April 29, 2004
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Bourton on the Water, England . . . . . . . . . . Photo and enhancement by Chris Duffy
You know, it would be practically impossible to say what town was our favorite over in England, but surely Bourton on the Water would be in the running, with it gourgleing stream running through the middle of town and the lovely stone bridges allowing pedestrians to access either side of the street.
Bourton on the Water, England . . . . . . . . . . Photo and enhancement by Chris Duffy
Even though we were rained on 9 out of the 10 days we were there, it didn’t bother us a bit. We just carried an umbrella where ever we went. You see, it never rained very long; just two or three minutes and then the sun would come out again and stay for an hour or so and then it would rain again. One day we even got hailed on, if you can believe that, but just briefly.
I think it was Frost who said that good fences make good neighbors. Well, I wonder what a good stream would do for that equation.
Comments (8)
Oh, that does look like a beautiful place. :sunny:
Sorry–we didn’t mean to leave all the rain there for you! :shysmile:
:wave: I love your pictures, they are all so beautiful. I have added you to my protected list. I’m only doing protected with some of my pictures in hopes of slowing down the comments from kids who type like this…”Yo RaNdOm PrOps 4U”…my old eyes don’t like to read that kind of printing! :spinning:
It’s hard for me to understand how you can even want to be home again. I know there is no place like home but boy, these come in darn close. :sunny:
My previous blog has some pictures I took, I hope you might look at them and enjoy.
Mending Walls
by Robert Frost
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors’.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
Chris, I am absolutely blown away by the wonderful photos you took in England. :heartbeat:
There used to be a miniature village in Bourton on the Water, and a witches museum, which was more interesting but less wholesome on school trips.
Your photos are amazing.