October Travel: Hardwick Hall

October can be a stunning time of year to go exploring.  If you manage the right day, you get brilliant autumn sunshine reflecting off the changing leaves.  Everything feels golden.  My online photo storage reminded me last week of one October weekend that was decidedly not golden.  It included nonstop rain dripping down your back and leaving your jeans a trifle on the sopping side.  We remember you fondly, Northumberland.  

But that was not so on this little stop we took on a Fall Break road trip five years ago now.  We were driving south from North Yorkshire to Gloucestershire, and K.J. is the king of finding good places to stretch your legs.  No stop is ever wasted, especially when you're a member of The National Trust.  A year's membership gains you entrance to any property all year long, guaranteeing you beauty, history, and inspiration, as well as a clean restroom on road trips.  Win, win, win.

We didn't take time to walk around inside the house but walked around the gardens where we saw something we've never forgotten, one of the most ingenious ideas we've ever seen:

The park was full of gorgeous, mature trees changing color and dropping leaves.  Both large and small rakes placed all around next to big leaf bags insured every kid spent several minutes doing some work.  Pure genius, I tell you.

Hardwick Hall is in Derbyshire and was built between 1590-1597.  In addition to its splendid trees there are many delightful nooks and crannies to discover in the garden.  If I were Mr. Collins I could perhaps tell you how much the window casings cost.  I have no idea; however, I can tell you the windows are abundant and beautiful.

I don't think I knew this when we visited, but the hall is used as the location of Malfoy Manor in the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows film.  It was made to look a little more sinister by adding spiky tops to the towers.

The old hall is next door, its windows just as impressive, though they are now missing glass...and the rooms are open to the sky.  There are magnificent views of surrounding countryside to take in before you leave.

I hope you enjoyed a little armchair October traveling.  It made me happy to re-visit Derbyshire through pictures once more.

Feed the Birds

The first morning we wake up in England is at the tail-end of the recent heatwave on this side of the Atlantic, and it feels stuffy inside.  J and I go out to eat breakfast on a bench overlooking the harbor.  It's cool and overcast now, and it's such a relief after the constant sweating of the past week.  The sound of squawking seagulls interrupts the morning peace.  I look just to my left and point out to J that the seagulls must be hoping for a few droppings as the bins are emptied.

This man's partner walks toward us to empty another bin and stops to shoot the breeze.

"We feed the baby seagulls every morning."

So they're not just hoping for accidental droppings; they're flying in for a breakfast buffet they know to expect.

"Seagulls are smarter than you think.  Sometimes people put bags on the top of the bins to keep them from getting in, and we've seen them go flying straight into them to knock them off the top."

"Sometimes we have to break up fights between the seagulls and the crows."

My mind conjures up a picture of rival gangs in West Side Story, and I'm reminded that every life and every job has something interesting to lighten the load.  It makes me happy that these men spend their mornings feeding the birds while they keep the harbor clean.

The Liberation of Étretat

After walking on the top of the cliffs the four of us walked down what seemed at least 100 stone steps to the beach.  The air was so still and warm it was a perfect day for sunbathing, and there were a lot of people doing that very thing on the rocky beach.  We started off walking through the town in search of an American flag I'd seen from the cliff-top.  I always get curious when I see the flag of my homeland blowing in the wind and wonder what place it's marking in a foreign land.  

 Wouldn't you love a tower room?

I saw a church built of similar stone on England's

southern coast.  It's so pretty.

We walked through narrow streets, passing a boulangerie closed for les vacances, and we stopped to purchase a couple of bookmarks with painted beach scenes on them, as well as a somewhat random thing we collect in France--plastic place-mats depicting well-known Impressionist paintings.  We enjoy eating off of great art.  K.J. added one of Claude Monet's paintings of the cliffs to our collection.  We walked a little further down the street and found ourselves in a town square where a man strummed softly on a guitar, and we found the flags we were looking for.

I'm always so moved reading these plaques, especially when I come upon them accidentally in small towns like this.  They're an unexpected reminder of a history that seemed very long ago and far away until living in England and France.  Reading this inscription made me think about how many tough decisions were made, how many hard conversations arguing pros and cons of getting involved must have taken place before the events of September 2, 1944.  This is three months after D-Day.  I wonder how much news the people living here were able to receive during that time.  I'm sure they were anxiously awaiting their own liberation.  What was it like the day the men of the 51st Highland Division and General Eisenhower's armies arrived?  What a wonderful, sacrificial thing to be a liberator, how wonderful to be liberated.

The Cliffs of Étretat

While on our little beach trip to the Normandy coast earlier this month we spent an afternoon at Étretat.  K.J. and I stopped here briefly on our first trip to France in 2013.  That little picture stop took place one extremely windy and cold May evening.  I was expecting for it to be similarly windy this time around, but there was not very much wind at all, and the kids even got a little sunburned.

When K.J. and I first visited in 2013 we drove the car up the road and parked, but parking wasn't allowed at the top on this visit.  We walked half a mile uphill to enjoy the stunning view.

I'm glad it wasn't a super-windy day, because Noreen told me before we left about people in the past who had been blown off the side of the cliffs.  😲 I gave J some serious commands to stay near me on the path and not to get anywhere near the edge.  There are lots of places where there aren't any barriers, so I would not recommend visiting with young kids.  It could be very dangerous.

We spotted a big carrier ship in the distance crossing the channel.

It was an absolutely perfect day for walking along the cliffs.  I was surprised to find cows, corn, and barley fields along the top.  I could re-write the lyrics of My Favorite Things with all there was to enjoy during this walk:  a perfectly clear blue sky, ripened barley fields with poppies growing in their midst, and coastline stretched out as far as the eye can see.  These are a few of my favorite things.

I watched two seagulls flying in tandem for a while.

Here's those poppies I was talking about.

Sunset at Fécamp

K.J. drives us up the cliffside in Fécamp to watch the sunset one night, scheduled for 10:09 p.m. according to our phones.  We pass a chapel, Église Notre-Dame-du-Salut.  It seems like every church we visit on this trip is a tribute to "our lady" Mary.  We park across the street from graceful windmills I spotted earlier in the day behind the hill.  Cows are grazing beneath them, and the light is so perfect, my photography-loving heart is jumpy with excitement.

There's a viewing spot for looking out over Fécamp down the street from the car park.  I especially love the tower on St. Stephen's church in the town.  If a church must be called after a saint, Stephen is a good choice; I don't think I've ever seen a St. Stephen's before.

We walk along a grassy path and find a good spot for K.J. to set up a time-lapse video.  The English Channel stretches out silvery blue before us, and the white cliffs on our right extend as far as our eyes can see.  The breeze moves the grass gently, and the seagulls are calling.

K.J. preached Psalm 19 just the day before this, and he told us how if you could scoop up a bucketful of the sun, that one bucketful would weigh more than the earth and everything on it.  I love getting to see a glimpse of our big star on this clear night.  I look at my watch when it disappears below the horizon, and it is 10:10 p.m. 

We walk back to our car under a violet sky, and I stop to take a picture of the cows under the windmill because I know my mom would like it.