Up Close
It was the privilege of monarchs to tour the country with a train of horses and carriages as the whole court moved with them. By the 17th century the aristocracy had developed a social season, spending April to June in London and then transferring their households back to their country estates.
Having just returned from the Lake District where we stay in the same accommodation for a week in winter and a week in summer, it struck me that we are indulging in a somewhat elitist tradition in the style of the landed gentry from centuries past. We may not have any servants to bring along but we invariably end up taking any number of items from our kitchen and the intention is always to be joined by and entertain guests. After years of this routine, rather than a holiday it really does feel like we are making a procession across the Pennines moving from home to home. Fortunately there are no ball gowns to fit into or corsets to be tied.
The lodge we stay in nestles by the side of a beck amidst lush greenery with large windows giving us a close up view of the natural world even when conditions outside are dismal. Last week we travelled through rain to get there and arrived in the middle of a thunderstorm making the weather, rather than the journey or destination, something of a novelty after the lack of rain in recent weeks.
Despite intermittent showers (drought or no drought you can rely on the Lake District for those) we started the week as we meant to go on, walking and walking. In my case, however, my exercise spree was brought to a sudden end when I discovered that I appear to have developed an intolerance to red peppers especially of the chilli variety. I have recently encountered a previous issue with them but on this occasion, and following a bout of poison-like sickness, a persistent cramping pain limited my wandering.
I think it was meant to be, for instead I took up my sketchbook and pencils. Shortly before we went away I participated in a drawing workshop, learning to appreciate the therapeutic value of simply moving graphite across paper whilst hopefully creating something recognisable to others as well as myself. Immersed in my surroundings, I was able to truly observe the intricacies of the plants and insect life around me. Of course observation isn't the same as accurate reproduction, but what a tonic for the soul even if I have no doubt that all those accomplished Georgian and Victorian ladies would have had a good laugh at my efforts. Botanical artist I shall never be but the pleasure derived was still immense.
Comments
Can I put in a request now for plenty of rain? The southwest of the U.S. is so parched we forget what it feels and sounds like.