A nice day for a run

Still in catching up mode, here's a look back to the Edinburgh Marathon Festival a few weeks ago. The marathon itself took place on the Sunday, and on the Saturday there were a succession of shorter distance runs. My husband ran the 10k, raising money for the British Heart Foundation. The start of the race is as you see above: on the flat, in Holyrood Park near the gates of Holyrood Palace, the Queen's Edinburgh home. Sneakily, the route then climbed up around Arthur's Seat...

Below, some of the variegated charity T-shirts at the start line.

I Know How She Feels

Excerpt from Traveling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and her daughter Ann Kidd Taylor. Sue says, "At times like this, I feel the small curse of my introspective nature and its obstinate demands, how it wants to be allowed, wants my unhurried and undivided attention, how the moments of life insist on being metabolized and given expression. As usual, having failed to stop and tend to this unmitigated part of myself, it has stopped me."

Hallaton-Allexton-East Norton-Hallaton

Led by Barry, with Maureen and Gordon. Fine, chilly wind, muddy underfoot, some ice. Just over 10 miles in all.



Such a beautiful morning as I drive past the Welland Lake on my way to Hallaton. I haven't seen the valley so flooded for a long time, but with the sun sparkling on the water, I could live with it.

The roads are clear of snow, but some glisten with hoar frost, especially the higher roads near Eyebrook reservoir, and through Horninghold towards Hallaton. I shall probably keep regretting that I didn't stop to take photographs.



I meet the gang in Hallaton, and we brave the cold wind and set off along the Horninghold Road. We turn left along a footpath which runs across fields, almost parallel to the road. When we reach Horninghold village we turn right and then left just before the Hall, which looks as though it has converted its stables into rather exclusive apartments.



The route takes us northeast as far as Muckelburgh Farm, where we turn to the left and head due north until we meet Allexton Lane, which is more like a mud-track. We discover a body behind a hedge - his legs are plastic pipes, and his body is just old clothes - a scarecrow taking five?



At the Hallaton road we turn right towards Allexton. Belton is clearly visible behind Allexton. Before reaching the village we take a bridleway to the left, due west, more or less parallel to the A47. It crosses the stream and arrives at the main road at a lay-by. We cross the road and find the footpath a little way to the left.



We take shelter behind a hedge and indulge in a snack break. We plod on and are faced with four yellow posts to show the way. A quick look at the map and we make our choice. All is well, apart from the mud-hopping we need to do each time we meet a gate.

When we reach a road into East Norton we walk down it - past this rather strange character in a window

a novelty hatstand

and an irresistible bench.

Taking a breather at East Norton

We have to cross the A47 again, taking the old road to cut a corner, then along the road towards Hallaton for a short distance.

Decisions! Do we continue for two miles along the road, or do we turn east along a wide track which follows the ridge? We take the consensus, and the track wins. At this stage the wind is getting stronger and there's rain in the air. But we carry on boldly going. There's a junction - a surfaced road leads down to a farm, but our route goes ahead - across more mud. We arrive at a farm, labelled as Fearn Farm on the map. It has an obviously non-functional sign saying "Teas" and a sign declaring in German that it's a Zollgrenze or customs frontier. No one inspects our luggage or passports, so we carry on our merry muddy way.

We're following the route of the Leicestershire Round and the Macmillan Way here, but these fields are the muddiest yet, and sticky to boot. We have another snack break on the bridge over the dismantled railway, before tackling the last field, and joining the road near Hallaton Recreation Ground, walking past the duckpond and the Fox pub and we've done about 10 miles.

They didn't leak when I walked through puddles hoping to clean them!

of the route.

Embracing the NOW

"Most of us spend so much time thinking about where we have been or where we are supposed to be going that we have a hard time recognizing where we actually are. When someone asks us where we want to be in our lives, the last thing that occurs to us is to look down at our feet and say, "Here, I guess, since this is where I am." Taken from An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor.

Authors You Love

I found the coolest thing! If you click on this link, http://www.literature-map.com/, you can list your favorite author and ones similar to him/her will come up on a list. It's a way to find new authors that write in a style you already love.
I typed in Diana Gabaldon and got back this list: Jude Deveraux, Nora Roberts, Linda Howard, Amanda Quick, Janet Evanovich, Lori Foster, Maeve Binchy, Phillipa Gregory, Catherine Cookson, Elizabeth Peters, Jack Whyte, Mary Stewart, and more. Some of these authors I've read, some I haven't.
On Diana Gabaldon's website she lists her favorite authors. Jack Whyte is one of them. I've never read anything by him, but if Diana recommends him, that's good enough for me!
If you could pick one favorite author, who would it be?
*Photos taken at the Appalachian Museum in Norris, Tennessee, I think. I'm drawn to old books like a moth to a flame. I've seen so many of them that's it's hard to look at a photo and remember where I was at the time!

