Prairie

The Floods of St. Ives

Firstly -

I've been wanting to say something about the English for a long time now.

Cannot contain myself any longer - here goes ...

I love it when someone says to me - "What are you like then ?!!"

My hair stylist says that to me whenever I see him - he cracks me up !!

Today - I had lunch in Ely, at a lovely restaurant next to Ely Cathedral.

I happened to sit across from a lady - now I don't want to sound indelicate,

but she looked like a potato, like she was just dug up fresh from the field.

She was an odd looking woman indeed. Her chin was off centred, she had

a teeny mouth and wore thick coke bottle glasses, which gave her eyes a childlike

appearance.  I was transfixed by her eating skills.  With every bite, she attempted 

to put a huge amount of food in her mouth. It was a bad plan as one third made 

it into her gob, one third fell back onto the plate and the last third stuck to her 

potato face. I think I have the prototype for my next children's book - "Mrs. Lump."

I had a roast beef and horseradish sandwich for lunch - please don't tell the cows.

Last weekend  we had record snow fall - this weekend it's all melted.

The above photo is a normal view to the field outside my window.

This is the same view.

One big ocean of water.

Remember this photo from last weekend ?

This was taken from St. Ives Bridge - looking out over the fields.

The same field -  I took this on Friday.

My favourite view from The Old Mill.

Also taken last snowy weekend.

My lovely field where all the cows lived last summer - flooded !!

Last night I dreamt that I was walking back to the Old Mill and

it was surrounded by water - I waded in water up to my waist.

I was really angry because I was wearing my new brown boots.

My solace is in the fact I live on the first floor - second floor to you Yanks.

It was only a dream - it was only a dream - it was only a dream.

I'm ending this little excerpt with a photo I took on Friday.

"The Chapel Bridge"

I wish all of you - a lovely Valentine's Day.

❤

Sunny Snowy Saturday

It's been something like eighteen years since England saw this 

much snow.  Maybe six inches or so !  I chuckled about the chaos

it was causing. Growing up in America, I shared my time between 

the States of Montana, Wyoming and North Dakota - where temps

and wind chill were - brrrrrr - below zero most of the time and 

snowfall was so extreme,  it easily reached the rooftops. 

Because it's rare for England to receive this much snow, this paltry 

amount of white stuff  kept six million persons from going to work

this last week and closed many of the schools. For me though, it 

meant a great photo opportunity to check up on my cows and little 

sheep - maybe catch them frolicking in the snow. I really wanted 

to sneak up on them - you know - surprise them. But I wore my 

brown cords and every time I took a step they made a funny noise. 

They heard me coming from miles away. 

I took this photo right outside my front door - one of my first 

with my new camera.  There use to be a wooden bench under

those trees that added character to the scene - it's gone now !!

Sad.

Well there they are the big busters !  White cow is licking his

chops as he just finished eating a big helping of hay.  All this

time I worried that no one was bringing them feed.  Just the 

other day, I was thinking about checking into how much a few

bales of hay would cost.  I'm so relieved that the farmer is caring

for my cows and little sheep.

If you can enlarge this photo by clicking on it, you will see

how really ugly this cow is.  He has one bulging eye that points

this way and one that points the other way - cockeyed !  Also his

stubby little horns are going in different directions.  He looks

like a crazy cow.   He's scary but I love him just the same.

I searched everywhere for little sheep - I was panicking as

he was no where to be seen.  For twenty minutes I looked 

for him.  Then I saw his little feet in the under brush.  The

cows were surrounding him - he was standing in the thicket,

as still as a statue.  He never came out and the cows were vigilant.

No photo of little sheep today.

After three hours of walking the white fields, I decided I had

best head home to St. Ives - I was desperate for the loo.  

The sunny weather was perfect for a walk in the fields, feeding 

the birds at the quay, walking the puppy dog and taking photos.

Everyone I met had a camera - even the puppy dogs !!

After my long day walking in the fresh air, I should be 

drinking a tall glass of freshly made carrot juice tonight.

Instead - I'm drinking a lovely pear cider.  More snow is

forecasted for next Wednesday.  Fun.

The Harvest

Brrrr.....

It's a cold night here in England - a light, dusting of snow

is on the ground. According to the weather girl, the storm 

is blowing in from Russia - imagine that.  When it gets this 

cold, I think about my cows and little sheep. Notice how I said 

"my cows and little sheep?" Like they are mine ? Okay - so I 

love them as much as I love Johnny Dep, and I do love him !

