Swaledale

We have over 200 holiday pics, so don't come avisiting in the near future as you will not escape easily.

The cottage was gorgeous, seventeenth century with television and stone steps that twisted up and down to each room.

The garden ended suddenly in what they called a ha-ha, in effect an unfenced 8' drop into the sheep field below and the River Swale beyond.

We were anxious that Hattie would walk into thin air,[and land on thistles] but instead, the next day,she fell off this walkers' bank, above the river,fortunately on the sheep side.
We panicked but the sheep ignored her and she broke no bones.
Swaledale is just so lovely, the richest green I have ever seen, miles of intricate dry stone walling and wet becks and waterfalls.

This is purportedly the highest single drop in England,

this isn't.
All the rain that keeps the grass so green, runs down the hills into the myriad of tributaries over the rocks and into the Swale, which we were told with glee can rise 3 metres in 3 hours in the winter. Fortunately we only had 2 days of rain and we had a jigsaw.

high jump

On Bank Holiday weekend we ventured down from the hill as I had run out of my favourite gunpowder tea.
Usually I keep a low profile when the sun is out, the populace is on holiday and it is the last w/e of the school holidays. However needs must.
The expensive organic farmshop down the road was celebrating making oodles of cash from the hungry middle classes by installing several marquees of aromatic, sizzling beef burgers, lots of little tents of hand made jewelry [for some reason] and a bungee jumpers crane.
I've never seen one in the flesh, so freakin high! and then the young person gets told to look straight out, not down, and then step into space, head first.
OMG the girl in the pic got a bit frantic [surprise] and started flailing around so much I thought she might crash into the crane, but i guess they know what they are doing, as she landed safely, if incoherently.
I used to think I should do a parachute jump, for the thrill - to prove something. Now I am an old girl I think life is quite risky enough, so watching others has to satisfy.

privileged

The buyer who bought Eve and Adam is an enthusiastic lady who tends to stalk her artists; after many phone calls I surrendered to her kind invitation [having run out of excuses, except the truth I am an anti-social grump] and accompanied by Ruth riding shotgun, we set out to go for lunch at her rather lovely farmhouse deep in the countryside.
R drives a black and shiny Beemer convertible, which also seemed an appropriate horse on which to ride up on, except we got horribly lost down the rabbit runs of country lanes.
At one point Ruth tried to take a tractor driver hostage and force him to guide us until i pointed out [with a squeak] that his tractor was pulling a heavy trailer and approaching us at a rate of knots.
An hour late for our appointment and fruitless use of petrol and temper we came across L striding along a lane looking for us, presumably she would have hunted us down whatever we did.
I am not good with posh persons who drawl yahhhhh and show no sign of nerves in any situation, but L was also very sweet.
She has amassed a full load of local and more prestigious artists work and introduced us to each one in turn.

I was very taken with this.


and these two.

We had lunch eventually in the kitchen, which was originally the dairy. So on a grey, rainy day very cold, but being upper class she didn't notice, tho she did go so far as to warm up her remaining morning coffee for us till it was at least blood heat. Oh the insouciance of those with total confidence of their position in the cosmos.
We had an almost living trout unceremonious salad with home made mayonnaise and flies, lots of flies. I am a fly fanatic and own two swatters, unfortunately L didn't.
After lunch we toured the grounds

Apparently there are no fish for the mermaid to look after because otters have been reintroduced into the county. L and the mermaid are not amused.
Not a problem in our little plastic pond which is only occasionally visited by a roaming frog or thirsty pigeon.

I won't name this maker as L would be anxious about the info floating round the web about her garden ornaments. Suffice to say as teenager I was besotted with his work and to see it roaming free was a special pleasure.