Settlement

Last weekend I had to confess myself slightly disappointed at the rather poor second half produced by Gold Coast United in Brisbane on Friday night. There was nothing for it other than to get on the bike and find a decent ride somewhere. I set off on Sunday morning for the old fashioned Springbrook/Numinbah/Tomewin circuit. The start was a little slower than I normally like, and I wasn't sure whether that was lethargy or just an early morning westerly wind. Either way, the climb toward Salmons Saddle at Springbrook soon shook that loose.

I was far more concerned with the potentially treacherous descent on the other side. I have ridden up Pine Creek Road a few times and measured 24% gradients there. This sort of thing tends to make one slightly nervous about descending the road -- especially in view of the fact that I hadn't done it since the infamous crash back in July. As it was, the disc brakes on the Salsa Vaya worked beautifully and gave me another of those "what the hell are you worrying about?" moments when I reached the bottom, turned south, and set out on the next part of the ride.



Why did every motor-cyclist on the Gold Coast want to share my ride today? It's enough to make you think disparaging thoughts about people who are too poor to afford a Harley (i.e. all of them) but still want to be "bad dudes". The ride through the southern part of Numinbah valley is indeed, beautiful, but these guys made it a lot noisier than it might have been the day before. A couple of them also saw fit to pass right in the middle of corners on the descent from Numinbah Gap -- again I can thank my disc brakes for making a potentially tricky situation into an easy one. Somewhere near Chillingham I got a little tired of the noise, and decided to head for a dirt road that I've eyed off for a while.

I knew Settlement Road would be quiet. As it was, I didn't see another human along the way. What I didn't realise what just how lovely the switchback dirt road that snaked it's way though Springbrook's southern foothills would be. The forest here was pretty dense for the most part, but it occasionally gave way to some really stunning views. After climbing for a few kilometres, the road deteriorated as it went past a fence line, and I decided to call off the chase here -- but only after admiring the view toward Mt Hobwee and Bald Mountain.
After this, there isn't a lot to tell. The Harley wannabes virtually disappeared after I passed Chillingham (apart from one lot at Crystal Creek). The only thing noticeable out here was the north-easterly wind that had replaced the south-westerly that started the day. Oh well, this bike tends to cope with headwinds better than any other I've had previously, and I still had Tomewin to throw at it. The climb over Tomewin was quite enjoyable, and almost rejuvenating. It left me with plenty of energy for finishing off the ride home, and another 130km racked up.

Another great ride was had. I also now have something to look forward to on the horizon, but I'll reveal that in another post.

My Grandma's Quilt

Even though it was in the high 90's last week, I slept with a quilt on top of my sheet, blanket, and bedspread.  I had some kind of stomach bug and couldn't get warm enough.
Now this particular quilt was one made by my maternal Grandma.  I loved that woman like no other; still do even though she's been gone for several years now.
I had never seen this quilt until my Mama called one day and asked Laurel if she wanted something of Grandma's.  Of course she said yes!  That something turned out to be a 1930's feedsack quilt. I was quickly filled with envy. " I loved Grandma best, so I should have it!  She practically raised me, you know. "  I think I startled Laurel by my vehemence.  I REALLY wanted that quilt.
Well, I told her I'd trade her one of my Mama's (her Mee Maw's) quilts for my Grandma's quilt.  I showed her about four different ones, and of course she picked out my favorite; a new quilt made from old feedsacks.  "Well.......I don't know about that one."  
So we're at a standoff.  But they are both still at my house, and doesn't possession count for something?  I told her she'd get them when I died anyway.  She can fight over them with her baby sister.  I'm so mean!  

Define 'gaudy'

One of the plants I brought with me from Illinois to Austin is this big, white, perennial hibiscus, which completely disappears over the winter, then bulks up into a large floppy plant covered in flowers. I don't care if it is gaudy - it's one of my favorites.
The Blue River ll hibiscus has proved to be quite transplantable, spaded from its previous garden in Illinois soil, replanted & grown in a deck container for five years, and now living large in Texas earth. Like my hibiscus, I've tried to be a 'transplantable rose', not just surviving, but thriving here. The blog name is also the title of one of my songs.

