respite from the elements it was welcoming and almost warm. Festooned with lovely brightly coloured pictures painted by local school children and printed onto perspex to make attractive signs. They were sunk into the wall and edged with bricks to look like pictures in frames, very effective.
Walking back we made a detour hoping to go through the Trinity Cut, a small narrow sandy walkway down to the beach which was once the way down for the Victorian horse drawn lifeboats, now the donkeys and fishermen use it in the summer months. No chance of going down it today though so I took a picture through the beautiful wrought iron railings which run along the side.
Trinity Church spire to it's left looked spectacular with the sun behind it, almost menacing with the dark clouds and golden edgings. Like an advert for a horror film.
The spire is a welcome local landmark for fishermen, the first thing they see as they return to harbour after being out at sea plying their trade.
Here are a few pictures for you, they don't really convey the feeling of power the sea has but I hope you can see some of what I experienced and was so inadequately trying to describe.
wave power, crashing up to sixty foot and more high
wave power, the walls are over forty foot high!
wave coming in to shore, around twenty feet high!
incoming wave, all foam and bubbles as it crashes to shore
receding wave sucking patterns into the beach
Turnstones, they live up to their names when feeding on the shoreline
Great Black Backed Gull, a big bully!
like minded observer taking snaps
Looking back towards the cliffs the sea seems a lot calmer
railings at the Trinity Cut
Trinity Church spire, a seafarers landmark
fish picture in the shelter, so bright and colourful
beach ball picture
beach huts picture
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