Another Guest Post: Brimham Rocks

Just like the guest post about growing orchids, today's guest post was, once again, not written my my Mum or anyone else I know personally. Instead, the author offered it to me by email. Well, strictly speaking, she offered any post related to travelling, either about a particular destination or some other aspect of travelling. Since I was given the choice, I asked her to write about Brimham Rocks, a place not too far from Ripon, where (as you will know if you have been reading my blog for a while) some of my Yorkshire family live and I spend some time every year.
In 2011, my sister-in-law took me to Brimham Rocks for a very nice day out. We had an aunt and uncle with us and enjoyed walking and climbing about (not too much climbing, though; we left that to those better equipped for it).
To my amazement, I found that I never wrote about that beautiful place on my blog, and therefore, this guest post offers some of the information I could have given you last year.

First, here is a short bio of the author:
(Note: I was asked to include the link to the vacation rentals website. I am not getting any payment for this, and the website in itself is not making any money by you clicking on the link and having a look round.)

Angela Harpert is an avid traveler and adventurer by nature. She quickly falls in love with new places, new cultures and undiscovered "treasuries", constantly finding inspiration and fascination behind every corner. For more or useful tips on your perfect vaction please vitit http://www.vacation-rentals.com.

The Brimham Rocks

Unlike the art of rock balancing, which is something absolutely amazing (look it up, I dare you) balancing rocks are a natural occurrence. The Brimham rocks are one such formation of strange rocks you'd expect to tip over at any moment by just looking at them. Now I have occasionally seen similar formations during my travels, though nothing so amazing and precariously balanced as the idol rock among this formation.

For those of you not familiar with where these are, they are located (as the name suggests) in Brimham, not far from the Brimham moor. If you have a vivid imagination you can see all sorts of amazing shapes in the rocks, from animals to human beings. Kids and adults love climbing all over them and even though this may look dangerous in reality they are firmly connected since these are rocks usually carved by the elements which only look this way. You might think of the rock as a flower with a stem, where the lower part of the Idol Rock for example is the “stem”. This is not uncommon among people who have seen these rocks all over the world. The area is absolutely gorgeous and serene thanks to its relative distance from the local civilized areas. There is a gift shop and a visiting centre on site, however they are closed throughout the week and only open during the weekends.

Geologically speaking they are formed in various ways since they may vary with size and structure. The Brimham rocks are what we call pedestal rocks and for many years it was apparently believed the reason for these formations was simple wind abrasion. As more time passed however scientists have finally concluded there must have been chemical weathering at the base of each of these rocks to produce such an effect. Sometimes these rocks are also referenced to as hoodoos. The term is geological, however the name probably originated in North America where they were compared to totems because of their unique shapes. Whatever the case people's imaginations have been running wild here for centuries. These rocks were often said to have been connected to a number of magnificent ideas such as druid worship, connection to the Devil himself and even the English soothsayer Mother Shipton among all things.

What shaped the Brimham rocks however is believed to have been the result of sand blasting the bottom of the rock in the case of the Idol Rock and with the others it was the continuous act of freezing and thawing which resulted in the curious shapes we see today.

If you haven't visited this place before this is something you shouldn’t miss if you're in the area or in Yorkshire in general. It is a nice, serene place where you'll be able to enjoy nature's touch everywhere around you. The sights are beautiful and the air is clean and lovely, so this is a perfect place for a nice picnic or some time just contemplating and relaxing.

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When I visited this beautiful place, I took many pictures. You can see the great view I had from there, as well as some of the unusually shaped rocks, by clicking on this picture and then "next" in the top right corner above the picture. I hope you liked this short excursion into the great wide open!

Gone For A While...

...are my upstairs neighbours, who have featured on my blog before (you'll find several posts if you simply type "neighbours" into the search bar in the top left corner of the page).

They are an elderly couple from Turkey, and have gone to spend the winter in Antalya with one of their three sons (the other two sons live here in the area with their families) - a wise move, if you ask me, since Antalya on the Meditarranean will certainly have a more pleasant climate at this time of the year than Germany.

Not long before they left, Muslims all over the world were celebrating Eid al-Adha (Feast of the Sacrifice), and so were they. This holy day in the Muslim calendar commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac on God's command, a story from the Bible's Old Testament most of you will be familiar with.
As is their habit on such festival days - much like what we do for Christmas and Easter -, a lot of food is prepared at home, and almost every time, my kind neighbours bring me some of it.
This time, I was given a plate of Börek (which came right in time for my lunch break!) and a smaller plate of Baklava - very sticky and very sweet, and utterly delicious!

Now they are gone, which means the house is MUCH quieter, with no door-banging and furniture-shifting going on above my head early every morning... I know they don't mean it, they don't even realise I hear their every move, and since I really do not want to be on bad terms with them, I usually don't say anything. Maybe I am wrong there, maybe not.

