North Yorkshire – Page 7 – From Pyrenees to Pennines

Getting in Touch with Our Inner Child

It was Ripon’s third Theatre Festival last week, and the weekend was to be given over to the streets and the park for theatre-in-the-street. The first two festivals had been sunny, warm, and everything good the weather could offer. Last weekend’s forecast was unremittingly vile. Rain, wind, thunder … everything you don’t want. Ripon’s luck had run out.

Except it hadn’t. Apart from one short sharp shower in the middle of Sunday, the weather was – sunny, warm enough, and everything anyone could have wished for.

Come and have a stroll. We could join Struzzo the ostrich and Maxim as they wander round the park.

Kit and Caboodle told a good yarn from their laden mule- cart. It was nicely illustrated by a moving picture show, transcribed onto an apparently unending scroll of paper unfurling before our eyes. And with added paper puppets.

We could watch the swirling-skirted clog-dancers rhythmically and musically clickety clacking their clogs.

Or we could wait for a train with the Rhubarb Theatre and their Three Suitcases as they try to set off on holiday. We’d have a long wait. Ripon doesn’t have a station.

Oh, hang on! There’s plenty going on near the Market Square too…. such as Fireman Dave …

… I want to catch the Bachelors of Paradise …

… and Logy on Fire, who does astonishing feats of acrobatics and balance with batches of discarded cigar boxes …

And there’s so much more. I only managed to see Four Hundred Roses, whom I photographed here, as they wandered up Kirkgate between performances.

I wish you could have been actually – rather than virtually – there too. Maybe next year?

Half as Old as Time

Just beyond the walls surrounding Fountains Abbey estate is a farm rented by a tenant farmer. It includes a small patch of land, untended and fenced off, because several trees got here first. They’re yew trees, and they’re thought to be about 1400 years old.

Think how long ago that was. It was only a couple of hundred years after the Romans had finally left these isles. It was several hundred years before the Norman invasion of 1066. By the time a group of monks from York had come to the site to build a Cistercian community here in 1132, those trees were already some 500 years old. This area would have been wooded, wild and interspersed with occasional farms. There would have been wolves, wild boar, lynx, otters, red and roe deer. But no rabbits. There’s no archaeological evidence for rabbit stew in any of the nation’s cooking pots from those days. They probably came with the Normans.

Those trees – once seven, now only two – would have been witness to the monastic community maturing: to the abbey and all its supporting buildings and industries developing. They would have seen the community grow, then all but collapse during the Black Death in 1248: and slowly prosper again. Until Henry VIII dissolved all the monastries, and Fountains Abbey’s roof was hauled down in 1539, leaving it pretty much the ruin it is today. By then, the trees were working towards being 1000 years old.

They’ve always been a bit out on a limb, these trees, and that’s what has made them such a rich habitat. They offer protection and nest sites for small birds, who can also eat their berries . Caterpillars feast on the leaves. These days, they’re home to eight species of bat, and a wide variety of owls. Yew trees are famously toxic to most animals – that’s why they’re fenced off – but badgers are able to eat the seeds, and deer the leaves.

A red deer stag grazing on leaves: not yew leaves this time.

I can’t show you any of the creatures for whom these trees are their neighbourhood – apart from a grazing deer at nearby Studley Royal. Just the ancient trees themselves, the nearby Fountains Hall, built in late Elizabethan times when they were already 1000 years old, and a slightly more distant view of Fountains Abbey itself. My featured photo, the last image I took in June, is of those yew trees, looking as though they’re ready for the next 1000 years.

Fountains Hall, as seen from the yew trees.

Fountains Abbey, as seen from the yew trees.

This is for Brian’s Last on the Card, and – somewhat tenuously – for this week’s Lens-Artist Challenge from Tina: Habitat.

The phrase ‘Half as old as time’ was actually coined by John William Burgon in 1845, in his poem ‘Petra’.

A Walk near Rievaulx – in Glorious Technicolor or as Old School Newsreel

The other day, a friend and I took ourselves off to the Ryedale countryside to reconnoitre a route. It turned out to be not only the Longest Day, but the First Day of Summer, in the sense that the weather was wonderful – hot and sunny .

