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My Last 24 Hours (of 48)

Big Bag Of Dreams

I have always been a bit intrigued with numbers noticing the ways in which one might imbue meaning into a particular one or even a series of numbers such as the 09-09-09 of today’s date. It’s kind of funny in a way since I’ve struggled with math for a fair amount of my life especially in middle school when numbers on a chalkboard could inspire fear faster than almost anything else.

As a child we moved so frequently and sometimes from coast to coast, that many things were lost in the back and forth of change. My math education was one of them. Looking back, I can see how little math I learned in my first 12 years in the classroom, 13 if you want to toss Kindergarten into the mix. So while I’ll could read before many of my fellow Kindergarten classmates, (okay, it was mostly rhyming Dr. Seuss) I never ever felt like I had a secure grasp on numbers during the long years of my public education.

As you can see by my title, change is coming and it’s bearing down rather quickly. In less than 24 hours I will leave 48 behind and slip quietly over in my sleep into the last year left before my 6th decade begins. I have big plans for this year. I have always treated birthdays in the  same way that many do New Year’s Eve, as a time for reflection and goal setting. I like to make a plan around my birthday and write down my dreams and goals for the next year.

It’s easy for me to look back and think about all I haven’t managed to do yet. I’ve had a list of Things To Do Before I Die since 1987 and while I’ve been crossing things off as I complete them, there are a few that I’ve changed my mind about that no longer matter anymore. I’ve been able to do a good many things on my list, but I am not entirely satisfied with where I am in several areas of my life. I enjoy so many good things while others struggle that it seems a bit greedy to want more than I have right now.

Many of the blogs I read on a regular basis have their own lists that they call a variety of names, such these found here: Mondo Beyondo, Life Lists, as in the case of one I read just this morning where Karen Walrond simply refers to her list as her Truest Goals.

After reading Karen’s post this morning, I felt inspired to do something I never do which is to share at least three things from my list for this year. I’m calling mine my Big Bag of Dreams. The title is based on a quote by Benjamin Franklin:

It is hard for an empty Bag to stand up-right.

This year I’m writing down my goals for the last year of my 5th decade on a brown paper bag with the top three on one side and an extended list on the other. I intend to put bits of the things I do to accomplish my goals into the bag so this time next year when 49 rolls over to 50, my bag will be so full it can stand upright. I want a tangible 3D image of what I am doing to fulfill my dreams during year 49 with me everyday.

Here are the big three for next year:

Complete the book I’m writing now and actively look for an agent and publisher.

Finish designing the game I’m developing with my sister Margaret and begin production and marketing.

Research, design and set up a Big Bag Of Dreams week long workshop/playgroup/dreambuilders gathering for a group of women interested in filling up their own bag of dreams to be held during 2011, the summer of my 50th year here in Cornwall, England.

At a glance that list looks a bit scary even to me, especially if you knew what other things are in the planning stages right now regarding big travel and more home renovations. When I feel as if it may all be too big a dream or doubt starts to creep in as doubt often does, I will remind myself of some of the other things I have done that at different points in my life I would have considered impossible.

It’s easy to overlook areas of success when they occur on a smaller level than say publishing a book or winning an Oscar, but when I need an example of a goal I’ve accomplished, I can remember of my first semester of University work where I learned 12 years of math in three months earning a B in a class I had been terrified to take. If I can do that with all my issues around math and numbers than who’s to say I can’t do exactly what I want with the three main goals for my Big Bag Of Dreams project.

Tomorrow as you may have worked out is my birthday. I’ll turn 49 at 2:02 am and John, sweetheart that he is, has something planned that involves packing an overnight bag and is a total surprise for me. I will probably have limited access to my computer for most of the day Thursday and I’m not sure if I’ll post again before the weekend, but I would love for you to consider leaving three special projects, dreams, or goals you have for your life in the comment section below.