Hope they're getting on okay. Have not been to the lakes to 

check on them recently.  I worry - no one leaves them any hay 

or feed. Soon, I will have a little wander and visit those busters.  

I'm thinking of knitting them all hats. Tonight though - I wanted 

to share this quirky little movie with you. Grab a beer, put your feet 

up and have a look !  It's brilliant.

Best Wishes for the New Year !

I had a lovely day today, this last day of 2008.  Although it was

a brisk day, I bundled up and took a long walk along the river to 

take photos and visit my cows and little sheep.  Thanks so much 

to everyone for stopping by to visit my blog. Sending you love and 

my best for 2009. Have a happy and safe New Years evening, 

drive safely and easy on the champagne !!  Here are some photos 

of my day.  Warning: Yes, there will be cow photos. 

Sorry - I love my cows ! xxx

 

 

Bonjour Little Sheep

The very first Prairie blog I ever wrote - was about a little sheep 

who lived with a herd of cows. (see post: the land of tea and lovely) 

I captured some incredible pictures of a cow, tenderly nudging this 

little sheep, to get up and follow.  While most of the cows outside 

my window have been moved by the farmers, this herd + little sheep 

are still grazing like crazy by the lakes near my house.  I took a walk 

yesterday to see if little sheep was still hanging with the herd. 

And there he was !! 

He's so fat now in his winter coat.  Looks as if someone

has put him in the dryer - on the fluff setting ! 

Some might call me a silly cow ( there's that cow word again) for taking 

photos of cows - but I can't help it. They are just so gosh darned photogenic !

Move over Cindy Crawford - you are being upstaged by Cindy Cowford !!

I mean - look at 'em !  Vogue a la natural !

Getting back to the sheep.  Look at him checking me out !

Should we name it ? Any suggestions ?  Fluffy ?

Besides taking photos of sheep and cows, I love taking photos of 

the ancient, twisty trees that grow in this pasture and around the lake.

And back to cows again - I love them !

 

The Story of Daniel Lambert

This is the town of Stamford, and that gorgeous young woman in the photo 

is my youngest daughter, Christina.  We called into the "The George" - a

grand old hotel - for tea and scones during her visit to the U.K. last March.  

Do you see that beam high above the road ?  It's been said that in ye olde days,

law-breakers were hung from this beam and carcasses left there to rot as a 

warning to any hooligans, upon their entering Stamford city limits. I've never 

been able to verify this but you can bet,  I was on my best behaviour during my

visit - no littering,  jaywalking or loitering.  And to insure I wouldn't end up as 

bird kibble, I kissed a little bit of Mayor derriere and washed his car, weeded his 

flower garden and walked his poodle.

This spherical, young fella is Daniel Lambert - who lived from 1770 and died 

in 1809.  I bought this postcard at The George.  Daniel,  had a bit of celebrity 

status back in the day and would frequent the pubs in Stamford, challenging

persons to a foot race - the stipulation being that they give him a small head start.  

Now there were many narrow passages connecting the main streets of  Stamford, 

and Daniel, once ahead of his competitors, would use these alleys - his size made 

it impossible for anyone to get past him and so he always won. He sounds like a 

mischievous guy - just my type.

His amazing physical statistics were as follows:

Height - 5 ft 11 in  (180 cm)

Waist - 9 ft 4 in ( 284 cm)

Calf - 3 ft 1 in (94 cm)

Weight - 739 pounds (52 stone)

I've looked at this portrait postcard many times, studying his face and eyes 

and I'm convinced that everything said about him, that he was kindly and 

compassionate, was true.  As a child, Daniel was of ordinary weight. 

He claims he didn't drink, and ate normal portions but continued to gain size.  

Daniel took over his Father's job as Keeper of a small prison and it's recorded 

that he took very good care of the prisoners and gained their respect for his 

benevolence.  After the prison shut down and he lost his yearly salary of £21 ($31)

Daniel traveled to London and put himself on display for money, like a circus 

oddity.  He hated having to do this and felt it demoralizing.  At the end of the day 

though, it afforded him to have specialized clothes made and an extra large 

carriage constructed for traveling. 