French Tarragon

I finally managed to find some French tarragon. This fragrant herb is essential in many French recipes, which is what I'll be using it for.
Anyone have experience with tarragon?

From Riverbend Hotsprings to the Rodeo with Art Lamely, Sue Hemming, and the horses they road in on.

We get ready to leave Riverbend Hotsprings to meander up to Colorado.

The day before we left Art and Sue the couple we met in Hillsboro on horseback rode into town. We found them a spot to camp in at the Rodeo Arena at the fairgrounds.

Lucky is Sue's horseBig John is Art's horse

Benjamin is Sue's pack horse - he is not camera shy and liked to zoom in for a close up!

Josie is Art's pack horse - part mustang and is absolutely beautiful.

After they got settled in we drove Art up to the Walmart for supplies. We had gone to the feed store and gotten them a "three string" bale of Hay for the horses. The next day left Riverbend Hotsprings and pulled into the fairgrounds.

Art showed off his bareback skills for us with Big John who is part thoroughbred. Art is taller than Gary to give you an idea of Big John's size (16.2 hands)


Sometime during the first night in the corral, Josie injured her left rear leg. Art and Sue cancelled their Hot Springs soak in order to deal with that. After Art had strained their cash reserves resupplying at Walmart,we went down to the feed store and picked up anotherbale of hay and paid for some Bute (Ibuprofen) for Josie. We gave them a ride up to Socorro to scout the ride and pick up some mail Sue was expecting. They scoped out the lay of the land for the trip on horseback and it did not look hospitable. You look at the scenery a whole lot different when you're on horseback. They average 12-15 miles a day. There seemed to be a 5 mile stretch where you couldn't get there from here and not much water along the way either. We returned to Tor C and had some cocktails outside.

Tucson was enthralled with the horses and so wanted to play with them ("They want to play with me Mommy - they told me so!). He found a bit of lasso rope and started heading to the corral.

We enjoyed visiting and getting to know Art and Sue over the 3 days we spent with them.We got a phone message from Sue the day after we left. It seems Josie is on the mend and they will be getting trailered to Socorro by some other people they met in TorC.

We wish them the best on their Journey! Who knows - maybe we'll meet again!

Till Later!

Meanwhile, we keep on Trek'n

Melissa, Gary & Tucson

Vivaldi in the National Museum

In my Scotland Street post I mentioned my long-suffering teenagers, waiting after a morning of playing in a concert at the National Museum of Scotland while I took photos. Here's what they were working hard at - a concert featuring the music of Vivaldi. Their school has a community baroque orchestra, and two groups from it played recently for Sunday visitors to the National Museum. Here they're playing Vivaldi's concerto No. 11 in D minor for 2 violins, cello and strings. My daughter has longed to play this with an orchestra ever since we attended the Suzuki World Convention in Turin, when it was played (from memory) by hundreds of young violinists, violists and cellists from 28 countries - the common language of music. My daughter is at the extreme left in the front row of standing violinist, and my son is second from right in the two standing violists. The acoustic in the museum is glorious, and the orchestra really enjoyed playing there.
In taking these shots I realised even more my photographic limitations. The museum has beautiful stonework, but I need to find out about exposures and all that stuff. This is hard for me - it involves numbers.

So this is how my season has gone

This was supposed to be the year I got serious about this whole randonneuring thing. I was planning to complete a super-series this year. To say things haven't worked out as I had hoped is a bit of an understatement, here's how it unfolded:
1. By some scheduling quirk, the season in Australia actually starts on December 1, meaning the opening 200 was the ASH Dash in Hobart on the first weekend. The simple ride from Hobart airport to the accommodation in Battery Point leads to the rear-derailleur decided to spontaneously fall to pieces in the Queen's Domain. Fortunately, the ride was scheduled on the Sunday, and I found a bike shop on the Saturday to help me out with it. I then managed to complete the ride despite an error in the route slip sending me off course and making me actually ride 230-odd km, with over 12,000 feet of climbing.
2. The first ride back in Queensland was a night ride in early January. Two flat tyres that night slowed me down, but it was completed without too many problems, and after riding to and from the start of the ride, I even managed to set a new personal distance record.
3. I then rode 2x300km rides without any problems -- even setting yet another personal distance record getting to and from one of the rides.
4. A plan was hatched to ride a 400k up in Toowoomba. A crash on wet cobblestones that severed a wire in my primary headlight just before the big ride put paid to that one.
5. I lined up for a 600k anyway, but got fatally owned in the unseasonal heat. May is supposed to be one of our cooler months, yet it managed to hit 34 degrees C (a May record), and I wasn't prepared for it at all. I abandoned at 200km after spending time sitting by the side of the road in whatever scarce shade I could find (I'd rather ride through a hail storm than a heatwave).
6. I'm supposed to be doing a 400k this weekend, but right now I'm sitting here nursing a chest infection that, presumably, came from assisting a family member who had been sick to move house last weekend. Just walking to the shops seems like hard work today, and while I'll probably be recovered by Saturday, I'm not sure I'll have the strength to do a 400k. I'm thinking I'll scale my ambitions for this weekend down to a couple of more modest local rides.
I think it's fair to just write this off for the year and focus on my touring plans now. Six weeks until I fly out for a tour of Scotland. Hopefully I've used up all the bad luck and things will start to improve. At least it was a nice sunrise here this morning.