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Moorland Adventures

The moor was a wild place to be the other day. Ray and MIJ who you may remember from here came by for an overnight visit and a walk around Bodmin Moor. Most of our summer weather has been unpredictable and their visit here required a bit of wardrobe adjustments. It wasn’t cold once we began our walk, but it certainly felt chilly when we were heading for the door. This should explain the mix of clothing choices you see in a few of the photographs. We dressed for rain and nature didn’t make our efforts in vain. We did have a bit of excitement that Sarah and Suzanne might have enjoyed. I certainly thought of them when we walked up on what looked like a possible problem similar to what has been occurring with other walkers lately.

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We begin our walk and it’s pretty, although a bit wet.

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We stroll along pausing to look at changes to property…

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I take pictures of this….

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and that…

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And when the rain comes as it does here…

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….the cows seem to line up to watch us as we scramble looking for some…

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…of these to shelter us from the rain.

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Here’s where it begins to get interesting, we walk out onto the moor with Rough Tor in the background and we see these cute cows…a mother and baby passing by….awww sweet…right.

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Oh…look, they’re coming over to say hello.

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Hmm…something feels different here and about the same time I’m thinking this may not be just another social call by a curious cow…

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…I look beyond the big mother to her right and I see this…see the bright red in the center of the photo…

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…except to my eyes, it looks more like this….which reminds me of this….

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…making this ….the next thing my camera snaps as I move out of what appears to be the path of a protective mama cow moving her family away from the dogs that are rooming free with the human mother (who clearly hasn’t been following the news) and her children.

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This is the look on her face as I quickly explain that we are passing though and are in no way affiliated with those rowdies with the dogs crashing up behind her.  After a few heated exchanges…okay, so I was really the only one talking…

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…a peaceful solution is reached and they move on without incident all except for this little guy below…

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…who seemed to be watching without comment until I noticed this…

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…he’s decided to have a poo just as I go for a photograph…so I try again and…

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What’s this…now he needs a wee too. Hmm…do you think he’s trying to tell me something?

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Days Of Summer-Going…Going…Gone

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There is a common theme with many bloggers as summer begins to wind down. For those with children returning to school, the end of summer is not based on changes in weather like a sudden crispness in the morning air or the exchange of summer shorts for warm sweaters, but more likely it’s dictated by the posting of bus schedules and shopping for school supplies. Many schools in America have started classes and the rest are not far behind only waiting to begin classes after the Labor Day weekend. Georgia students have been sitting in classrooms for about two weeks now and I can only imagine how difficult it must be for the teachers to manage the energy. Sun and heat still equals summer time to most children and it doesn’t seem fair to send children back inside while the days outside are still so inviting.

With the recent graduation of my only child from Virginia Tech, I no longer gauge my days of summer on any one else’s timetable. Although many of the flowers are beginning to fade here, there are quite a lot still blooming and everywhere you look there is life and color. In Georgia, the blackberries bushes would have closed up shop and ceased production marking the end of summer in a pointed way with only the thorns left behind. Here in Cornwall the blackberries are still fat and juicy with more waiting to ripen before they go for the season. There’s more than enough to freeze a few gallons for winter and make another pie or two, but pie making aside we seem to have missed what makes it feel most like summer.

After years of living in Georgia and suffering through the oppressive summer heat and seasons of drought for the last few years, Cornwall in contrast has had it’s third rainy summer in a row and waking up to another grey day I feel as if in some ways I am still waiting for days of summer to begin. To be fair, this part of the world is a wonderland in rain or with sunshine but occasionally I must admit, I’d be happy to see a bit more of the sun. I’ll leave you with a few summer pictures as we begin slip into fall here and I’ll head out the door to pick a few more blackberries for a last taste of summer before it’s completely past.

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The last three pictures serve as an example of what we do to blackberries around here. Mmmmmmm!

Don’t forget tomorrow is the day for TMAST so please consider writing a post for tomorrow using one of the topic sentences left behind over at the Tell Me A Story Tuesdays site. Send me a link and I’ll post it tomorrow on mine. So far Judy Harper has been the only one to join me in the story writing piece of this online group. Others have left topic sentences and I do appreciate that. It’s more fun for me to use someone else’s sentence so even if you don’t want to write a story for TMAST, please consider leaving a topic sentence here.  It’s practice writing not perfection so let your imagination run wild and see where it takes you.