Batter wars

Against Gillian's Dave's Yorkshire [17th August] I play Retired Person's Toad in the Hole

stitched up

Finally finished and posted Dinosaur to Glorious Grandson. Hopefully the swearing and general irritability incurred when I couldn't get the legs right won't be sewn into every stitch.
I got the basic pattern from the net, tho really it was kind of common sense scrawled on some newspaper. But the original had the legs as two blocks and I thought it might confuse the Talented Genius at the other end, so I struggled mightily to produce 4 separate appendages.
Who knew it would prove so difficult, no wonder on the Seventh day She rested, I found creating very dispiriting.
Fortunately I have oodles of purple felt so can now chuck all the scraps of failure with a clear conscience [mostly, obviously I was bought up to save string and wrapping paper etc.]
Hopefully the hand stitching, which was more fun, will be strong enough to withstand the full five minutes of attention before GG goes on to something that makes a noise.
He is very taken with Dinosaurs tho. When we Skype he has the book to hand with a pic of different dino for every letter of the alphabet. Quite useful for maintaining contact with limited vocabulary at the mo.
Other projects have not flown along, tho it isn't the legs in this case.

I have added a table line and a fallen petal to balance the design, but once I stretched it the lines I had endured much fury trying to get straight have wavered some what.
Ma-in-law donated an abandoned print for the frame, so maybe the unusually minimalist design is a reflection of her restrained relationship avec moi. I notice one of the petals i upside down too, damn.


This effort is supposedly Green Woman as opposed to Man. I have no idea how to move it forward.
We were going to see a textile exhibition at Hyde Hall [RHS] today, until I noticed it doesn't start until the w/e. Life is stuck in the slow lane/lay-by/.......garage.

wellie weather

Feel a bit like the swan's view at the moment as it is raining so continuously, but can't complain when half of Pakistan is suffering so badly.
We are between two tidal rivers here so I am conscious of what could happen if the seas rise in time but seeing those devastated families struggling thru the mud on the gog is a nightmare.
Hopefully the charity money will get thru to those who need it.

The sun here [I suppose]has produced this total covering of ponds with tiny emerald green leaves.

short break

Queen Mothers birthday again, so time to take a quick mid week break to mark the day we met,[RP and me, not us and the QM] I stuck to white wine rather than gin and it however.
Hattie the dog enjoyed the beach walks and also the ramble thru a bird sanctuary.
Not particularly frequented by birds on the day but lots of butterflies and [as we now know,] day time moths

Lots of little brown jobs, white ones with and without spots and tiny blue ones. Other bolder - more colourful too, but the very devil to get a photo, they stay still up till the last second then giggle and flit off.

It was so relaxing to stay in a big old fashioned hotel and get regularly served hot food. Wonderful sausages in our "full English" and multi story ice cream sundays [not at the same meal, tho I might have been tempted.
Miles of walking meant I didn't really put on much weight so a win win situation, or zero sum, whatever that is.
Old lady [older than me] on the bus one day harangued the shell sculpture on the beach, everybody here hates it she chanted, only thing it is good for is a dogs toilet. Philistines everywhere.

tiny golem

]
We had a nice little trip yesterday to an Arts Centre kindly funded by the profits of our supermarket purchases and the collection fever of the main man [and his wife


The main attraction was some textiles by Henry Moore


But mostly I enjoyed revisiting the permanent exhibition and probably taking the same photos again. But then we went downstairs to the Unearthed exhibition. Little clay figures made up to 5000 years ago.
The curator had arranged for a local artist Sue Maufe to give each entrant a little tiny clay figure, made by her and her elves.
We were supposed to break them as archaeologists had found so many broken shards they came to believe that this was the custom of the time, perhaps for luck.
Nobody in my hearing agreed to kill their little friend and mine is now watching me type.
It was good to feed the brain and imagination.
I heard the phrase today be pessimistic of intellect and optimistic of will.
That sounds reasonable.

deckchairs

Went to local museum/gallery where various "names" had been asked to paint deckchairs for some reason and for charity.

Your actual artists and illustrators did better than authors and actors in the main.