In 1809, when Daniel was thirty nine years old - he came to Stamford to attend 

the horse races and it was there, that he died suddenly during the night. In order 

to remove his body from the room, a window had to be taken out and an entire 

wall demolished. It took twenty men to lower Daniel into his grave. He rests in 

St. Martins Churchyard, in Stamford.

And so it is - the history of Daniel Lambert.

Find The Marmite Contest

I was painfully homesick for America, my first year living in United Kingdom. 

I pretty much clung to my computer, checking it continuously throughout the 

day for any emails from friends and family.  What was wrong with these people ?!  

I wrote them several times a day and they wrote only once a week !  

Just because they had jobs, a life and were busy with family, was not a justifiable

excuse. I needed words of consolation, a familiar interconnection from my people.

I needed emails !  

Now - I'm probably the most rational, stable person you'll ever meet (subjective)

so this will shock you to the core when I tell you that I came up with the most 

off-the-wall idea ever.  I decided to sponsor a "Find The Marmite Contest."  

Don't ask me where these brilliant ideas spring from - genius just oozes from me. 

 I was sure to get lots of email, responding to my contest.

(clap hands and insert squeals of joy here !!)

Anyhoo - there was no chance that any of my U.S. posse would win as they 

had no idea what Marmite was. Could they Google it ? Well sure. But if they 

aren't taking time to write to me - they most certainly should not be spending 

time Googling anything !!  I felt entirely safe in the fact that I offered as prize, 

the 12 foot, bronze statute of Oliver Cromwell that stands in St. Ives, Market 

Square. Most of them had no idea who Oliver Cromwell was, let alone know 

the prize on offer weighed a few tons. Just to be sure I wasn't sued by the 

winner  - I stipulated in the rules that it was the responsibility  of  her/him, 

to collect the prize themselves. All bases covered here.

It was pure glee !!  The emails were pouring in - oh happy day !  

As I predicted, the statue of the gruff Oliver Cromwell, with his glaring expression,

outstretched arm and pointing finger - was safe.  No one had a clue as to what the 

heck Marmite was. *note - Doesn't Oliver remind you of one of those scary wall 

portraits, the kind that seem to stare at you no matter what part of the room you 

move to?  The eyes follow. Because of an oversight on my part though - the contest 

was called due to a technicality. Here is the original letter, sent September 2007, 

to all on my email list.

Dear Contestants,

 

First of all, I would like to thank each and everyone of you  for submitting 

entries for this, the first of many exciting contests to be launched in 2007.  

Unfortunately, we did not have a winner this time due to a technicality.  

The lost Marmite was actually, not in the fridge, but on a cabinet shelf, 

behind a box of stale popcorn.  And although it was a big disappointment

to the contestants, something good did come from my blunder - whilst 

I was searching for the Marmite in my mucky fridge, I decided to give it a 

good scrub and in doing so found my long lost electric toothbrush.

It was behind the celery. Had been looking for it ever since landing to 

the UK.

To those overseas contestants that wrote in thinking Marmite was some

type of rodent, I should explain that it is in fact, somewhat of a British 

olde world culinary tradition; a yeast type substance that British folk 

love to eat on toast. But in my opinion, it does smell and taste a bit like a 

rodent.  So an honourable mention for that awesome guess goes out to 

contestant Mary, from Phoenix, AZ.

 

Note: Marmite can also be used to thicken and flavour stews and soups. 

I sent a small jar to my Mum, Alice,  proprietor of  "Alice's Restaurant."  

She's been adding a pinch to soup recipes and it has been a brilliant success. 

She says business has increased tenfold and rumours have it - so has the 

resident' s sex life.  Men wearing trucker's caps have been queuing at the door !!

*note to readers:  I'm busy constructing a contest for 2009.

It's going to be  - "win the noisy old lady who lives in the flat above me" contest. 

The old gal doesn't know this yet - but she's about to win an all expenses paid 

holiday, to a surprise destination. A three way win - old lady, contestant and moi'.

The contest is open to most anyone.  Will keep you posted.

As I was going to St. Ives

"I met a man with seven wives
Each wife had seven sacks,
each sack had seven cats,
each cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks and wives.
How many were going to St. Ives."
- anonymous-

It is said, if you want to have your hair cut and styled and then afterwards go out for a nice Thai meal, then come to St. Ives. At last count there were 23 hair salons and 16 Asian eateries in this quaint market town. Every time a shop vacates, bets are placed on whether it will be yet another - you got it - hair salon or Asian restaurant.

