Countryside hike

This is M! The English weather is unpredictable and the sun is rare, but for some reason, we've been blessed with mild temperatures and sunshine (most of the time!). We had a backpacker staying with us for a bit, so I took her on a several-mile hike out in the country. We packed up, loaded ourselves and the dog onto the train and got off out in the middle of nowhere. We hiked through farms, wooded areas, past a Duke's mansion (we've yet to be invited). Here are some pictures from our day out! Alt3.hough I do not have pictures of it, I must tell you about it. Ethan and I were chased (semi-violently) by sheep. Embarrassing at it is to admit, its true. Part of the hike is thru pastures and there are sheep grazing. Ethan startled them a bit and they scattered; so I thought. A few minutes pass and I hear "bbbaaaaaa--bbbaaaa". I turn around and there is the mafia--staring (you'd be amazed at their eye contact) and yelling at me, hopping on their hind legs. I left my poor backpacker/visitor behind because they didn't care that she was taking pictures--they wanted me and E. So, a chase begins and I instantly start thinking insane things:
1. Are these on the list of animals that are fast but you don't know they are (aka: grizzly bears), can they climb trees?
2. Do I zigzag? No, that's alligators.
3. Do I let the dog go and dive into the river? Can they swim?
4. If I am hooved to death, I want Ben to make up some other glorious story as to why I am no longer around.
Needless to say, we outran them and we are safe, but it was not pretty. Once Abra (our visitor) sends me pictures (and the movie!) I will post them.

Moms, Dido, Uncle Rich and gardening.

First of all--HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!  To ours and all "mums"....

My maternal grandfather "Dido" was a first generation immigrant from the Carpathian mountains.  Even as he worked to support his wife and fourteen kids in a mill in South Jersey, he had a small plot of land a mile or two away from the house where he grew vegetables.  My Uncle Rich, who apparently never cared for the lot when he was younger, ended up taking it over as a place of relaxation (he was the local chief of police in town) and some of my earliest childhood memories are of seeing him in his straw hat with classical music blaring out of a tinny secondhand radio as he worked happily amid tomato plants and such. 

I can't say this exactly trickled down to me.  We had a big yard growing up and I wasn't always enamored of helping to take care of it.  Sometimes when I was naughty my punishment was pulling weeds, which was akin to drilling out my own teeth without anesthesia as far as I was concerned. And my Mom will also be happy to tell anyone who asks about the dreaded "peony trip" of infamy. And yet, I do remember Dad gleefully checking on our tomato plants during summers, and some sense of pleasure when Mom and I spread mulch over the flower beds and worked the soil carefully to put new bushes in, and the sense of color and health in looking over a well-tended garden with healthy new trees and flowers were coming in.

In England, gardening is HUGE.  And in Europe more generally, allotments are very popular.  These are public lands given to a people's cooperative of sorts that divvy up the property into individual plots and rents them for cheap to people so they have land to grow plants and vegetables.  Months ago, almost on a whim, I put me, M, and my best mate and his wife on a waiting list, and we were just notified that there's a spot for us.  We wandered down today to take a look; it's about a four minute walk from our flat. Apparently they are trying to clear new sections out, so they are giving us a half plot at a minimal cost in hope that we will put in the initial effort to get it ready for proper gardening.

We chose the half section which had less brush and weeds to clear away, which happened to be the side that should get the most southern light as well.  If you can see the sort of grassy footpath to the left in this, that's the line dividing the "half-plots," over to the fence and greenhouses further to the right. Our section is about eight feet wide, but goes back maybe 300 feet or more.  It gets more overgrown the further back you go, but the local council is going to take down some of the bigger trees and we can make it garden-worthy in stages after we burn out some of the back brush in the fall.  There's also a tiny shed in the back that we can store tools and stuff in, don't think it shows up in the pics.

Not sure how soon it will pay dividends, we might concentrate on getting it incubating and healthy over this summer, fall, and winter in preparation for actual growing next year. 

Moreover, I have no idea how in the hell I'm going to do any of this, nor when. 

Somehow, for someone who hated weeds, to do all this feels extremely strange and yet very comforting at the same time.  I hope, and suspect, Dido would understand and approve.  I think Uncle Rich definitely would.  Vjecnaja pamjat

Espana

Well, the Spain trip was a blast, if somewhat suffering from less than ideal weather. 
We flew direct to Malaga: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Málaga
which is a popular site for British tourists.  It's a bit scrubbed up accordingly, but is pleasant, quiet and easy to get around.  We began with San Miguel beers and a giant pot of paella at a beach restaurant sitting by the Mediterranean:

The next day, rain spoiled our planned beach excursion, so we went instead to the local modest but still interesting Picasso museum (he was born in Malaga) and also the stunning cathedral:

 

 The next day we were off to Granada, a much bigger city with more cultural interest.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Granada

Perhaps the coolest part was when we wandered the Albayzin, the old Moorish quarter, which is filled with hookah bars, tapas restaurants, tea shops, and places selling tapestries, leather goods and assorted trinkets.  This is crowded with tourists, street musicians and locals and consists of winding narrow streets that go up the hill....

 

Culminating at a plaza at the top with a fantastic view of the city.  

All this culture meant that we had to celebrate with more tapas and wine.

 The chief attraction of Granada is the Alhambra Palace, a world renowned Moorish palace and UNESCO World Heritage Site:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alhambra

The place towers over the city and consists of wildly different palaces from different times and architectural heritages, plus some amazingly complex garden mazes.  Plus mini-aqueducts are built into the stairs so that water collected in vast pools at the top of the hill trickles down throughout the complex.  Not sure these pics do it justice:

Granada is also where Ferdinand and Isabella are buried, but sadly the cathedral was closed when we tried to go take a look.

It was a great experience--a bit tricky as Michelle's Mexican version of Spanish only sometimes translated to the European type (as I sat around shrugging uselessly, of course), and we also had the usual fun stuff of trying to figure our foreign bus depots and schedules and other assorted stuff.  But we both agree that Spain is a place we may have to be coming back to again sooner rather than later. (Barcelona? Madrid? Cordoba? Seville?)  Geez, there are almost too many damn options.....