Category Archives: Adventure

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Burning Love

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Today is John’s birthday.

It’s the fourth one I’ve been able to share with him and while he doesn’t like to make too much of his own birthdays, he goes out of his way to make mine special. Right about now you may be thinking, “If it’s John’s birthday, why are we looking at a picture of you blowing out candles?”

Let me tell you a story …

Remember when I wrote here about being in Scotland for my birthday? Well, we were there because John had big a reunion nearby with former colleagues from the television station where he’d worked before retiring. A few months before the event, he noticed the date was on my birthday and he kindly asked if I would mind going that evening.

Once he was sure I was fine with sharing the day, he began planning how he might make it memorable for me too. He knows I love a trip to Scotland so it was big part the fun we had on my birthday and our evening finished with a small carrot cake in our hotel that night after the reunion. The cake part presented a little problem though.

I’m a big believer in candle blowing and wish making on birthdays. There’s something hopeful, thankful, and celebratory about the act that feels necessary to me and I can’t imagine a birthday without it.

John is not that bothered by it on his own birthday but he knows how important it is to me. We took the cake with us on our outing thinking we might have it during our day out in Scotland, but stayed in motion so much that we decided to save it for after the reunion. When we rushed in to shower and change for the evening, we realized that we didn’t have a way to light the candles for the cake.

He went out to buy some matches or a lighter and was gone so long I was beginning to worry. I didn’t know that since we were in a hotel in the center of Carlisle and it was evening that the shops would be closed.

Poor John searched everywhere for an open shop to get what we needed and finally ended up a good distance away in a pub that he was familiar with from his days of living there. They didn’t sell matches, but the guy behind the bar gave him a box they had for the pub’s use.

After hearing about his search, I asked him how far he’d had to go before finding them and was really touched when he said, ” About a mile. “

Life with him is like that. A million little sweet gifts of service that say love. I am a fortunate woman to have found this gentle man and I am so happy to be able to celebrate another birthday with him today.

Of course I had to save the matches … I’ll use one later to light a candle or two for John and hope to post a picture here later today of him making a wish.

Here’s a photo to save the spot for now. I think of this look as his determined face. I’ve seen it before although it does look a bit different with the beard and all.

I imagine this was the expression he was wearing all around Carlisle a few weeks ago and it makes me smile just thinking about it.

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Tearful Reunions Taking Place In Cornwall

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Patrice & Lisa Arrive By Train

We’ve been showing off Cornwall to friends Patrice and Lisa over the last few days and I wanted to share our reunion with you. I think the sweetness in this hello has to be seen.

Patrice was saying “E,” a nickname some of my friends like to call me, only when she says it, it sounds more like “Eeeeeeee!”

I think everyone should have this experience at least once in their life where someone shouts their name with delight and opens their arms for a big embrace. We do it with our children especially when they’re young and I wonder how much better we’d all feel if greetings in general were more joyful and enthusiastic.

Lisa took this picture of me giving Patrice a big happy hug and the one below as well!

Happy Tears To See Each Other

Patrice and I have known each other for ten years and found a compatibility in our communication right from the first when I showed up in her physical therapy office needing help with a painful hip injury.

We chatted our way through my physical therapy appointments always running out of time with more to say so I suggested we get together for dinner after completing my course of therapy and we’ve been friends ever since. It’s difficult for some of us to find close friends later in life especially the kind you can trust with your secrets and it’s comforting to me to know Patrice is that kind of friend.

We’ve seen each other through some extreme times of sweetness and sorrow watching and supporting each other through major life changes that seemed to happen all at once in our 40s. We’ve laughed and cried our way through romantic disasters, shifts in employment, and the death of both of her parents in the last ten years. It has not always been easy.

Our 50s have a different look about them as we’ve worked to create lives that are more of what we want and while we still struggle occasionally with our individual areas of stress and compromise, I think we’ve both learned the joy in holding tightly to moments with people we love and value.

Patrice is here with her partner Lisa for a few days and John and I are having a blast showing them all the places we love. Their clear delight in everything (except apple cider) makes each day an exciting race to see more and I’m taking pictures of them like a mad paparazzi documenting moments we’ll want to remember.

The pictures above were taken at the train station Saturday evening and capture our happy reunion. We were both teary even though we had said goodbye in Atlanta only last month. I feel sure my tears were more about welcoming a dear friend to my life here in Cornwall than about anything else and it thrills me to see her enthusiasm and appreciation for the places I’ve come love and think of as home.