Quote of the day: "Debt is people spending money they didn't earn to buy things they don't need to impress people they don't like."

I Get Whimsical With a Little Help from my Friends

When the security guy pulled our daughter over to the side at the Seattle Airport back in 1993 it wasn't a total surprise. Our irresistible souvenir from Molbak's wouldn't fit in any of the suitcases, and Lily had gamely volunteered to haul it home in her backpack. The shape was unrecognizable on the screen so the guard opened the zipper and looked down at a concrete statue of a Fu Dog, sometimes called a Foo Lion. After inspection we were waved through to the plane.
We bought this small Seattle version of a ferocious guardian lion partly because he reminded us of The Fu Dog Garden at Allerton Park in Illinois and partly in tribute to Henry Michell's foo dog. Our dog~lion stood in a clump of hostas in our Illinois garden for a few years, and when we moved to Texas he came along as the dean of our whimsical objects, here guarding a wax begonia.


This wacky confection greeted the people who stopped at our Illinois garden during a garden walk in the 1990's: Philo & I turned an old broken bedframe and some chickenwire into a whimsical Garden Bed - and if you look carefully at lower right you'll see the companion piece - a open suitcase rescued from the trash, painted and planted to complete this fanciful guest suite.

These dips into garden whimsy are rare - my natural tendency is to the functional and rather plain - a metal obelisk, wooden benches and chairs, undecorated clay pots, a natural stone fountain, hypertufa troughs and things like this windchime.
Long ago at a Renaissance Faire in Wisconsin we met a vendor from Austin and fell in love with these simple tubes of metal, large and tuned to a Mongolian scale. The sounds they make are harmonizing low notes of genuine music rather than clanking or tinkling. It's my kind of wind chime.



But fear not - all is not Spartan here at Circus~Cercis! Thanks to friends and family there's no lack of whimsy in our garden. Although the attrition rate from Texas weather (and critters) is high and some decorations from friends and family have melted, faded and disintegrated, there are survivors:

A motion-detecting frog was a fun gift from one dear daughter-in-law with the turtle sundial coming from one of our sons. Our other dear daughter-in-law and and another son gave us the St Francis statue. While we still lived in Illinois one of my sisters gave us this wooden angel that has miraculously survived nearly a decade in the Texas sun.
A strong wind gust picked up the heavy ceramic St Francis and slammed him against a peach tree last year. Philo filled the decapitated statue with cement and put it back together.

Whimsy seems to gravitate toward the secret garden - My friend-of-40-years, Roberta, sent the hand-painted wildflower sign. My friend Barbara sent this young girl, who reads and dreams under the pomegranate tree. Philo reused three discarded sections of ornate white iron fence to enclose the Secret Garden and that frog bench is a memento of last spring's visit from the fairy garden consultant. The squirrels and birds take it apart once in awhile and I rebuild it.
Many small decorations from the Divas of the Dirt are scattered around inside and out - including this sign Another sign came from Roberta - when she read the word "Diva" she knew who to send it to
Carol in Indiana had better avert her eyes now - here come faces in our garden!!
Philo and I bought a terracotta sun to hang on the chimney in Illinois and this face seems even more at home in Austin Titania has led a rough life in the 15 years since Philo gave me her planter head - she's no longer pristine but bears repair marks from storms and squirrels and weather damage. Maybe someone else would evict her for being too battered, but I look weathered, too, and find her companionable.
Early this year Dawn and I spent a day together, each finding pretty pots. Now this seashell planter reminds me of days on the beach in Carolina.
Are any of us completely resistant to whimsy? Once upon a time I gave this sign to my no-nonsense, vegetable-gardener uncle and was touched that he kept it. The saying was amusing, but it turned out to be untrue - this final bit of whimsy returned to me as a sentimental legacy from an old gardener. I miss him.
This wallow in whimsy and nostalgia was written by Annie in Austin, photographed with the help of a borrowed camera- go to Gardening Gone Wild for links to other bloggers who are joining in this months Garden Design Workshop.

UCAS

The Universities and Colleges Admissions Service is the body which manages applications to, as it says, universities and colleges in the UK. Its abbreviation, pronounced 'YOU-cass', has become a noun. 'Have you done your UCAS yet?' translates as 'have you completed the on-line application process through UCAS?'
At the moment it feels as if we're living with UCAS, and have been since last year when our daughter's school started preparing students and parents for the rigours of the application process. If she had been applying for entry in September/October .. to medicine, dentistry, veterinary medicine, veterinary science, Oxford or Cambridge, the on-line application would have been completed by 15 October ... These courses are under extremely high pressure from applicants, often involve additional entrance tests, and most have interviews as part of the selection process.
Since our daughter is firmly on the humanities side, the deadline in her case was 15 January ... However there is 'strong encouragement' at her school to have applications in well before the deadline, so since November it's been a case of watching email and the UCAS on-line tracking system for replies from her 5 choices. That's the maximum number of places you can apply to in your initial application. There's the possibility to go into an extra round of application if the initial one is unsuccessful, and finally a Clearing process when the summer exam results come out that matches applicants with no places with universities which still have vacancies. Within that there are further restrictions, such as only one of Oxford or Cambridge in any one year, and only four choices for medicine, vet, dentistry or vet science in any one year. So far 3 of daughter's choices have made her an offer: 2 unconditional offers from Scottish universities, where she doesn't have to get any further qualifications, and a conditional offer from an English university. Still awaited - decisions from an English and a Scottish university.The difference in the offers in a nutshell is because Scottish university degrees are normally 4 years long, and English ones 3 years. Scottish degrees also, in the main, have a broader base in the first and sometimes second year, where students take other subjects alongside their intended final specialisation. Scottish applicants can gain the entry requirements to Scottish universities on the basis of the Highers exams they take at the end of their 5th year at school. The rest of the UK takes A levels at the end of their 6th and last year at school. This is a very small nutshell - the whole issue of parity of entrance qualifications would take me several posts to work through.
As well as different entry grades, there's now the issue of different costs to be considered. Tuition is free for Scottish students attending a Scottish university. If they go to England, they will pay £9,000 a year for tuition (a few places charge slightly less), which is what English students studying in England pay. If an English student comes to university in Scotland they will pay fees - the £9,000 or whatever it is the university is charging. Keeping up? However, if a student from the European Union comes to a Scottish university they will pay no fees, as that is held to be discriminatory by the EU.
If you want to find out more about the wonderful world of UCAS (and it is an impressive set-up), have a look at their website at www.ucas.com. Meanwhile keep your fingers crossed for us!

Summer breakfast

Fusion food - Scotch pancakes like my granny never made them. On Sunday morning my daughter decided that she wanted a stack of pancakes, North American style, for breakfast. Here are the results of her labours, with woodland strawberries and blueberries from the garden, and homemade butterscotch sauce (not whisky!) from the Grant's jug.
We realised that two years ago to the day we had also had pancakes for breakfast, this time by the shore of Slocan Lake in British Columbia, on the first day of the Suzuki Valhalla Institute. Miranda blogged about it here, and I hope will have more posts as the week goes on.
Edited to add recipe for butterscotch sauce, courtesy of Katie Stewart's Times Calendar Cookbook:
Measure 100g. granulated sugar into a dry pan and stir over moderate heat until the sugar has melted and turned a golden brown. Draw off the heat and add a scant 2 1/2 dl (1/2 pint) water - take care because the mixture will boil up fiercely when you add the cold liquid. Replace the pan on the heat and add a pinch of salt, 2 teaspoons golden syrup and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla essence. Stir until the caramel and syrup have dissolved (it will form a lump initially, which will gradually melt into the remaining liquid). Add 1 level tablespoon cornflour (not sure of the North American equivalent - it's not maize flour as such, but a thickening agent) blended with 2 tablespoons cold water and stir until the sauce is boiling and slightly thickened. Add 15g. butter. Leave to cool. Serve warm or cold. The butterscotch taste is more pronounced next day.