Thank You for being my Friend

In March, I will celebrate my third anniversary in the blogosphere.  Making the acquaintance of numerous fellow bloggers through this forum has been a joy and a privilege.  When I commenced this adventure, I could not have dreamed that I would come to call so many of you friends, despite the fact we have never been face to face.  I dedicate this post to all of you, and I am thrilled to link up with my favorite memes, too.  Here's to friendship!  






What has occupied your time in January?  Following the holidays, my normal routines have resumed.  Tasty breakfasts prepared by Head Chef.  

Drawing.  I was inspired to create this picture following our pastor's sermon about the Epiphany.  My personal epiphany from it: Go a Different Way!

Enjoying time with Dear Neighbor Friend, whether it is cross-country skiing, feeding birds or simply walking.

Left: Mountain lion tracks                 Right: Mountain chickadee

Snuggling on the couch with Maggie the cat as my heating blanket.










Hosting Munch and Make for my crafty buddies.  

Upper left: crochet headband  Upper middle/right: stuffed nose for gnome

Lower left: hand-colored card        Lower right: Culinary delights from Head Chef

I was delighted to receive this hand-made gift from one of the craft group.  The base is a slice of a tree with a hanger on the back.  The peacock feathers, pine cones and other décor are glued to the base.  As a final touch, the twine holds four clothes' pins, suitable for displaying photos or recipe cards or any number of other curios.  Isn't she talented?  

Walking in the winter wonderland of our back forty.  

A little reading at night.  Dear Neighbor Friend loaned me this book, and I adored it.  True stories documented by Donald Davis, Cripple Joe reminded me of my own father and my childhood.  The picture on the cover even resembles my Dad!  Does anybody remember the candy Nik L Nips wax bottles?  I hadn't thought about them for decades until they appeared in one of Mr. Davis' stories.  I was especially struck to read about Stayman Winesaps.  Although you won't find a Winesap in stores or at most farmer's markets, my Dad grew them in our orchard, so I was thrilled to see them mentioned.  I highly recommend this book! 



And sometimes, the month brings surprises, such as this bright bouquet from Spousal Unit.

Head on over to these memes and see what other delights might be in store!

Floral Friday Fotos

Friday Bliss

I Like Thursday
My Corner of the World
Nature Notes
Saturday's Critters
Skywatch Friday
Thankful Thursday
Wandering Camera

Willy Nilly Friday

MM #64: Kiplin Hall, Back from the Brink

View of Kiplin Hall on October 28, 2019

How long have I been in love with historic homes in the UK?  At least 30 years!

These homes, preserved for our education, wonder and enjoyment, share numerous common elements.  Walled gardens, sweeping lawns, ancient families, period furniture, and, of course, a striking home.  But each one has a unique tale, and inevitably, intriguing idiosyncrasies.  Welcome to the story of Kiplin Hall!

Built in the early 1620's, it was owned by four fascinating families related by blood and marriage.

The beginning: in the 13th century, Kiplin became part of the landholding of Easby Abbey, a monastery five miles to the west.  (Yes, you have read about Easby on my blog - see this post.  Small country, small world.)  After the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, the land was purchased by the Calvert family.  George Calvert was born there in 1859 and built the Hall between 1622 - 1625.

Scores of flowers despite our visit in late October!

In the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods, a gentleman's house was a visible symbol of his status.  George Calvert built a tall, symmetrical red-brick house, using fashionable design features such as the diamond-shaped diapering pattern in blue-black bricks on the east front.  Many contemporary houses had corner towers with leaded domes; Kiplin was unique in placing the towers in the center of each façade.

Ironically, George Calvert and his descendants never lived in the house.  George was instrumental in establishing the colony of Maryland in the US, and his descendants lived there or in the south of England.  In 1722, Charles Calvert sold the Hall and its 800 acres to his mother's second husband, Christopher Crowe.

The first owners to live in the Hall, the Crowe family increased the estate to 4,500 acres.  To make the Hall more fashionable and comfortable, Christopher Crowe added the central staircase, Georgian fireplaces, and decorative plasterwork.  The estate passed to Christopher Crowe's nephew, Robert, in 1782.  When Robert's daughter Sarah inherited Kiplin in 1818, the estate passed through marriage to the Carpenter family.

