“A fine and subtle spirit dwells, in every little flower. Each one its own sweet feeling breathes, with more or less power. There is a silent eloquence in every bluebell, that fills my soften heart with bliss, that could never tell…
… ‘Sad wanderer, weep those blissful times, that never may return!’ The lovely floweret seemed to say, and thus it made me mourn…” Anne Brontë
After a very pleasant train trip with Grand Central Rail, the journey took a bit over two hours from London to Thirsk in North Yorkshire. The town station had no lift one had to walk up some thirty steps to get out onto the street level. Fortunately I had a friend who was there to help me with my heavy suitcase.Fifteen minutes drive through the town of Thirsk, we passed a pretty hamlet of about twenty houses or so scattering among green hills, patches of yellow canola fields, and well-kept farmhouses. Arriving at Upsall Castle, a very impressive site standing on a hill above a picturesque lake where some Canadian geese made it their home peacefully raising their goslings.
The original castle from a Roman fortress which some of the walls are still standing dated back to the 13th century. Restored around the year 1800 and was burnt down in 1918 and when it was rebuilt in 192o Roman coins and artefacts were found when the workmen dug up the ground, though the pot of gold has not yet been discovered, the people are still living in “hope”.
From every window one enjoyed a different angle of the beautiful scenery that spreading over the city of York in the far distance, and from the undulated green hills of The Dales crossing over the high moor of tall grass and heather, such an idyllic landscape.
I am fortunate to be invited to stay at Upsall Castle for a few days and today I was driven to the edge around Yorkshire Dales, visiting Bolton Castle, a spectacular medieval fortress with a fascinating history where Mary, Queen of Scots was imprisoned in 1568. I hope you still enjoy wandering with me.
“… I wander tho’ each charter’d street, near where the charter’d Thames does flow…” (William Blake)
Come wander with me through the last three days in London. Through city streets, parks and bridges that always managed to stir such romantic nostalgia in one’s heart…
“… Roses, roses! Penny a bunch! they tell you, ruddy blooms of corruption, see you and smell you. Born of stale earth, fallowed with squalor and tears – North shire, south shire, none are like these, I tell you, roses of London perfumed with a thousand years…” (Willa Sibert Cather)
“… Earth has nothing to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by. A sight so touching in its majesty: This city now doth, like a garment, wear the beauty of the morning…” (William Wordsworth 1802)
“… Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew – Wanted to know what the river knew – Twenty bridges and twenty-two. For they were young, and the Thames was old… “
“… Saint Paul’s Cathedral is the finest building that ever I did see; there’s nothing can be surpassed it in the city of Dundee, because it’s most magnificent to behold. With its beauty dome and spire glittering like gold…. Oh mighty city of London! You are wonderful to see. And thy beauties no doubt fill the tourist’s heart with glee…” (William McGonagall)