They scattered some round the museum rooms, mixed with local history and lined some up in the gallery, in front of the Gainsborough's and Constables who may or may not have been affronted.

They will be auctioned off in the fullness of time. Not sure what one does with your purchase, can't really sit on it and it will look a bit odd hung on the wall.

nature notes

Within a couple of days the green shoots of recovery.

Today up to seven baby blue tits on the nuts and a greater spotted wood pecker visited but didn't stay for his portrait.

It goes against my grain for some reason to be optimistic - I just foresee the cat. That doesn't mean to say I won't attack any problem head on, and then whinge, so I must expect somethings can be made better.
Daughter seems to be developing similar traits. We agree that since she has become a mother she has realised she just has to get on with it, whatever it is.
At the mo, as a single mum with no income and husband's debts accruing, she has a vomiting toddler with a throat infection and a big, elderly chow with maggots up her bum.
It seems that the dog has got sticky seedy things stuck in her hot fur/skin which have become infected. So there is Princess Daughter cutting back the fur, hauling out maggots and applying medication.
Fortunately no pics.

before and after

The bad news is that the boy child, in a cottage below, has been given a vuvuzela, unfortunately he is known to be persistent - he still bounces every day on his big garden trampoline usually kicking his beloved football at the same time, so I don't hold out much hope that he will lose interest in blowing his own trumpet for some time.
It sounds like a lost and weary elephant calling for his herd.

This is not the elephant, it is the hay binder that caught fire and set fire to several barley and potato fields plus some woods on Wednesday.



Driving back from stewarding I could smell the smoke two villages away and my eyes were smarting as I got near home. Visions of wet dog, cat and Retired Person dripping on the lawn while old homestead smoked in ruins.
However it was up aways and across the road and the firemen had doused the worst.
The poor old Millennium hedge has taken a bashing, which is a shame it took a lot of time and money sticking all those plastic tubes with twigs into the ground - so I am told.
We were hoping to live long enough to have the branches meet over our heads as we walked as they used to when G'dad was a boy

Hot work apparently, one doesn't think of these practicalities.
I remember being driven back to college and all the fields seem to be on fire to my urban eyes, I wondered if war had been declared [we were living under threat of the Bomb [not terrorism] but it in those days the farmers used to burn off the stubble. Not allowed now, naughty dirty smoke.
Naughtiness will always find a way it seems

smelling the daisies

Big white daisy time of year again. As with everything else growing in the garden all is flamboyantly flourishing. We had a couple of nights of heavy rain and lots of days of hotness, tho it has degenerated into muggy haze today.
The postman was complaining, tho his knees were nicely browned in his Royal Mail shorts. I have put the little fences down the front path again so the dew/rain doesn't dampen his enthusiasm for delivering bills.
I still expect letters, but apart from the occasional postcard there is nothing. Obviously i don't write by snail mail to anyone, but somehow I expect letters to still appear.

This deckchair by Jane is the highlight of our textile show, it sold as well for £190 which really was too little.
I am off to steward for the closing day tomorrow, always a test of patience. I am doing a bit of crazy patchwork as therapy so i guess I should take that with me to shut me up.

I liked this applique by Pat, so I have started one of white daisies but I don't know if my design is bold enough.
This is a felted version by someone else that I forget, tomorrow I will have time to remember each piece and it's maker several times over.
My bleak thoughts seem to have blossomed a bit, maybe because I am busier. Yesterday I went to my new Stitching group [I am in 3 now!] and the gentle enthusiam did raise my spirits, we hope to have a small exhibition in December, some of them have not exhibited before so I hope we do sell some things.
Liz has the confidence to charge £400 for her smallish stitched tapestries.
She is small herself with 2 small children, but she used to be in engineering and has a refreshingly literal approach to many things. Quiet but determined.
Ruth's trees and buildings I found pleasing
Nearly everyone did plants but these triads found a way in.