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Hermitage Castle – Bordering On Trouble

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I wanted to show you more pictures of the Scottish castle John and I saw last Saturday and I even found some excellent inside shots of Hermitage Castle on Flickr since I was too chicken to go in for a look. If you read my post yesterday, you’ll remember I got an uneasy feeling so I only photographed the exterior.

After doing a bit of research, I found that Hermitage Castle had a bloody history and some famous associations. Mary, Queen of Scots made a daring visit to Hermitage to see the man who would become her third husband while she was still married to her second one. This led to a good bit of gossip even though the two hours she spent with the Earl of Bothwall were well chaperoned.

The castle’s border location between England and Scotland made it a target for the Border Reivers and it became known as ‘The guardhouse of the bloodiest valley in Britain.’

I took the quote below from the Historic Scotland website and it gives a brief overview as to why Hermitage Castle gives off such scary energy.

‘Hermitage, in deepest Liddesdale, is a lonely spot. The feeling of foreboding is heightened by the presence of the awesome castle ruin. It has inspired colourful local legends – of the wicked Lord Soules and of a giant Englishman with impregnable armour who drowned in the nearby Hermitage Water. In truth, though, Hermitage has no need of myths. It has a history of torture, treason – and romantic trysts – sufficient for a host of castles.’

  The castle sits along a river that you can see in the shot above.

A woman with a dog is going into the entrance of the castle. It’s not as large a doorway as I would have expected especially with castle walls high enough to have held five or more floors. (Double click on any to enlarge)

The ruins of a chapel nearby.

These last two photos have nothing to do with the castle, but I thought you might find them interesting. I took them in Carlisle Cathedral. I was trying to shoot the window you see in the distance and when I downloaded my images, I was surprised to see the white shapes against the pillar.

I didn’t see them when I was taking the photographs. Things looked dark through the camera and I was worried these two shots would be worthless since I was shooting without a flash and really needed more light.

I don’t think it’s a reflection as there was no flash or window light and I’m stumped. Any ideas?

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Birthday Travels & Scary Castles

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Double Click On The Image To Step Into The English Countryside

John and I went north last week to attend a reunion with some people he used to work with in Carlisle. Since my birthday fell during that time, we added a few days to make the long drive more fun. I’ve got about 700 photographs from the area where Beatrix Potter used to write about her friends on the farm, and I’d love to show you a few, but you’ll have wait until tomorrow when I’ve had time to sort some out for you.

We skipped over the border of England into Scotland on the 10th for my birthday and came across an 800 year-old castle that too scary to me to even go into. John wouldn’t have minded, but I had an odd feeling and was content to snap my photos from a distance. I’ll tell you what I discovered later when I researched the castle online. Here’s a photo or two so you can see what I mean about spooky.

 

I’m usually quite fearless when it comes to poking around ancient monuments, but some places feel less inviting than others. Although John never seems to feel this way, I’d be willing to bet that some of my readers know what I’m talking about.

 

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What Do You Mean I Can’t Drive Your Car …

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Mini Driver No More - Elizabeth Harper

I’m grounded.

After 35 years of getting into a car, fastening the seatbelt, and turning the key in the ignition, I no longer can do that … at least not in this country, for now.

Moving to the UK has its challenges and some are easier to understand than others. I can understand why I should have to take a written test to prove I know the rules of the road here, but having had a valid driver’s license for 35 years in the US, I would think I might be able to skip the driving part of the exam.

I know you’re probably thinking, ” Oh good grief Elizabeth, just take the test and stop moaning about it! ” I might think the same without knowing the rest of the story.

While I was stuck in Atlanta this summer John opened the annual bill from his auto insurance company to find that it had jumped from a reasonable 180 BPS (about $295 US) to over 700 BPS which is about $1150 dollars.

Calling to discuss the huge increase, he discovered that my provisional license which is like a learner’s permit in the US had caused the rate increase. It seems after 35 years of driving I now have more in common with a teenage boy than the other 50 year-old female drivers out there.

Being a sensible man when it comes to money, John did what I would have done and took me off the policy grounding me until I can pass the test and be eligible for a more reasonable rate of insurance. I have to wonder if my 35 years of driving will be acknowledged by the insurance company when I do pass or will that part of my life be as non-existent as my credit rating.