Ceiling in the dining room

Sarah and her husband John Carpenter continued to improve and enlarge both the estate and the home.  The symmetry of the original building was further altered in the 1820s, when they built a Gothic style Drawing Room to the south.  Lady Sarah also developed the pleasure gardens, creating paths through the woods and the walled gardens.

In 1868, Kiplin passed to a cousin, Walter Cecil Talbot, on the condition that he change his name to Carpenter.  He rose to Admiral in the Royal Navy, and made many enhancements to the estate buildings and gardens.  Countless items in the house were collected, commissioned or made by the Carpenters.  Family scrapbooks and photo albums compiled between 1860 and 1904 give a wonderful picture of the country house lifestyle of the period.  The death of the Admiral in 1904 marked the end of an era.

This mahogany cabinet was designed by Chippendale and was

commissioned to house the decorative panels of pietra dura.

Pietra dura means hard stone, and the charming scenes of the

Italian countryside are made of marble and other colored stones.

Miss Bridget Talbot

Kiplin began its decline as a country house when Sarah Talbot Carpenter married and moved away.  Between 1905 and 1930, Sarah sold off most of the estate until only the Hall, a few outbuildings and 120 acres remained.  In 1938, Sarah made her cousin, Bridget Talbot, joint owner of Kiplin.  Bridget lived a varied and adventurous life, including serving the Red Cross on the Italian front line during the First World War, which earned her an Italian Medal of Honor and an OBE.  In a major campaign in the 1920s and 1930s to save the lives of Merchant Seamen, Bridget invented a waterproof torch for lifebelts that became a standard part of safety equipment.

During the Second World War, Kiplin Hall was requisitioned by the Army and later turned into flats for Royal Air Force officers.  (This room in the house has been left as is to show how it looked at that time, with modifications to bedrooms in order to create flats.) There was considerable damage and little hope of compensation.  Nevertheless, Bridget worked tirelessly to save Kiplin.

Left: "Bugingham Palace" - Get it?!?         Right: Conkers, also known as Horse Chestnuts

From the 1940s to the 1960s, Bridget struggled to ensure Kiplin's survival.  She approached many organizations and negotiated with the National Trust for years.  On several occasions she announced her decision to demolish the increasingly derelict Hall, but she never did.  Finally, in 1968, Bridget established the Kiplin Hall Trust.

Following Bridget's death in 1971, the trustees endeavored to maintain the Hall.  Financial assistance from Maryland in the 1970s and 1980s carried the house until its future was finally secured in the 1990s.  Income produced from quarrying gravel in the parkland was sufficient to put the trust on a firm footing, and also created an attractive lake.  Major restoration work since 1998 has brought Kiplin back to life as a welcoming Victorian country house.  Bridget, your hard work paid off - you can rest easy now!

Mosaic Monday

Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.

Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.
The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Monday (U.S. Mountain time).
Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog.
Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back.
As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by.
Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully.
Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us. 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Mosaic Monday #63: Don't go with the glaciers

In last week’s post, I wrote about my chosen responses for troubling world events: prayer and sticking my head in the sand.   I am sure most of my readers recognized the ostrich reference as somewhat tongue in cheek, since I am not one to sit idly by when something needs to be fixed.  (It also made for a handy writing technique to segue into our Hamburg trip.)

But even I can get depressed and discouraged every now and then, so it got me thinking about the root of my recent discontent.  And more importantly, how to improve my mood.  As a wise Spousal Unit said to me, this is not my typical post, but if I am feeling this way, maybe writing about it can help someone else.  So here goes.

I believe the source of my displeasure is a mismatch between expectation and reality.  I expect the world to be safe for humans, animals and plants, and all too often it is not.  I want a certain amount of green space to be preserved for animal habitat and human recreation, and yet those spaces are disappearing quickly.  I expect to be respected when I am trying to do the right thing, and recently I have experienced pushback.

So, what are my choices?  I can lower my expectations.  I found the above quote, and initially it made me feel better.  Upon further reflection, I think it is an appropriate quote for holidays or other special events, when our expectations are often so high that we are bound to be dissatisfied.  But to apply it to our planet – hmmm.  I don’t think I am ready to accept things “as they are”.

