Serendipigoat

What are the odds?
In Georgia last month, I visited some relatives and searched through photos for ancestors. I came across this instead.

A pint-sized Valentine!

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Updated:
Ang mentioned in comments that heart patterns on livestock aren't completely uncommon. So I did a little searching and found these online:
British piglet, also named Valentine, beyond cute.
Japanese chihuahua, named Heart-kun, exceedingly adorable.
Cat and another cat (not quite as well-defined, still charming).
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Updated again:
Check out Northview Diary's cow, Mandy, who has a cute little white heart on her side.

Another view

Some time ago I made a relatively lengthy post on this blog detailing some of the reasons why cycling is such an integral part of my life. Yesterday I was reading an excellent post from Jill in Alaska on a similar theme. Her post mentions something that I had overlooked -- the fact that I find myself relatively reluctant to talk about my riding to people who don't ride.
The simple fact is, I've come to the realisation that people who don't ride on a regular basis just won't understand. That's not intended as a vitriolic or condescending comment, it's just a fact of life. If I try to explain to someone that I'm planning to ride over 300km on Saturday night, or that I rode hundreds of kilometres last weekend in temperatures up to 40 degrees C, or that I crossed about five mountains in the process, it's fairly obvious what sort of reaction I'm going to get. Indeed, I've even noticed this from a lot of other cyclists here on the Gold Coast where the overriding cycling philosophy seems to be "only in certain designated areas".
So I just ride, and don't bother explaining it to anyone, save the two or three regular readers I have here. For me riding is also an escape, an escape from an increasingly plastic world in which everyone is masquerading as whatever they feel as though "should be" in order to be popular (and expects me to do the same). A world in which so many things are over rated just so that they can be sold. When I ride I can just be myself for a while, without having to worry about everyone else's vain pretences.
It also provides stability in a world in which everything seems to be in a state of flux. People coming into your life and leaving all the time -- often I don't even bother trying to stay in touch anymore as it just seems like delaying the inevitable. The very world around me is constantly changing. Even on my rides this is noticeable -- dirt roads are being paved everywhere, suburbia is expanding, the hippie mudbrick cottages in the hinterland being replaced by charmless Mcmansions.
In such a world, it's the basic act of riding that never changes, the feeling is as great as it always was, and this provides some stability, some certainty in a time when everything else seems fleeting. The combination of elation and exhaustion at completing a century that crossed three mountain passes, or reaching that campsite on a tour after being belted with 90km/h winds and driving rain. It's this that keeps me going, and this that I can only get through riding a lot. It's this, or the promise of this, that keeps me going through everything else. It's this that makes me look forward to my next ride, my next escape.

The Son of a Preacher Man

A short while ago I visited Bag Enderby Church, just a ten minute drive away from where we live. You can find that posthere. At the same time we visitedSomersby which is about half a mile further on, as this is where Alfred Lord Tennyson was born. I was interested to learn a few more details about the early life of the poet, Tennyson.




Alfred's grandfather was a highly ambitious and social-climbing solicitor. He owned two houses - one of these was Tealby Lodge (later called Bayons Manor) in Tealby. The house is now in ruins, having been blown up in 1964 - deliberately blown up as it was in a state of decay - but I found this print online ...

Delusions of grandeur

The grandfather had two sons, the elder was Alfred Tennyson's father, George. In the normal scheme of things George would have been made heir, but both parents favoured the younger son, Charles. This had a terrible affect on him for the rest of his life and as an adult Georgewas prone to depression, alcoholism, forgetfulness, foul language, and violence; not an easy person to be around.

Front of the Rectory

George was more or less forced by his father to take Holy Orders, even though he felt no calling. He was ordained deacon in 1801 and priest 18 months later. He married Elizabeth Fytche, the very beautiful daughter of the vicar of St James' Church in Louth - she was reputed to have already turned down 25 proposals of marriage!




His parishes were Great Grimsby, Benniworth, Bag Enderby, and Somersby, where they lived in the Rectory.




Alfred was born on August 6th, 1809, the fourth of twelve children. All but the first child, a boy, survived. The boys all grew tall and good looking and the girls were renowned for their beauty.

Alfred Lord Tennyson, The back of the Rectory at Somersby,
The Church at Somersby (I couldn't get it all in one photo because of a yew tree!)

Borrowed image of Schoolhouse Lane, Louth

Young Alfred went to Louth Grammar School when he was seven. He was bullied by the older boys and also by the Masters. The Headmaster was notorious for his frequent and heavy use of the birch. Alfred hated the school but endured four years there. Eventually his education was continued at home by his father. Years later when he visited Louth he would never walk down Schoolhouse Lane!




Alfred had a reputation for being very strong and is reputed to have amused guests of the household by carrying a Shetland pony around the rectory lawn. Once, he was sitting next to an open window in his bedroom and answered the hoot of an owl so realistically that the bird flew in. It became very tame and would sit by him while he wrote, rubbing its beak against his face.




I can imagine that it must have been a very lively and noisy household, presided over by his mother, Elizabeth. She produced a baby almost every year - which must have been exhausting in itself! Factor in the moods and depression of her sometimes hostile and violent husband and her life was not an easy one. During the 1820's George suffered breakdowns and life became very difficult for them all. One of Alfred's brothers became an alcoholic and an opium addict, another was put into an asylum. During one violent quarrel George threatened to kill his oldest son. He took to keeping a knife and a loaded gun at the rectory openly threatening to use them on him.




