Fig A.
Dear Mom,
My goodness, I haven't written in a while because we've been gone all week touring the lake district and the north of England. It changed my life. Seriously! It was absolutely amazing. This trip was pretty much all the reasons I decided to come to England in one blow: to go to the places writers lived and saw, to see the places imagined in my favorite books, and to drown in the history and culture--past and present--of England. And I wasn't disappointed! I learned all I wanted to, felt powerful feelings I'd merely hoped for, and it was just . . . amazing.
Disclaimer: This email is EXTREMELY long, and almost takes the form of a journal entry. If you get bored, just skim it and nod and smile. :)
Monday, we left early and went to Haworth, to visit the Bronte parsonage (where Emily, Charlotte and Anne Bronte lived and wrote their novels). (see Fig A) It was incredible to feel that, and to realize where they were and what kinds of inspirations drove their art. I cried when we left, it was so powerful--I didn't want to leave! It was heart-wrenching to go to these places I've dreamed of so long, and then be ripped along to see the next big site. That day we also went to York (old York, not New York) and saw York Minster, which was yet another huge and beautiful cathedral similar to Canterbury in age and design. I saw Evensong there, with one of the most beautiful choirs I've ever heard--it was mostly children, but there were enough mature voices to give it body. With those beautiful acoustics? It was dazzling, and gave me chills.
The next day we went to Fountains Abbey--an old ruined medieval monastery. It was SO beautiful! Picture a grand cathedral, but picture it . . . with no roof. The walls crumbling and dripping with moss. The floor covered in soft green grass, and birds roosting in its tower. I couldn't help but be reminded of God's great glory and strength in comparison to the ephemeral might of man. It was so beautiful! And it was also interesting to see the floorplan without all the distracting ornamentation. To see how they worshiped, and in what rooms and structures it would have taken place. It was really interesting.
Later that day we checked into another youth hostel with a remarkable view. Photographs cheapen it--they can't possibly express the sharp beauty and wonder of that softly rolling scene. Everyone else hopped back on the bus to wander about the little town of Windermere. I stayed behind, and went on a long walk by myself through the British countryside. There are walls EVERYWHERE there, for livestock, and some have been there hundreds of years. They're designed to cage in livestock, and they still complete their purpose--there are sheep and cows everywhere. A real dry stone wall doesn't have mortar at all. Did you know that? No mortar--just rocks stacked up on top of one another, and it lasts hundreds of years. They were so beautiful, criss-crossing the landscape like that. Oh, and mysterious archways on the sides of the road, with staircases leading up to secret glades . . . I'm pretty sure I did a bit of mild trespassing, but I didn't have the huge group with me, so it was forgivable, if not exactly sanctioned. I wandered down a tire-track road until it ended at a gate, and there I tried to describe the sight. It was dazzling, Mom. Simply beautiful--you would have loved it, I know. I also climbed to the top of an ancient, moss-covered tree, which was great fun. On my way back, I picked and ate a couple of wild blackberries. THIS is the sort of thing I daydreamed of doing when I wished to come to England!
The next morning, I rose and went to the balcony by myself to gaze across the misty morning landscape and compose a couple of poems. Does that not sound just like me? Oh, dear. I'm such an awful romantic.
Wednesday (that day) we went to Dove Cottage in the Lake District. That's where William Wordsworth wrote some of his very most famous poetry! It was amazing to see the location that inspired some of the most beautiful words in the English language. It stirred my heart, and I felt so very alive! Determined to read more poetry, more Bronte . . . to take me back to that place that I instantly fell in love with. I forgot to mention that we stopped in a little town called Pateley Bridge for lunch on our way to the hostel that day. Picture a charming British village, with stone houses, pastry shops, hanging bunches of flowers everywhere. With friendly people, whose accents make your ears ring a little in a delightful way. THAT is the town of Pateley Bridge. it's just like I'd always imagined one of those cute little towns would be. Except better. Oh, Mommy--this trip really is a dream come true for me. Can you tell?
After Dove Cottage, we drove through the lake district for a couple of hours. I wish I hadn't been mildly carsick, because the views were dazzling, and none of my photographs come close to how beautiful it was. Then we went to Hilltop Farm, where Beatrix Potter lived after becoming famous from her books. No wonder she so desperately wanted to save that land! It was so lovely there. The gardens of her home were beautiful, and the hills were so green, and picturesque, with their grazing sheep. After crossing on the ferry again, we ambled around the town of Ambleside, and hung out at our youth hostel that evening. It was RIGHT on the shore of lake Windermere--I dunked my toes in the water that night, while I gazed at the stars from the pier. The constant cover of fluffy gray clouds vanished for a while, and I got a clear view of the stars--the big dipper, the milky way, even. Fluffy clouds during the day, clear for stars at night? Ah. Life was complete.
On Thursday we toured the city of Preston for various church history sites (that's where Heber C. Kimball and Orson Pratt and them first came and converted people to the gospel.) It was neat. We also went driving around the Ribble River valley, to Ribchester, Chatburn and Downham, for other church history sites. Then Chorley, to see the temple. It's difficult to describe how seeing the temple made me feel. Since I've been here, I have had the chance to see many glorious religious structures--a sikh gurdwara, hindu mandir, a cathedral, a minster, a beautiful greek orthodox chapel, and a ruined abbey. All of them were completely beautiful and took my breath away, leaving me with a feeling of awe.
NONE of those, and I'll repeat: NONE of those even came close to the feeling of standing in front of the Preston temple. The feeling emanating from within that simple stone structure was one of peace. Of home. And most importantly? Of my Father in Heaven's love for me. It was an incredible experience, and I learned a lot from it.
The next morning we were in Liverpool, and I went to the Beatles museum, which was awesome--Beatle origins! I love the Beatles. And now I can tell the difference between John Lennon and Paul McCartney, at least. :)
Later that day, we went to Chatsworth, which is the big house where they filmed Pemberly in the Keira Knightley version of Pride and Prejudice. Can you even imagine my raptures? That's my favorite book in the world! It was so pretty! But such a rich, sumptuous home. I'm pretty sure I would get tired of it. I'd infinitely prefer a little rose-covered cottage somewhere.
I miss you, as always.
Love,
Mary-Celeste
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