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If Cows Could Talk

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I spend a fair amount of my time in the company of these great beasts when I’m walking with John on the moor or cutting through a farmers field while out on a run. It never caused me one minute of concern even when they had horns as sharp and pointy as these at least not until I received a comment from Sarah. If you remember, Sarah read this post after searching for information about a coast path walk she was interested in doing in Cornwall. If you scroll down to the last comment on that post, (from Sarah C-S) you can see the comment that marked the beginning of our friendship.

After a series of emails back and forth, along with this post designed to talk more about potential safety issues on the coast path, we arranged a meeting. Being able to meet people in person that you enjoy talking with is one of the best benefits of blogging.  Sarah who lives north of London, came down to camp near here with her sister Suzanne who is so funny she really should consider doing standup comedy. Between the two of them I laughed and smiled so much my jaw actually felt a bit sore by the end of our visit. I spent a delightful afternoon acting as tour guide showing them the area around the village where we live. I took them around to some of my favorite places..we even posed for a picture on a footbridge you may recognize. It’s one where several pictures of both me and John have been taken near the buttercup field.

It’s been about a month or so since they were here and I have to say that whenever I see a cow or bullock that might look as if they’re sizing me up, I think of Sarah and remember that occasionally these gentle animals may charge and trample people passing through their space.  As I said before, it’s usually when a walker has a dog with them that is not on a leash (or lead) and the cows are really after the dog.

Still, I’m not sure Sarah would like to know that whenever I see a cow now, I think of her. It’s kind of funny, but I do appreciate the increased awareness and so far the only direction the cows seem to be running is …away.

"Look Out Bessie, Here Comes That Woman Again."

"Look Out Bessie, Here Comes That Woman Again."

" Shush...Just Pretend You Don't See Her."

" Shush...Just Pretend You Don't See Her."

" Oh Good Grief...Is She Following Us Now!"

" Oh Good Grief...Is She Following Us Now!"

Here is a picture of us near the buttercup field.

Suzanne, Sarah, & Elizabeth

Suzanne, Sarah, & Elizabeth

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A Room Of One’s Own – Week 2 – Update

Last week I introduced you to the work being done in the back garden. Since John first surprised me with the idea of a room of my own, I’ve imagined all the places I could place my desk and what my view might be while writing. I’ve gone back and forth thinking… should I position it so I’d be looking at the wall or would an outside view be better for my creative process. I’m still trying to decide what would be less distracting and better for my work.

Watching Brian and Bob our builders work over the last few weeks has been a lesson in not letting distractions get in the way. They’ve worked steadily through a heat wave while breaking up the concrete for new the plumbing. It looked like tough work making a space beneath the walkway and along the side of the house. They spent the better part of a week digging deep into the backyard (garden) through three or four feet of dirt and rock to lay more pipes for the new bathrooms and making way for the foundation. Recently Brian and Bob have had to work around the rain with enough stops and starts to aggravate even the most patient soul. We’ve had a wet week or two lately and they never seem put off by it.  All along they’ve moved at a pace that John said was faster than he’d imagined possible and we don’t think it will be too long before we see the roof going on.

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Walking The Coast Path With Cows And Caution-No Bullies Allowed

The title for this post takes its name in part from an email I received from a coast path walker who found my blog through some of my previous posts about walking the Cornish coast path. I hope she won’t mind my ” borrowing” a part of her email subject heading for my post today.

Yesterday John and I headed out to find a bit of adventure along with some fresh air and exercise. I’ve been doing a lot of computer work lately (editing wedding pictures) and the weather was too nice to stay inside. Additionally, even though I’ve been back since May 25, it was our first walk along the coast since I’d gone back to America in late April. John suggested a short walk from Port Quin to Port Isaac both of which are about ten miles from where we live. After packing up a P B & J for me and some fruit for him…we were off. 

It was beautiful as it always is and I promise I’ll include a few pictures near the water, but my main reason for this post is to have a little talk about the cows and bullocks we encountered so walk with me now….

 

Sometimes on our walks we have to walk through fields that are already occupied.