Anyway - I'll be gone for a while, too:
Tomorrow evening after work, I'll get on a train to Munich, where I'll be working at the "Electronica", a trade fair, until Friday evening. This time, it has nothing to do with my regular work, but a friend of mine runs a company distributing printed circuit boards (do I hear someone stifling a yawn?) for a Chinese manufacturer. The booth (and my work) is being paid for by the Chinese company, and like two years ago when I first worked for them, several of the Chinese staff will be with us. It was my first experience working closely with people from China (who, for the most part, had never been to Europe before), and quite interesting.

November 2010, Munich, Electronica

So, if I don't post on my own or comment on your blogs all of next week, you'll know why.

Read in 2012 - 37: The Messengers

This was another one of the many free ebooks I downloaded on my Kindle earlier this year, and from its length (or, should I say, shortness), I hesitate to call it a book; it is longer than a short story, but shorter than a novel, so maybe you could call it a novelette.

The author, Richard Harding Davis, was a journalist who became mostly known while working as America's first war correspondent, covering the Spanish-American war, the second Boer war and WWI. He lived from 1864 to 1916 and must have been quite a gilttering character; Wikipedia says, for instance, that his influence extended to the world of fashion and he is credited with making the clean-shaven look popular among men at the turn of the 20th century.

Picture from Wikipedia, taken in 1890, when he was 36 years old

The list of his works is rather long and comprises novels, biographies, journalistic notes and collections of stories. One such story is "The Messengers",which I found listed on many ebook publishing and other websites, but nowhere could I find its original publishing date.

The main character is Ainsley, a young man who is so much in love with a girl named Polly Kirkland that, when he finds she does not return his feelings, retreats to a lonely place in the country, where not even his friends can stop his brooding. When Polly announces that she will leave for a cruise to Egypt, Ainsley knows that this will mark a turning point in their relationship, and urges her to send him a message if she has a change of heart and discovers her love for him.

Polly agrees to send a message, but she does not specify by what means that message will reach Ainsley, and what it is going to say; she only states that he will "read it in his heart".

After a long time of waiting (and several letters from Polly which, much to Ainsley's disappointment, do not seem to contain any special message for him), when he is about to resign himself into staying single for ever because he feels Polly will never love him back, a group of unusual messengers arrive at the lonely country place. Their message is non-verbal, but they convince Ainsley that this is what he was waiting for, and he sets off to find Polly in Egypt the same night.

And indeed, when he reaches Polly, she confesses his love for him - but he is still in for a surprise.

Because I don't want to spoil the story for you, I am not going to tell you more about the mysterious messengers or the ending; just let me tell you that this was a pleasant and unusually poetic read for me without it actually being poetry (which is not really my genre anyway).

Who Won?

Not the presidential election; we all know that by now, I guess.
No, I'm on about the Cold Season Giveaway my Mum and I hosted here a few days ago.

The drawing was yesterday at lunch time and took place under supervision of my Dad at my parents' place :-)

As we've done in our previous giveaway, all the names were put into my Mum's sun hat:

And then she drew one piece of paper...

...unfolded it...

 ...and the name on it was...

...FRANCES!!!

Here's to you, Frances - congratulations!

We had this smiling cake and clinked our glasses of pumpkin sparkling wine for you.

Now, to claim your prize, all you have to do is go to my Mum's Etsy Shop (you should be able to get there simply by clicking on it in the top left corner of my blog) and make your choice. Once you know which item you want, just go through the normal purchase process - with the exception that you don't have to make a payment, but so that my Mum has your address for shipping.
If you can't find anything you want, let us know what colour, pattern, shape or size you'd like, and my Mum will knit something specifically to match your request.
In case something doesn't work with the purchase process (you know - the wonders of modern technology...), just get in touch with me by email (the address is on my profile).

This, by the way, is true for all of you - if you were not lucky this time with the giveaway, you can still get one or more of the pairs of socks, hats, beanies etc. my Mum makes, either for yourselves or as a present - she will be happy to welcome new customers :-)

The Comfort Of Sunrise

You can still participate in my giveaway if you haven't done so already - simply click here to get there.
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My kitchen has two windows, and the one facing East is where I take all those pictures from that you get to see on my blog, in all seasons and all kinds of weather and time of day or night.

Some mornings, the sunrise is so beautiful it tugs at my heart the same way the cry of the buzzard does; it was like that about two weeks ago:

And even more spectactular on the next day:

Seeing such a glorious sunrise gives me comfort in a way I find difficult to explain, but maybe just looking at the picture makes you understand what I mean.

Anyway, this is what I see when coming into my kitchen on a sunny morning - doesn't that give anyone's mood an instant boost?

There's a new day every day, ready for me to fill it with work and play, pleasure and joy - or I could just be grumpy and miserable (which is the case very, very rarely).

Guest Post By My Mum: A Sad Memory

Many are familiar with the lines "Remember, remember the fifth of November"; my family and I will always remember this date for a different reason: it was on Nov. 5th, 2009, that I returned from work and found my husband dead on the floor in our living room.

Several times I have written about this - for me -  most life-changing event; for instance here and here.