That’s right, I have no credit rating anymore either. I still have one in the US just not over here, but that’s another post that perhaps I can combine with a one titled, ” What do you mean I’m not qualified? ” or maybe one I’ll call ” What about my university degree and years of professional work experience, doesn’t that count? ”

Sorry, I think I slipped over into the beginnings of a rant for a second. I’m back now.

Getting behind the wheel with no car insurance means hiring a driving instructor. Yes, I did say a driving instructor. Never mind that I’ve driven from Scotland to London three times in a rental car and loads of places between Cornwall and London, I can only drive on my American license for a year before being required to get a UK one and that year is long gone.

So I’m grounded for now until I hire an instructor and pay more money (my learner’s permit or provisional license) cost about $82 dollars. The test fees will be another 93 BPS or about $150 US and don’t even ask what an instructor will cost. Just know that it’s enough to go away somewhere nice for the weekend or a week depending on how many days you can squeak by with before being tested. I haven’t called yet so I don’t know if there’s a required minimum.

When you have an instructor you drive their car for the driving portion of the test and I assume that may drive the cost up a bit. I’m so unenthused about the process and the cost factor that my Highway Code Handbook is still largely unread. I move it from one place to another around the house ignoring it as I can’t help feeling a bit offended by my loss of mobility and parts of my previous identity.

It’s like being 16 again only this time I’m a high-risk teenage boy.

Today’s challenge is to read and study the book and maybe call the instructor to see when I can get back on the road again. Ugh!

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Angela Jardine & The Write About Love Project

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Paris - 2010

Last February I announced ‘ The Write About Love Project ‘ and then promptly seemed to forget about it. I assure you that like most things that compete for my attention, TWALP has not been forgotten but only tucked away for a bit waiting for a chance to showcase the stories of someone new.

In July I received a gentle inquiry from blogger and writer Angela Jardine, or Angie as I’ve come to know her. She sent me an essay that I had overlooked and later a followup email to see if I’d received it. After getting over my embarrassment for being so slack with email, I found her essay a nice fit and hope you’ll enjoy it too.

One of the best parts of blogging is when we have an opportunity to meet people through a chance online connection. While I’m not completely sure how Angie found ‘ Gifts Of The Journey, ‘ I would guess it had something to do with Cornwall.

She and her husband live in Devon now, but will soon be moving to a village near mine. We’ll be connected by the Camel Trail and the idea of riding my bike to see her has me impatient for her to arrive.

I’ve nicked a photo of her from one of the sites where she writes http://angiejardine.hubpages.com/ and you can also read what she has to say at http://thisisangiesblog.blogspot.com/ as well.

Click here to read her essay for TWALP and find out what she loves and why.

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Risking A Fall To Get What You Want

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Elizabeth Walking Her Path - 2011

That was me yesterday standing on the edge of bridge so I could get a better shot. I felt pretty safe up there especially as it wasn’t my first time. I climbed up back in May of 2008 right after I had rented my house to strangers, quit my job, turned down another job offer, and sold my car and most of the stuff I’d spent my whole life accumulating.

You see I had a plan for a new life and there was no room for excess stuff. I was traveling light which meant hanging on to only the things and people that mattered most to me.

John and I were still a new relationship back then having only met in person three months earlier, but I knew I was doing the right thing in leaving for love like I did. Having lived a pretty full life for my then 47 years, I knew that sometimes risk was necessary even if when the outcome couldn’t be predicted.

Some folks back home in Georgia thought I was crazy for selling off my stuff and essentially moving to a country where I would be considered a visitor and only allowed to stay for six months out of the year, but I believed that no matter what happened I’d be okay.

I have always believed the Helen Keller quote that, ” Life is a grand adventure or nothing at all ” so off I went … following my heart to Cornwall all wide open with the possibility that the risk involved might yield the best possible results.

And as most of you know, it did!

If however, you’d had a window into my life and events the year before I met John you might be surprised that I had ever been willing to risk a single thing for love. What happened then is an old story with a modern twist and not one you’re likely to read here, but I’m sure it will turn up in the book I’ve been working on recently. I haven’t gotten very far with it yet. Most of it exists on index cards right now as I run through my memories mining for the events that have mattered the most.