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Me saying hello…this one was quite happy to let me touch him on the nose before moving along with his buddies.

The question came up from one of my readers as to the safety in crossing though these places where the public footpath herds (sorry, I couldn’t help myself) you right in with the big animals.  I told her I’d never encountered any problems and then she recounted how she and her family had a bunch of cows come charging across the field startling her, her husband, and their children. In the past I naively thought cows and bullocks were just happy to see me whenever I saw a herd of them shift direction and move in mass at a clip towards me.

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John said if they ever look scary to just say boo and throw your arms out at them.  He demonstrated this technique below without warning me so you can’t see the hand motions. ( I missed it)

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A couple of guys trying to look tough…”Whadaya mean you want to pass through us?”

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John approaching the bad boy brothers just moments before saying BOO!

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After they’d scattered …giving him some sulky looks.

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This one did not look amused either.

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This brown one was pretty interested in me however… deciding that I might be worth investigating further.

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Right!  Now I’m usually okay with a nudge but I think I really must draw the line when it comes to taste testing.  John was getting his camera out here while I was trying to capture this beastie licking my arm.

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For the record…cow tongues are rough, slimy and strong.  

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All joking aside, when I mentioned to John what my reader Sarah had said in an email to me about cows and safety on the path he said…people are usually quite safe and that cows are more curious as you can see above than dangerous. He did go on to say that they will get angry when dogs are around especially if they have calves with them.  An incident was in the news here recently that illustrated this when David Blunkett, a prominent politician in the UK who is blind was out walking with his guide dog and was trampled by a cow who was trying to get to the dog. So I’d say caution is key when passing by these gentle seeming two ton Toms and Tessies. ( Okay maybe one ton not two, but it worked better).

Wrapping up the walk from yesterday…as I was taking this picture.

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John was climbing up and over here.

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Then while I was trying to get a decent closeup of these drying flower heads below….

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John slipped back and stuck his head through a gap in the wall and began to make woo woo scary moaning sounds as I approached the fence and started to climb over.  Going back I saw this….

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On  the other side…you can actually walk down to the water…no one’s stopping you.

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Back on the path

Port Isaac

Port Isaac from above.   We had a little pub stop for a pint and a coffee and walked back to Port Quin totally ignored by the cows who’d lost all interest in us by late afternoon.  

NEXT TIME: Celebrity spotting in Cornwall.

I’ll be back with my experience with celebrity spotting yesterday in the supermarket. We were actually side by side scanning the parking lot for our cars after stepping out of the store at the same time. 

Here’s a hint…there’s a TV show that uses Port Isaac as its location, but with a name change. The man I almost  bumped  into is a regular character on the show although not the male lead. He’s associated with a trade profession in the show…anybody want to venture a guess?

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Packing It Tighter Than OctoMom’s Uterus

DSCN4506As most of you who’ve been following my blog lately are aware, I’ve just completed the enormous task of downsizing 48 years of my physical life into a box measuring 200 cubic feet for shipping to England where I now live with my husband John. As you might imagine, 200 cubic feet is not a lot of space especially for a woman with a tendency to place value on the memory of a day or event and hold on to whatever object heightens the memory. Thank goodness my daughter Miranda was willing to take on some of the things that were too difficult to part with over the last few weeks.

I was fortunate to find a home for most of my furniture and big things last May when I came to England for my first long stretch. What I left behind in storage seemed in my mind to be a smaller amount to sort through than it turned out to be after I saw it all again. I wrote here about what it looked like when I began the weeding out process and below you’ll find a couple of pictures before I condensed it to a more manageable group of boxes.

 

Group One Of Boxes

Group One Of Boxes

Group Two Of Boxes

Group Two Of Boxes

As you can see, I had stuff in two places…one a basement room and one in the garage of my step-mom’s home.  She was so gracious about it all. As hard as I tried to keep it all contained to a few places, there were times when it spilled over briefly into other areas as I went through it.  Everything you see is the before image. All of these boxes had to be opened and sorted and repacked. I went through everything creating piles to re-box and take with me or packing them up to give to Miranda. What was left went into a section for my garage sale which netted enough to pay about half the cost of shipping my stuff over.

