Bluebell Wood

Yesterday was spent on a lovely wander through the woods between Tring and Berkhamsted.  I won't even pretend that I have a clue where I was most of day but our guide, Paul (http://www.ukwildadventures.com/), did a great job of showing us around even though the weather was a bit damp.  Okay, it was more than damp, it was downright wet and muddy!  But, no surprise to those who remember me as a child, I actually really didn't mind the mud at all. There is still a bit of thrill to be had when you are allowed to play in the mud.

The highlight of the hike was a meadow of bluebells.  They looked like a carpet of bright blue on the forest floor.  Quite other-worldly and so picture perfect you would almost think it was some clever Disney trick.  Mother nature really outdid herself in this instance. Everything was accented by some rather adorable little ones running around with umbrellas in colourful raincoats and rubber boots.  I imagine to them it must seem as though they had been let out to play right in the land of make believe.

It really was great day out.  I find it a bit exhausting to deal with such a big city all of time and a few hours in the quiet was just what I needed.  I enjoy living in London more than New York but, in both cases, I am/was living in the heart of a large urban centre which, while exciting, is constantly moving...vibrating with energy and noise.  It is exhilarating most of the time but in my mind "home" is still the wide open prairies.  When people ask me where I am from I usually describe it as just like the TV show Little House on the Prairies.  People usually laugh but then they can describe it back to me in detail.  They always ask if the people are really that nice and wholesome...and it always makes me so proud to be able to tell them that they really are.

The hike was concluded in a wonderful little pub along the canal called the Rising Sun (http://theriser.net/).  The publican himself, Nigel, gave us a very engaging education on ciders and perries - cider is made from apples and perry is made from pears.  I think I am totally converted to cider drinking now that I have tasted some of the best in Britain.  The rum cask aged one I ended with was spectacular!  Definitely a great recommendation from one of the regulars.

Well, I guess I should go and try to get the mud out of my hiking pants.  I managed to get it up to my knees...and then there are the places I wiped my dirty hands...remember when your Mom used to make you strip down at the door when you came in from playing?  Still applicable after all these years.

Tea Time

The weather is beautiful in London these days.  Warm sunny days seem to be the usual these days.  Definitely not typical for England.  In fact there is a pretty serious drought going on here and there is already water rationing in some of the most severely hit areas.

I'm enjoying my terrace (British for balcony) but missing my yard.  There is something about spring that makes me want to get my hands dirty.  Must be all that farming blood running through my veins.  Here they would call a yard a garden.  But the gardens that I have seen are all really little more than a tiny patch of space (12 feet x 20 feet would be pretty big) and doesn't really allow for any sort of gardening like Canadians are used to.  I often think of how big my Grandma's garden on the farm was when I spent my summers there!  And that was just the garden not the yard.  I actually have a picture of Grandpa & Grandma's current yard, looking out to the barn, on my computer screen at work and have been asked several times if ALL of that is our land.  I think they think my Grandparents are rich.  When I tell them how much land my Uncle farms their eyes get a little bugged out.  In Canada land is measured in sections and in England it it measured in square metres.  Very different scales of reference.

People who want to grow their own vegetables have an allotment.  This is like a plot in a community garden.  Allotment gardening is serious stuff over here.  People are on lists for years to get an allotment.  At first when I would see allotment gardens I could not figure out what was going on.  It looks like horrible mess to me.  The plots don't seem to be laid out in any sensible manner and there tend to be garden/tool sheds which range from fanciful doll houses to rotten lean-to's.  Weeding doesn't appear to be such a priority, in general, English gardens -- be they flowers or vegetables -- are far less tended than I am used to.

Not much of note happening these days for me (other than the sun bathing).  I have started collecting a proper English tea set from Fortnum & Mason.  You could substitute expensive for proper in the previous sentence if you wish.  Thanks to my recent visitors, I received a very nice gift certificate in the mail a few days after they left and I quickly invested it in a pretty little cream and sugar set to go with my new tea pot.  I have added a few other bits and bobs too.  I can report that a proper cup of tea, made with proper English tea, is available to any future visitors.  But you'll have to drink out of very improper mugs...because I'm still saving up for the tea cups to match!