There’s all kinds fear in writing memoir such as who might read it and get upset, who might remember it differently, and the really big one, what if revealing the past affects your present in ways you can’t control and ways you don’t like.

Having heard my stories since we first met, John has encouraged to me write them down. By stories I mean my true life stories, not the fiction ones which may have a thread of truth through them, but come mostly from my imagination.

During my recent summer of  ” Lost and Found ” a few other people echoed the same message to me. Some of them were only repeating what they’d said before encouraging me once again to put my real life into words more permanent the occasional musings over coffee or a shared meal.

My longtime friend Patrice, and newer friend Greta Jaeger are two of the people I’m referring to. Both of them not only gave me ” the talk ” about writing my story, but they paid for dinner too. Greta works as a life coach and did such a good job over appetizers that I jokingly said I felt as if I should write her a check for a session as she left me with so much to consider.

My friend Carla Johnson did the final wrap up a few months later when she asked me some pointed questions about writing and my goals. Carla can cut to the heart of something with the skill of a surgeon and after years of working with medically fragile people, she knows how to help expose the truth without leaving you bleeding.

This post finds inspiration from many people, but the biggest push came from reading the revealing email below that I received from Marianne Elliot this morning.

I subscribe to more than I can read these days so most things like this go into the trash pretty quickly. This one caught my eye because I was interested to read about an event she had to cancel, one that for whatever reason did not work out and how she choose to see it as an opportunity to try a new way rather than an excuse to dwell in the negative messages that most of us tell ourselves when we feel afraid or overwhelmed by circumstance.

I’ll leave you with her email (along with another photo of me from 2008 ) and hope you find some encouragement if you need a little today.

Marianne Elliot’s email,  Subject: Ever fallen flat on your face? I just did. And here’s how I’m dusting myself off.

” You know the Creative Flow workshop in Berkeley I’ve been telling you about for the past couple of months?

Well, it just didn’t take. 
Maybe it was the wrong workshop. Maybe it was just the wrong time. Maybe I’m terrible at marketing. Maybe no-one likes me (I know, I know. Lots of people like me. But I did wonder that for a moment. I am human after all.)
Whatever the reason, we just didn’t get the sign-ups and had to cancel. I felt like I had really put myself out there for the first time in the US by offering up an in-person workshop, and had fallen flat on my face. In front of all of you. And all my creative friends. 
I felt a bit like I used to in school when I would try a new trick with my skipping rope and end up tripping myself up, landing on my ass. Face flushed. Heart racing. Ashamed. 
But I’m not a little girl any more. Thank goodness. These days I can recognise my own shame and fear, and I know that we all share those experiences. I also know that sometimes things just don’t work out and even though you might have something to learn from it, it doesn’t mean that you are a failure. 
It might just mean that you should try it a different way. 
So I’m trying this a different way. Instead of the weekend workshop I’m teaching a 90 minute Creative Flow yoga class at 10am this Saturday at the Teahouse Studio, 1250 Addison St, Ste 20, Berkeley.
I understand that an entire weekend was a lot of time, and $380 was a lot of money, to commit right now. So instead lets practice together for 90 minutes. You just need to bring $25, a yoga mat and a journal and pen. We are going to do a little bit of writing to explore how opening the creative flow in our bodies can support our creative work. But you don’t need to consider yourself a ‘writer’ to do this. I promise!
If you’d like to come do a 90 minute class with me this Saturday please RSVP to teahousestudio@gmail.com
On the other hand, we’ve had great sign-ups for the Off the Mat, Yoga in Action workshop atYoga Pearl in Portland next Wednesday. There are a few places left though, so if you were thinking of coming and just hadn’t registered yet, you do still have time. That one runs for three hours (from 5.30-8.30pm on Weds 17th) and costs $50. You can learn more about it here and register here.
And thank you – for being here to witness me as I learn these lessons and for being so encouraging along the way. 
Love, 
Marianne “

Elizabeth On The Edge - May 2008

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And The Winner Is …

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John Biking On Bodmin Moor

When my sweet husband bought me a bike of my own, he gave me a gift that made my heart very happy and I’ve had the wildest thoughts while zipping through the lanes or pushing hard to make it up hills. Due to having only three gears, I love how this little beauty makes me work a bit harder to get up the steeper places. Somehow the success at the top feels more like I’ve earned it. I could not have done it half so well without my season of spin classes and think this new bicycle and I shall become the best of friends.