Today, it is my Mum's guest post that commemorates Steve's death on my blog:

A Sad Memory of a Lovely Evening

Once a week I go to a kindergarten, to read and show picture-books to the little girls and boys. There are about 45 kids between 2 1/2 and 6 years old. It is always very cute and pleasant for me, and, so I hope, for the children as well.

I am quite integrated in every event the kindergarten starts, such as Christmas, Santa Claus (here called Nikolaus), Easter, not to forget the summer fest and the good-bye-party for those children who leave the kindergarten in autumn to start school. 

And one of those nice events is every year at the end of October: The kids have built lanterns of paper and light them with a candle inside (mostly with a battery-light nowadays...) and then all meet in front of a small palace at our home town. A lake belongs to it, it is called Monrepos, that means "my rest". We meet there at dawn, and all the parents, grandparents, siblings, aunties and uncles are supposed to come and celebrate the lantern-procession together. 

The kids baked apple-bread in the kindergarten, the parents bring children's "punch" (of course without alcohol, a mixture of hot tea and juice, honey and spices), and we ate and drank after walking around the lake with the lanterns lit.

Three years ago, the same event was going on, and I enjoyed it so very much, to be among them all. We walked around the pond in the dark, our way lit only by the lanterns, singing songs, one dad played the guitar, one granddad played the accordeon, it was really something for the heart! And I was so happy there. 

One of the teachers drove me home, I hurried up to our flat to tell my husband about my evening- and then: He was waiting for me, saying: "Don't take your coat off, we have to go to Meike's, her husband died a few hours ago." I was so shocked, I couldn't even believe, but I had to. I wonder, how could I be in such a good mood, while my son-in-law died nearby without feeling anything about it?

At once, the world stood still, nothing was as it was before, especially for Meike, of course, but also for me.

Since this time, they always invite me to join them again for the walk with the lanterns, but I refused, I could not do it, the memory is too bad. Maybe I can manage it this year, when the day repeats for the third time.

Read in 2012 - 35: Nights of Rain and Stars

Note: If you have missed my Cold Season Giveaway, you can still participate; just click here.

It was on Nan's blog that I first learned about Maeve Binchy's death, and Nan has also posted several reviews of her books; this one is among them. You can find her review easily, because Nan's blog is very well organised - of course, you can simply put the book title in the search bar at the top left corner of the blog and find it instantly.

"Nights of Rain and Stars" is a pleasant read without much challenge or suspense; there are no gory details, thrilling murder hunts or steaming sex scenes, but some good character studies and descriptions of places and events. While it can certainly be classified as a Summer Read, it is by no means limited to that; the book can be a good travel companion, or simply enjoyed at home after a day's work in the comfort of your favourite armchair.

The familiar concept of throwing a group of strangers together and see what happens, strangers who under normal circumstances would not have met, let alone become friends, works well here:
Five strangers (one couple, the others each on their own) happen to be at a modest taverna overlooking a harbour and small village on a Greek island, when a fire breaks out on a boat in the harbour, resulting in the death of several locals and tourists.

Watching the tragedy from afar gets the strangers and their host talking to each other, and it is through their conversations that the reader starts to know them all, and, as the story unfolds, some more people from the village are added to the cast.

The five strangers are not simply tourists on a Greek island vacation; each of them has chosen to travel in order to get away from some situation or other back home, and for each of them, the trip becomes a turning point in their lives.

They come from the US, England, Ireland and Germany, from different walks of lives and with different expectations for their future.

Decisions are taken, phone calls made and letters written; the outcome for most of the characters is not all that much of a surprise, but still interesting enough to keep wanting to read on.

Like I said, the character studies are well done - with one exception; Shane, a young Irish man who is on the island with his girlfriend is depicted a bit too black-and-white with nothing likeable about him at all. While such people probably do exist, I found his character rather one-dimensional.

A lot of how the local people go about their lives is very cliché; I have never been to Greece myself but I wonder whether people really drink raki, retsina, ouzo and coffee all the time, whether they really dance to the bouzouki at every occasion and have blue and white checked tablecloths on every table.

Maeve Binchy's writing flows at a very pleasant pace, neither too slow to get boring nor too fast for the reader to lose track of who is who and doing what.

There are two bits where a little research would have helped in getting the facts right:
At the funeral service held after the boat fire, the village children's choir sing hymns in the languages of the victims. The German hymn they choose is "Tannenbaum"  ("Oh Christmas Tree") - which is a popular Christmas song and certainly not what is sung at a funeral. And when two of the characters, a German lady and a man from the US, have the word "Reisefieber" come up in conversation, the explanation is wrongly given as it meaning "being in a panic at airports and railway stations". Reisefieber literally means "Travel fever" and refers to the "itch" to pack up and travel, to have a change of scene, of feeling unable to stay at the same place for a long time.

Don't get me wrong - I do not want to complain about the book, it is just that such details bother me, and I think they are better left out (they aren't necessary for the story itself) than being in the book and being wrong.

Overall, I liked this book well enough to give it 4 out of 5 stars on my Amazon review.