This is the interior of Somersby church, including the font where Tennyson was baptised. It is a small attractive church, which still has its 15 foot high, 15th century churchyard cross. Amazingly the Roundheads gave it a miss during their tour of destruction. I much preferred the little church at Bag Enderby, just half a mile away across a couple of fields. Young Alfred would definitely have spent much time in and around both of them.




Alfred's father died in 1831, his health and his mental well-being had deteriorated over the years and he succumbed to typhus. Neither his father, nor his brother Charles, attended his funeral in Somersby. The grandfather provided a reasonable allowance for the family to enable them to continue living in the Rectory. Alfred and two of his brothers had to leave Cambridge University as their grandfather refused to fund them. He tried to push Alfred into being ordained, but he was having none of it.




He was born for other things!




Alfred Lord Tennyson was the most popular poet of the Victorian era and was made Poet Laureate at the insistence of Queen Victoria's husband, Prince Albert. It is recorded that one year he earned £10,000 from his poetry - a fortune in those days.




He died in 1892 and is buried in Poets Corner in Westminster Abbey.

Wilderness Advanced First Aid....check!

Alec eating lunch, single-handedly.

Alec just returned from a four-day Wilderness Advanced First Aid class, offered by Rutabagaand attended by 20 paddling instructors, guides and other people who work in outdoor recreation, particularly with kids.
This is follow-up course to the basic two-day Wilderness First Aid course many of us take to meet the requirement for maintaining certification as an American Canoe Association instructor. It can also be used as a recertification for Wilderness First Responders, of whom there were eight in this course, or as the first step toward becoming a Wilderness First Responder (the next being the four-day Bridge course).
Like other training and certification programs we've undergone, each of these first aid courses raises participants' level of skill and scope of practice (or remit). Wilderness First Aid teaches basic skills for diagnosing and treating maladies we might encounter; Wilderness Advanced First Aid provides more depth and breadth for people with a higher level of responsibility for groups of people on longer trips into more remote areas.

Wilderness Medical Associates lead instructor Sawyer Alberi places a tornaquet on assistant instructor John Browning.

The course teachespatient assessment, a system that guides the process of diagnosing and making decisions about treating people who are ill or injured. It also teaches CPR, interventions (treatments), and procedures for stabilizing and evacuating patients. There are some classroom lectures and discussions, but the emphasis is onlearning through experience by means of carefully designed scenarios.

Mary, stabilized and ready fora helicopter evacuation after a mountaineering incident.

Trainings like these cost money and take time, but they're well worth it. The knowledge we gain helps us prevent some incidents and handle others if they arise. We hope to do more of the former and less of the latter.

What To Do, What To Do?

I tasted my first kumquat last month at the B&B in St. Mary's, GA.  It's going to be an acquired taste for me, although it wasn't an unpleasant experience. 
The hostess/owner had picked them off a tree in her backyard.  I asked her how you eat them not knowing whether to peel or not.  The skin looks like an orange peel.
She said you just pop them in your mouth and start chewing.  I tentatively did so and found them not unpleasant.  It's just strange to eat a citrus rind.
Yesterday at Laurel's house, she had a bowl full of them.  She had gotten them at a local grocery store, so I went and bought three packs.
Now, the question is...what am I going to make with them?  I was thinking maybe marmalade?  I love orange marmalade and don't see why you can't make marmalade from kumquats.  
Laurel and I are meeting in about an hour to pick strawberries.  I wonder if you can mix kumquats and strawberries?  Any ideas out there?
P.S.  The bottle behind the bowl is one I got when we were staying in England for a week.  It's called 'Washing Up Liquid' and is used for washing dishes.  I keep it on my laundry room sink and use it for any clothes that need handwashing.  I love how the British call things by different names!

Happy Birthday One-Year Old!

Hi! I had a most pawesome first barkday and I so wanna woof about it! It all started with a great romp in the muck - woo hoo!

We had to put on HATS that we were not so WILD about, but because of the yumzers ice cream and cool huge doggeh cookie, it was okay!!! Here's a li'l slideshow of my pawesome day!

We wants to say huge thank yous to Sierra Rose's Mom for sending over some of her super photos that I used in the slideshow. I had a most wonderful day and wanna wish my awesome siblings, Ronan, Thistle, Jamie, Levi and Chelsea a Happy First Barkday!

The Purging Continues...

This is my husband's office. I only took photos of MY side of the room. His is just as bad. So last Friday night he declares, "I'm going to Bass Pro tomorrow to buy a gun safe, and when I get back, I want all your stuff out of my office."
When I come up against anything unpleasant I don't want to do, I remember these words from Psalm 55: "Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness."
I could really use some 'wilderness' time right now what with the babies being born, lessons that need planning, rooms getting painted, grandchildren being kept, etc.
So...that gave me about three hours (see paragragh 1). Fortunately, both daughter-in-laws could help, so we attacked it and did a fine job of tossing out, keeping, and Goodwilling. The rest of this stuff are things I no longer want but are valuable; things I don't want to thrift.
I've already called two of my younger friends over and let them have a scrounge around. I need to call a few more. I said younger friends, because when you're my age you're usually looking to get rid of what you've accumulated over the last quarter century or more.
After the aforementioned gun cabinet was safely in place, I boxed up all the things I'm keeping to regift and quietly slid them back into the office.He's not happy about it, but it's only for a short while.
Kitchen redo is in progess. Pics coming soon.