I can alter reality by taking action.  I am already involved in an initiative designed to reduce carbon emissions through increased investment in renewable forms of electricity, and today Spousal Unit and I agreed we should research the parcels that might be for sale as a result of the Weyerhaeuser deal.  As someone recently pointed out to me, it's difficult to live in the wilderness unless you own the wilderness.  It's also difficult to protect the wilderness unless someone who cares owns the wilderness.

I can ensure that I have the facts, rather than making assumptions.  In the process of gathering signatures for the initiative that I mentioned above, I was challenged by a city official on a public sidewalk.   I was equal parts frustrated and discouraged.  Suffice it to say that I was tempted to categorize City Hall as the bad guy, make assumptions about their intentions, and ignore their request that I obtain a permit.  Instead, I have made an appointment with the city manager on Wednesday, and I am confident that we can find a middle ground.

I can ensure that my picture of reality is balanced.  A) From our little corner of the world, it is easy to fall into “woe is me”.  But I am absolutely certain that there is always someone out there that has it worse than me.  That is not to say that I am rejoicing that someone is worse off, but gaining a broader perspective does help to pull me up.  And then I will be more disposed to help those in need.    B) “Bad news” is everywhere, and it can lead us to believe that all news is bad.  But I have only to look at the posts of my fellow bloggers to know that is not true.  People crafting pouches for the joeys and other animals stranded by the Australian wildfires.  Bloggers who bring the devastation of plastic to the forefront, with concrete suggestions on what we can do as individuals to have an impact.  Friends who point us to alternative sources of news, such as Global Goodness – thank you Maria of Under my umbrella.  Her link prompted me to seek out other forums, and I located the Good News Network.

And if all that fails, I still have hope.  Good old Google provides this definition of hope:  “a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen”.  Well, you can see how this becomes a bit circular.  I hope.  My expectations are not met and I lose hope.  So I dug deeper.

How interesting that Google provides a second definition for hope, which is noted as “archaic” – in other words, very old, or old-fashioned.  That definition?  “A feeling of trust”.  I don’t know about you, but I sense that people are losing trust in some of our most basic institutions, from news outlets to churches to governments.  If that fabric continues to fray, it will be hard to get anything accomplished.  

So I call on all of us to do what we can, and to trust that good things will result.  Who knows, Google's dictionary may restore trust as a modern definition of hope, rather than consider it as a concept whose days are disappearing with the glaciers.

Mosaic Monday

Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.
Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.
The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Monday (U.S. Mountain time).
Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog.
Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back.
As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by.
Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully.
Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us. 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Mosaic Monday #62: Hamburg, Part III

The peace of the holidays is rapidly dissipating.  Wildfires in Australia.  Tension between the US and Iran.  And closer to home, the sale of 630,000 acres of Montana timber land by Weyerhaeuser to Southern Pine Plantations, a Georgia-based brokerage and investment firm.  Rumors abound that treasured public access to recreation areas will evaporate as smaller parcels are sold to developers. 

While I am not one to panic, it is enough to bring on a general sense of unease.  In response, I pray.  And then I look for escape.  Akin to the proverbial ostrich, I stick my head in the sand of happier, carefree days.  So let us return to October 2019, and our trip to Hamburg, Germany.  As I wrote in my previous two posts, a city of romance, and of hopes and dreams.

Our tour of inspiring churches resumed with the Russian Orthodox Gnadenkirche ('church of mercy').  The round church was built in 1907 and for almost a century served as an Evangelic Lutheran house of God. As the number of churchgoers petered out, in 2004 the church was acquired by the parish of Saint John of Kronstadt.  After extensive renovations to suit its new congregation, the church now possesses captivating frescoes and intricate iconostasis crafted by Moscow's premier icon painters.

Iconostasis - a screen bearing icons, separating the

sanctuary from the nave

Our admiration continued, albeit in a more natural setting. Planten un Blomen ('plants and flowers') is a 116-acre urban park, famous for its water-light concerts, public theater and music performances.  It is easy to imagine summer-time, with families strolling wide pathways, and couples relishing a picnic while lounging on a blanket near one of the numerous water features.  This day, light rain spattered the ponds and gravel paths, leaving the park to a handful of visitors braving the weather.  Readers, you know my adoration for any garden, so you will believe me when I write that my enthusiasm was not dampened by a pinch of precipitation.