Setting off on a shaded woodland path, we criss-crossed a flowers-edged stream several times.

We forged our way up a steep – unending – hill. Is that even a path?

We exchanged woodland for fields and open views, with clouds above:

We met a ford which lapped along a long stretch of road. Luckily there was a footpath through a field nearby, and edged with iris too.

Sheep looked on, and ancient walls often marked our way.

And at last, below us the ancient ruined Cistercian Abbey of Rievaulx.

Now let’s run this in black and white.

We criss-crossed a stream:

… and later, the woods opened out into farmland. Crazy sky!

Luckily, we were able to dodge fording the ford: or testing our brakes.

As an alternative to sheep-watching, we chose shadow-watching on the narrow road that was part of our route.

And soon after that, Rievaulx Abbey was no longer below us, but alongside.

And as our walk finished, the road sign confirmed that we had indeed seen Rievaulx.

For Jo’s Monday Walk.

And for Leanne and Dawn‘s Monochrome Madness: Roads, Lanes, Paths and Tracks.

Think differently!

Today’s post features photos I’ve shown before, but I think the travelling-arrangements shown here deserve another outing on my blog. The rovers in this traditional vardo have renewed their attitude to travel and urge us to do the same: to journey slowly and reflectively, taking time to revitalise their contact with the areas they travel through, and making no negative impact.

To my shame, tomorrow I’m not following their excellent example. I’m off to Spain for a couple of weeks, to offer a hand to my daughter and her family as she returns to work after maternity leave following the birth of a second daughter. And I’m flying to Spain. I’m not pleased about this at all – but however we looked at it, the train journey was just beyond budget.

All my remaining posts for the month have been scheduled: I’m rubbish at posting from my phone – or at any rate in making links. What could possibly go wrong? Each one will be set in Spain, though from some previous visit. And I may be rather slow at responding to comments, or in reading posts from fellow-bloggers. Hasta pronto!

For Becky’s #SquaresRenew Challenge, she’s inviting us to post square – only square – photos on the themes of Burgeoning; Moving Forward; Reconstruction; or Renewal.

New Life?

Apparently not. This nest was made by a young moorhen who then laid her eggs in it, on a quiet corner of the ferry boat which goes to and fro across the lake at Harewood House. This was a fortnight ago. It seems she thought she’d done her job, because she then wandered back to her usual routine of fossicking about in the water and its margins, and has never sat on them at all. Any chance they had of hatching has long gone. Let’s hope this young thing learns better parenting skills before the season’s out.

For Becky’s #SquaresRenew Challenge, she’s inviting us to post square – only square – photos on the themes of Burgeoning; Moving Forward; Reconstruction; or Renewal

The Wrong Kind of Renewal

Poor old Ripon Spa Baths. A hundred and twenty years old, and now – quite literally – put out to grass. We have a new Leisure Centre here in town now. These Edwardian baths are now surplus to requirements and up for sale. Meanwhile, doughty seedlings and saplings commandeer cracks in the mortar and gaps in the tiling: putting down roots that will let water in and begin to crumble brickwork.

The header image is courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, Brian Shore.

For Becky’s #SquaresRenew

Rocks of Ages

This week, Donna’s Lens Artist Challenge invites us to celebrate rocks, their geology, and what they have meant to humankind. Bloggers have responded with hosts of natural wonders: extravagant, bizarre, subtly beautiful and all extraordinary. I had planned to respond in kind, by showcasing – as I have in my feature photo – our nearby geological extravaganza which is Brimham Rocks. But I already have several times – here – here and here – to name but a few.

Instead, I’ve chosen to show rocks in the service of mankind. Brimham Rocks even fit in here. These days they’re our very best local playground.

The grandchildren are king and queen of the castle.

But rocks have been pressed into service since prehistoric times. Here is Cairn Holy in Dumfries and Galloway. It’s a Neolithic burial site – perhaps that of Galdus, a Scottish king. But perhaps not: he’s thought to be mythical.