 

Day Two Of Sale

Day Two Of Sale

I had some telling signs up for my garage sale and between my Craigslist posting and a few signs, I did little else to alert the world that there was good stuff to be had out in Marietta. I did blog about it and three of my blogging buddies showed up  to say hello and help finance my move….thanks to Jules, Leslye and Taylor  along with some long time friends, Patrice and Scott. Additionally, two old boyfriends that I’m still friendly with from 25 and 30 years ago stopped by to say hello.  It was good to see each of them and I was pleased to see some things that were special to me go to people I know. Taylor bought a birdcage that I loved and I can’t wait to see what cool photographs she creates with it. You can see her first image of it if you go here.

A few more shots of stuff no longer mine from the sale…

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By the time the movers came to box up the breakables, I had packed the rest of it. I could pack the non-fragile items, but had to leave the boxes open for the movers to note before sealing. Here are a few images from that day.

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I shipped loads of art over as well as a chair that looks like the female version of one John has. I’ll post them side by side when it arrives.

Below are some of my boxes repacked and stacked to mimic the dimensions of the storage crate.

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The wooden crate you see above is what ALL of my stuff went into.  You’re going to see why I chose the title I did for this post in a minute.

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These men from Atlantic Relocation Systems did an excellent job packing the breakables up and numbering everything. They have a history of working with Rainier, the company I contacted to do the international move and everyone from Doug Wiviott at Rainier to Mike Orlin with Atlantic Relocation Systems and all of the guys who did the hard work of packing it up have been great to work with. I’ll update you in 45-65 days when my crate arrives as to the condition of things, but it’s been good experience so far.

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Remember what I said about OctoMom’s uterus….well….it wasn’t eight babies, but it was pretty tight!

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Going

Going

 

Going

Going

 

Gone!

Gone!

The next time you see the crate will be when we’re unloading it here in Cornwall. I wonder if it will seem strange to see my things in this setting. I have to say that as they were putting the very last thing into the crate, I got a little teary. The last two things were a large framed photograph of Miranda as a barely walking toddler sitting in my grandmother’s wicker rocking chair and the last minute addition of sewing box given to me many years ago by my Aunt Wylly, the children’s book author. There was something about seeing that old sewing box slip into a little opening to make the journey that caused me to feel something other than relief and exhaustion. I think it was the thought of Aunt Wylly and her sense of adventure that affected me in the moment. She was such a special woman and an inspiration to me in many ways…thinking of her and knowing how she lived her life…I think she’d approve of this new love and life in Blisland .

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More Than Just A Wave

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Ry Saying Goodbye

When babies are learning to talk, one of the very first things they learn is how to say bye-bye. Along with a which they usually pick up the importance of tossing in a bit of hand waving as well.  Like all new (dog) mommies, my daughter Miranda has been teaching Ry to do a bit more than just sit around looking pretty. While I was back in America recently, she proudly had Ry demonstrate some of his newly acquired skills. He’s a smart pup and when there’s food involved can pick up new things faster than some of the folks who descended on my garage sale two weeks ago.

I think his little wave was one of the cutest things she taught him, although I have to say I loved his exuberant high five as well.  He jumps up to go paw to hand when she says, “High five” and you almost expect him to say, “Aw right ” along with it.

It’s been a busy four weeks since I went home to Georgia to sort, sell, and ship my stuff over to England. As you might expect, I have more than a few stories for you. Back at home in Cornwall now with John, it’s a blue sky morning and I’m getting ready to go for my first run in a month with Tina, my running buddy and friend. We’re meeting like we always do on the the village green at 9:00 and I’ll be a second or two late as I usually am, because I just have to write one more word before I go. She’ll be there on time and waiting and will swoosh away my apologies with a wave of her hand…understanding and happy just to say hello again.  

 

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Diversions And Updates

dscf4319I’m still waist deep in boxes and sorting as I decide what will move to England with me. The shippers come a week from Monday and I’m working steadily to go through everything and repack the non-breakables. (the shippers have to pack the fragile stuff)

I’m having a huge, mammoth yard sale on the 15 th & 16 th so I have a good deadline for getting it all done before sending what’s left off on the 18th. In addition to the stress of completing such a task, I find myself getting terribly maudlin at times seeing so much of my past spreading out before me. 