By evening, the walking tour resulted in a voracious appetite.  Once again, Dr. H hit the mark with a reservation at La Creperie Bretonne de Hambourg.  As you might surmise from the name, this restaurant serves only crepes and galettes, but I challenge you to peruse the menu without finding at least three dishes you would like to sample.  And then you have a decision to make about a dessert crepe!  Ooh la la!  

Staff were dressed in traditional French garb (think white and blue striped seaman shirts) and speaking French!

Stuffed full of crepes, I was ready for fresh air and a promenade to our next destination, the Elphi.  On our first day in town, we viewed the Elphi from a distance, but Dr. H promised that a night-time visit has a magic all its own.  As we approached the Philharmonic Hall, its dazzling blue and white lights pulled us forward like bees to honey.  We were bewitched by the escalator, which curves over its 270-foot length as you ascend to the Plaza level.

A stroke of marketing genius,  the Plaza permits access without concert tickets - thousands of visitors cop an up-close view of the building's architecture, undoubtedly resolving on the spot to attend the next available performance.  And then, there is the panoramic vista of the harbor - everywhere you look, people lean on the railings, taking in the ships outlined by strings of lights, with Hamburg's skyline beyond.  Who can resist a romantic picture for two?

The night was still young when we crossed town to the Reeperbahn, Hamburg's legendary nightlife mile.  Its reputation as the red-light district jangled a few of my nerves, but I rested easy in the trustworthy hands of Dr. H.  Although the area offers "adult services" of every type, most are not obvious and many are on side streets.  In the end, the Reeperbahn reminded me of the music scene in Nashville, the neon of Las Vegas and a US-style Spring Break, rolled into one.  Dr. H took us to two of her favorite bars, and we danced our little feet off.  Before we boarded the train to head to her apartment, I was tickled to see a bar with my name.  Who knew?

The next day saw a late start (“old” people need their sleep), and it was mid-morning when the train swept us to Blankenese, on the western outskirts of Hamburg. Blankenese is a wealthy residential district known for its half-timbered fishermen’s houses and pre-war villas, many of which line the winding stairs of the Treppenviertel (German for “staircase quarter”) neighborhood.  I was fascinated by the contrast of traditional homes cheek to cheek with ultra-modern construction.  Just a guess – being fit is a requirement to live here; I read a statistic that the average mail carrier in this village covers 5,000 steps and 300 feet of elevation each day.

The rain had picked up again by the time we chose a lunch spot, but that did not deter us from outside dining.  As I reported in an earlier post, many restaurants provide heaters, blankets and even awnings to protect customers from the elements.  That said, my pumpkin soup was a warm welcome.

The restaurant offered a ring-side seat to the harbor action, as container ships were loaded by sky-high cranes.  Impossibly large cruise ships squeezed past the commercial operators, their captains somehow keeping them within the deepest parts of the channel.  Soon enough, we joined the fray on the ferry that transported us back to Hamburg. 

Although we were still satisfied from our lunch, Dr. H convinced us (it wasn’t too difficult) that we must try the fischbrochten at her favorite harbor-side shop.  We gazed into the glass case to select among these sandwiches, made with fish and complemented by one or more of the following: onions, pickles, remoulade, creamy horseradish sauce, ketchup or cocktail sauce.  Spousal Unit was in his element, recalling the salty, fresh fish of his youth.  (Of course, the souvenir emporiums beckoned and we documented our stay in Hamburg with his and hers t-shirts, and a shot glass for his bar.)

Too soon, it was our last day, and Dr. H laid a fine breakfast table before she returned to work.  We ran 6 miles (gotta do something to work off those calories) and finished our packing in time to head for the train to the airport.  We felt like locals when we grumbled about waiting FOUR MINUTES!

Mosaic Monday

Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.
Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.
The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Monday (U.S. Mountain time).
Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog.
Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back.
As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by.
Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully.
Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us. 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter