Tuesday, 25 October 2011
I recently wrote in my blog "Hope" how hubby and I take a trip to the Malvern Hills
at least once a year and climb the steep sides of Britsh Camp,
to prove that we still can!
And to enjoy the marvelous views of course!
This Saturday as the golden autumn weather continued to hold
we decided it was to be a British Camp day,
so I thought you might like to come along and share
just a few of the views.
I have had to be very strict with myself and limit the pics,
or the site would have taken even longer than it did to load,
but I can assure you this is the merest hint
Still at the relative beginning of the climb
you can see how high up we are,
as we look out towards Evesham
Nestled below us in the hill is Little Malvern Priory which dates from 1125.
And on we climb with the hills with more good walking galore towards Malvern town peeping at us on our right.
Here you can see something of the structure of the iron age fortifications we are walking on.
It's not a straight climb by any means.
However we did make it to the top
and here is the hero of the hour!
Hubby climbed it while suffering from a trapped nerve in his back for which we hope he will soon have surgery.
Not bad for 75 is he?!
Friday, 21 October 2011
While the glory of the autumn sunshine still lasted
we went home to Wales for a couple of days last weekend.
In the hills we found the wind's breath iced with winter's promise;
clean and exhillerating as wine.
We travelled this road up the valley from Abergavenny towards Blaenavon where, so many years ago,
I learned how to drive.
I certainly learned how to cope with ice and snow
in the cold months,
and the shrouds of fog which can descend at any time of year.
At the top of the mountain road we stopped at Keepers Pond where the summit of the Sugar Loaf
can be seen beyond the water standing guard over Abergavenny.
It is a place of special beauty, comfort, and warmth for us.
When I could go there every day
it still brought me soul refreshment.
May you find such a place this weekend.
Monday, 10 October 2011
Greetings to all those celebrating
Canada's Thanksgiving Day.
My Dad was a boy immigrant to Canada back in the 1930s.
After his brother was drowned in a boating accident
on one of the lakes he had the sad task
of bringing his body home to Wales.
A happier outcome was that before returning to Canada
he met, and fell for my mother,
he met, and fell for my mother,
who refused to entertain any idea of leaving Wales.
Growing up I always felt I'd been cheated of
growing up a Canadian.
I had to settle for being named after somebody called
whom Dad had known in
the much dreamed of land of the Maple Leaf.
I still dream of visiting to this day.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
The challenge from http://iamthedivaczt.blogspot.com/
this week is to depict our own version of hope.
I guess there will be plenty of mountains in the entries but
mine is not really a true mountain.
We are lucky enough to live near the Malvern Hills
and love to climb the part known as
which is the remains of Iron Age earthworks carved by ancient Britons.
It has two approaches.
One an easy walk and the other a steep climb.
On a New Year Day a few years back I had been quite poorly
but we set out to climb
the most rugged and demanding
path to the top.
The wind was bitter and buffeted us
on the exposed heights of the hill
and it was only with much puffing and blowing,
resting and being supported by hubby,
that I made it to the top
to be rewarded by the sight of the winter sun
sinking over the Welsh hills
set out far below us.
Since then we make the ascent at least once a year
and getting to the top has become
our symbol of overcoming whatever difficulties
the year brings.
Getting to the top is a
So my Zentangle signifies difficulties faced and overcome.
You will notice the sides of the hill decorated with
little anchors because I had the words of Hebrews 6:19
about hope being the anchor for our souls
running through my head as I drew.
The hope mentioned depends on the fact
that we can believe in God's faithfulness.
Now, as much as at any time in history
we need that hope to hold us
when we face threats and fears.
What delighted me was as the anchors in my tangle
grew more sketchy
they began to resemble little dancers
climbing the slopes of my "mountain".
The leaden steps of the valley giving way
to the joy of looking towards hope fulfilled.
I couldn't resist putting a little figure
waving a welcome at the summit.
Whether we believe it is God,
or our partner, or friends;
or even our own selves
strengthening us on towards a better place,
I pray we may all be filled with