St. Ives also boasts five eccentric charity shops. I love charity shops!! Not only can I spend an entire day searching for really thrifty things, I can get an earful of the latest town gossip such as: which shops are closing doors, the tragic demise of the Muscovy duck that was squished by a delivery truck on Bridge Street or how many joints the eighty five year old shop lady has had replaced during the span of her life.

A day out to the charity shops can be entertaining as well. I love it when the grey-haired, doddery shop clerk is bouncing around amongst the clothes racks singing along to a song on the radio. Last week she was singing along to a song by the pop group "Wham."

I think my all time favourite has to be the forboding conversation I overheard between two shop ladies which went something like this:

Older Woman: "I'm going home now m'luv"
Young Woman: "Okay, have a lovely evening then. Are you having something nice for your tea?"
Older Woman: "Oh yes, I'm making a pot of chilli con carne, sans the con carne. I've never been able to eat red meat ever since I was a child and witnessed my Nan choke to death on a piece of steak."

My youngest daughter was visiting England this summer, attending a Medieval History course at St. Catherine's College in Cambridge, and during her visit we called in on all these not-so-boutique charity shops. Upon entering one in particular, she turned to me and with a painful expression on her face, whispered "Mom, this store smells like pee!" Looking around the store with great hubris and taking in a big bucket lung full of air, I replied "yeah, isn't it great!" I hope to see the day when charity shops soon out number hair salons.

Here's a website about St. Ives: http://www.stivescambs.co.uk/

*Note to readers* There are to be two additional charity shops opening in St. Ives, January 2009.

{Post Script} This entry was originally posted 17 September 2008.

The Land of Tea and Lovely

I had all sorts of misguided expectations before I landed on this lush, green island called England. Fanciful visions of infinite curtsying, of crinoline and petticoats, and gentlemen wearing top hats. Romantic, chivalrous gestures on every street corner of stately men forever throwing down their capes over puddles so that delicate ladies might cross without getting their shoes soiled. Alas, methinks the lady has watched one too many BBC period dramas !!

Although life in modern day England is not like living in a Jane Austin novel, there are a good few traditions that have endured still. One, of course, is the custom of drinking tea. Britons drink copious amounts, millions of cups per year. And they also, love to say the word "lovely" over and over again. "That's lovely" or just "lovely" in a very lovely voice. Whenever I say "lovely" it doesn't sound as - lovely - must be my stilted, nasally, Yank accent.

I'm very fortunate to live in a pastoral area of Eastern England and opportunity affords me to wander the bucolic countryside taking pictures of just about everything. I've been obsessed with cows lately and my fondness is for a herd, the eight, who I call "the naughty boys" that graze in Wilhorn Meadow just outside my front door. They can be an ornery lot somedays, never pausing once to look up from the relentless grass gorging so that I might take their photo. I will sorely miss their grumpy faces when the farmer collects them back to his farm for the winter months.

Some weeks ago whilst on the hunt for wild blackberries at the lakes near my home, I discovered another muddy rabble of bovines, munching happily, swishing tails and pooping piles. I was halfway across the field, when one looked up from his meal and stared - dead pan stare - watching, watching, watching...

Slowly, like a gentle, lumbering elephant he started making his way towards me, his head bobbing up and down in mechanical momentum as he trudged across the meadow. Then like an unspoken secret cow code, one by one, each cow followed suit, trekking after their horned leader. At ten feet from me they stopped, standing all in a row, to get a closer look at this human visitor and to greet me in proper cow style. Moo. The cows back in Montana can certainly learn some manners from these prim and proper English critters !!

You might title the above photo as "The Stand Off"

Do you spy the little, dozy black faced sheep laying down to the left of the herd? Clearly, the cows have accepted him as one of their own. He's made himself quite at home - this little sheep - and has no idea that he's not a cow. Using a long lens, I found myself much too close to frame everyone to my liking so I turned around and traced my steps across the meadow. When I turned around and looked through the lens again, this is what I happened to capture. Cow wants little sheep to get up and follow the herd - so he gently nudges...

How cute was that ?! So there he is, the little buster - standing there in the midst of all his cow comrades. I'm going back to the lakes soon, weather permitting, to check up on him and to see whether he's learned how to moo yet. I'll keep you posted.

*Note: As of today, December 1, 2008 - little sheep is still hanging with the cows.

{Post Script} This archive was originally posted Friday, 5th September 2008.