Farmers have divided their land up into fields for almost as long. Drystone walls march across the rural landscape here, particularly in the north of England.

And where would our churches, our cathedrals be without a ready supply of local rock and stone?

Rievaulx Abbey, North Yorkshire, in ruins since Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536

Rievaulx’s walls continue to provide shelter and nourishment for local flora.

Scuplture too. I’ve chosen a few pieces that have weathered over the centuries, to reveal the underlying rock that the original sculptor had chiselled to the form that he, not nature had decided on.

Nature too can be a sculptor. This rock, hauled from the sea on the Spanish coast, has been transformed by – what? Underwater snail trails?

Nature doesn’t need any help from man when it comes to artistic expression. I’ll conclude with an image of rock at its most painterly, in the Gorges du Tarn in France.

Tea and Coffee Cups I Have Known

Monochrome Madness this week has us hunting down everyday objects. I thought it might be fun to showcase some of the teacups and coffee cups I have met round and about. I’ll start off with my feature photo. Once, in Granada, at a bar with a friend, we found our different choices meant that we were served our coffee in the manner of the Three Bears -Baby Bear, Mummy Bear, and Daddy Bear.

Poland next, and our breakfast in Gdansk. Sir William gets himself about, all over Europe. But not as far as I know, in the UK.

Granddaughter-in-Spain is too young for coffee. Hot chocolate is her tipple of choice. With predictable results.

After a busy morning of child care, let’s go for something more elegant. A good olden-days afternoon tea, courtesy of the Wensleydale Railway. Trundle in a leisurely fashion through the North Yorkshire countryside whilst enjoying tea elegantly served with dainty scones and cakes on a tiered cake stand. Earl Grey or Darjeeling, Madam?

If fine china is your thing, you should visit the National Museum of Korea in Seoul. Here you can find delicate tableware like this – extraordinarily from the 12th Century – getting on for 1000 years ago …

And if museums are your thing, you should visit the much more homely Nidderdale Museum in Pateley Bridge. Here you’ll find tableware from local churches. Yes, almost every church used to have their very own tea and dinner services for those all-important social gatherings.

Another display, this time from the annual Marmalade Festival near Penrith.

Finally, that newly-so-British tradition of the Scarecrow Festival. This one’s from last year’s village fete at Kirkby Malzeard, our village-next-door.

So, Sarah of Travels with Me, who’s prompted this week’s challenge for Leanne’s Monochrome Madness: here’s a slice of life from those so-important moments of down-time. No high class photos here. Quite simply high-class memories.

A Townie’s Jaunt to the Countryside

You live in a town – maybe even a big city. And on a nice Sunday afternoon, you fancy a ride out to the country to see what you can see. What do you want to find?

Maybe a barn, or even better barns, dotted round the pastureland.

In Yorkshire, or ‘up north’ at any rate, a drystone wall wouldn’t go amiss.

You have to see a flock of sheep, a few cows. A gaggle of geese too maybe?

And a farmer at work – yes, even on a Sunday …

And a rusting old tractor in a tumbledown barn?

And you need to drive along ‘the rolling English road‘, made, according to GK Chesterton, by ‘the rolling English drunkard‘.

And to make your day complete, just before you head back to town and all mod cons, you’d quite like to have to grind to a halt on the road because…

For Leanne’s Monochrome Madness: Outside the city and into the country.

Water in Motion?

You want water in motion, Sofia, for your Lens-Artist Challenge? You’ve come to the right place. We speak of little else in England this year. Look at this.

A dismal moment sheltering by the River Skell in Ripon.

Or this, taken through the windows of Christ the King Cathedral, Liverpool.

But without this rain, we wouldn’t have those glorious tumbling riverside views: these are both from Yorkshire: I’m focussing on England for this post – it seems appropriate.

Water’s playful too: especially in the hands of a sculptor. Here’s Atlas with his sea gods at Castle Howard, Yorkshire. A fuller image is shown as the featured photo.

And a child in Granary Square, London is certainly having fun.

Fountain, Granary Square, Kings Cross London.

But we’ll conclude with a more typical London view, overlooking the River Thames.