That said let’s move on to the naming and why I chose the one I did. I tend to assign meaning to most things in life so I should not be surprised that the idea of a name for my new ‘girlfriend ‘ seemed important.

Thanks to everyone who offered a suggestion yesterday. They were all lovely in their own way and I appreciated the explanations as well. Angie came closest to the name I chose … offering something similar, but not quite what I had in mind.

I’m calling her Dora and here’s why …

When I was riding so hard up the hills around our village for the first time, I could almost hear the music playing when the bad witch rides by during the tornado scene in the Wizard of Oz movie. Although not the actual scene I’m referring to, this video link has the music I was hearing in my head on those hills.

Counter the witch imagery with the thrill and excitement of flying down through the lanes and you have some of the childlike enthusiasm I was feeling the rest of the time even going so far as to let out a few ” Weeeee, I love this biiiiiiiike” screams in places where my joy could not be contained.

Given the visual imagery, music, and my struggle to go home, how could I not think of Dorothy, her ruby slippers, (my bike is a deep shade of red) and the witch who had to be conquered. Even though Dorothy was was a front-runner, I knew I wanted something shorter and more racy for my girl. I thought Dora might work and when I checked online, I found it was a nickname for Dorothy and that it meant ‘gift’ which seemed just about perfect since she was gifted to me by John.

I know in America that ‘Dora the Explorer ‘ has been a favorite of young girls in particular for some time and while I had no thought at all about that Dora, I feel sure that my Dora and I will do quite a bit of exploring as we spin our way to new adventures.

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Choosing A Name For My New Baby

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Elizabeth Dodging Sheep On Bodmin Moor

Thanks so much to everyone who commented on yesterday’s post and celebrated my return to Cornwall and John. What a great welcome back it was to have such a thoughtful gift from him. I love how he listens to my not so secret dreams and surprises me with an action.

Now … I need a little fun help from you.

I’ve never really been someone who gave names to things like cars and bikes, but with my lovely retro looking ride, I find that I am thinking of a special name for her. I have something clearly in mind, but I might change it (although not likely) if you leave one that wows me.

I’ve got my reasons why I’m leaning in the direction I am, but I’d love to hear what you think before making a final decision. Thanks for your help!

I’m putting my vanity aside and leaving the photo above one you can enlarge even though my hair looks a fright. I want you to be able to see the sheep on the road and the moor. This is one of the roads we drive on regularly to get to our village. When you meet an oncoming car you have to pull over which is easier than meeting in the mostly narrow lanes where someone must backup.

 

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Back In Cornwall & Home At Last

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If you follow me on Facebook, you know I arrived home in Cornwall early yesterday evening. John met me at the gate and I was over the moon to see him. As we live about 4.5 hours from London, he was a bit tired before the day was over. When he meets me at Heathrow, he likes to do the drive in one day preferring a 9 hour drive (500 miles) to an overnight stay in London. He took this photo right when I saw him. I can’t say the woman behind me looks as happy as I do to be there. (Click to enlarge)

Back At Heathrow After Three Months Away

When we made it home, I walked back into my studio space to find a lovely surprise. I had a happy tear or two when I saw John’s thoughtful and unexpected gift. Can you guess what it was …

Is that not the sweetest, most darling, best bike, you’ve ever seen? John said that I need some Brogues and a tweed skirt and I’ll be kitted out just right for my new retro looking bike. My sister Margaret would say that I need a helmet. I do have one, but it’s not retro so I may need to look for one on the London Cycle Chic site.

I think my face says it all … happy, happy, happy!  Now if I can just navigate the narrow lanes without crashing into anything, I’ll be good.

UPDATE: The first ride …

After making a few adjustments to my bike, I changed into pair of cycling shorts cleverly as a skirt and  John and I went for a ride up on the moor. The route we took through the lanes was stunning with color from the wildflowers that were everywhere and the green of the hedges.

I can’t even describe how it looked and felt except to say I was overwhelmed by it all and felt like I was going to have a happy cry more than a time or two. My urban stress melted away out there. Poof! It was gone, just like that.

I loved it! I’d say that my spinning days will quite happily be taking place outdoors. Some of the hills increased my heart rate in the same way my spin classes did and the sheep and wild ponies made for lovely view. I wish you all could have this experience.