Many things I have thus far experienced during my stay in England have surprised me by the sensations they've produced. I have had many pictures in my head of British culture, and what I have thought it would be like. Every one of those pictures has been so far accurate, and the country walk is no exception. I've always imagined British countryside to be wet, green, flowered, charming, and most of all? Romantic. That, it was.
I stayed for the second half of the walk, which ended up being quite exciting. I wasn't quite smart enough to get my umbrella out for the first part of the rain. Perhaps I thought it would stop, but I think it's more likely that I was just enjoying feeling tragically romantic, like Maryanne in Sense and Sensibility, who wandered the English countryside in the rain and broke her ankle, then had handsome Willoughby ride up on a noble steed to save her. Good news: I didn't break my ankle. Bad news: No dashing young man showed up. Then I reminded myself that Willoughby really didn't end up being a particularly great fellow and I felt a little better, but it was a poor consolation when I couldn't feel my soggy toes.
Eynsford castle was really cool—I love looking at ruins. I crawled over all the walls and read all the plaques. It was a lot of fun. My favorite ruins are those that seem the very least touched by anxious renovators. There was an old spiral staircase with the steps entirely worn off, and that was neat. The very best part, though, was climbing up the wall and sitting in an ancient window. That was fun, but I started making Dr. Soper nervous, so I climbed back down. There are no crazy boys on this term to climb on things and be stupid, so maybe my subconscious feels it needs to compensate.
We took the train to Shoreham, in the heart of Kentish countryside. Kent really is “the garden of England.” There were not only endless fields of crops, but small patches of forest, and some of the loveliest gardens I've seen. I love that the houses, even the small ones, often have names, like “Ivy Cottage” or “Bridge house.” The above picture shows the garden of "Bridge House."
Our first stop was the small village chapel of Shoreham, with its churchyard, so similar to the ancient ones we've seen so far. I love taking pictures of cemeteries—is that strange? They're all just so beautiful, and so serene. Especially when the cemetery is in such a beautiful place, like the one in my hometown. I often go there alone to think, watching the horses graze in the pasture across from the quiet stones. Sorry—too much information. At any rate, I was touched by a particular grave, within the chapel. “Here lyeth the body of Elizabeth Rutter.” it read, “the Wife of Samuel Rutter. She was a Prudent, Obliging, Virtuous Wife. A Careful, Tender, Affectionate Mother. An humble, Faithful, Pious Christian. She ceased performing the duties of these Several Relations Sep. 1. 1741 Aged 36.”
I love the fact that England values its countryside so highly that it insists on sharing it, always. Is it the National Trust that keeps those walkways open to the public, no matter who owns the land? I am very grateful for that. It's quite a stark contrast to some beautiful, wooded mountain areas in Utah with tantalizing trails, blocked off by a sharp sign: “No trespassing.” This opposite mindset is one of my very favorite things about England.
We passed several sites having to do with hops and hop farms. Hops are used to make beer, and are grown in many places throughout England. We saw a hop farm, and the place where hops are dried. Brother Chiddock told us about his boyhood, when a lot of his friends would spend their summers working and playing at hop farms, and all sorts of expressions arose from things like that.
Overall, the walk was a wonderful, beautiful, amazing experience that I will remember for years to come. My favorite bits of England so far have been outside the cities.
No comments:
Post a Comment