Late at night or in moments when I grab a bite of food, I slip to my computer to do a fast catch up on the blogs I read. Those of you who pop by mine should know how much a quick look at your words and images shakes me out of the past and reminds me of the life I have in the present.  It’s a big help to me right now. 

Today over a breakfast bagel and my third cup of coffee, I took a look at a favorite blogger that I follow. Rima, over at The Hermitage, lives a life most of us couldn’t dream of and her lovely space is alway a delight. The post I read today reminds me of Cornwall and John and what waits for me on my return. Please take a minute to go by and read her post, What I Saw By The Wayside.  While you’re there, take a good look around her site…she’s a wonderful artist and paints the most amazing scenes on the clocks that she makes.  

Have a great weekend and I be back in a bit…once I get through all of this mess.

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Breaking Up

Children all over England are running free for the next two weeks as schools broke up for the Easter holiday on Friday. Two things stand out for me as being different from what I’m used to in America…Easter holiday and breaking up. I think in America you only hear the term Spring Break being used to denote the time period when children get a week off from school rather than Easter break. While it would not be considered politically correct to use the term Easter break in America, using Easter and Christmas to denote a school break in England is still the norm.

The children here have an interesting schedule that varies a bit from what my daughter went through in the American school system. The schedule in England has a more liberal time off period during the school year, but a shorter break for summer. American children are out for roughly 11 weeks in summer while 6 weeks is typical here. English schools start later in September and break up for summer around July 20, but they’re off for 7 weeks at various points during the school year plus 4 additional days referred to as Bank holidays. American children have 4 weeks off with a few miscellaneous days thrown in such as MLK’s birthday along with a few others.

The size of the schools vary as well. The village school here has 20 students and  3 teachers along with 1 teaching assistant. It’s a primary school and accepts children ages 4-11.  Surprisingly even though it’s reminiscent of rural schools that don’t exist anymore in most places in America, there is a computer for every child and musical instruments of various kinds as well.  It’s set in the sweetest location and the children seem very happy and well connected despite the mix of ages. The older children help the younger ones in ways you wouldn’t see in larger schools in America where the grades are separated and the different classes tend to stay within their own age group. Here in our village school, the oldest child has a chance to be a leader and guide to the younger children and it seems to work very well.

I had a chance yesterday to snap a few photographs at the School Fete where teachers, parents and students along with some community members gathered together sell home baked goods, plants, and toys, to raise money for school trips and extras. Even though I don’t have a child in the school, I have an interest through my friend and running partner Tina, who has twin daughters who attend there. I sent some cookies I made (Bear Scat, a recipe I picked up on my recent trip to Alaska) along for the sale and John and I purchased a couple of chances on the duck race that capped the days fun. The school has a bridge right next to it with a lovely bit of water that the ducks were released into a bit further upstream. The children along parents and grandparents stood on the bridge cheering as the ducks floated down with different numbers written on their backsides in waterproof ink.  It was a wonderful bit of fun for the children on their last day before breaking up for Easter break.  The Head teacher, Mr. Ratcliffe along with two other teachers, Mrs. Webber and Mr. Knibbs got into the spirit of things by dressing in costume for the big scoop out. They did a great job chasing down the little yellow ducks that most of us would associate more with a hot bath rather than a cool river run.

I scooted down to the waters edge and stretched out on a big rock to capture a few memories of Duck Race 2009.

 

Mr. Ratcliffe (Center In Chicken Suit)

Mr. Ratcliffe (Center In Chicken Suit)

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(L to R) Mr. Knibb, Mrs. Webber, and Head teacher, Mr. Ratcliffe

The Newspaper Photographer Getting Her Shot

The Newspaper Photographer Getting Her Shot

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 Mrs. Webber Breaks The Net

Mrs. Webber Breaks The Net

 

Ready, Set, Go!

Ready, Set, Go!

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The Big Scoop

 

The One That Got  Away

The One That Got Away