The Wordsworth Trail

 Everybody, I'm sure has heard of William Wordsworth at one time or another. Even if you're not familiar with his poetry, the name conjures up images of romance and solitude.

Recently on one of our 'pub walks' we discovered William Wordsworth for ourselves. Walked in his footsteps, so to speak. The walk took us around the lakes of Grasmere and Rydal Water, as well as to two of Wordsworth's former homes. Dove Cottage, where he lived with his sister, Dorothy and Rydal Mount which was the family home until his death in 1850.

On the way around the Lakes we came to a curious tree, all over it had coins, different currencies and denominations stuck into its many cracks and crevices. It looked unusual, especially in its quiet and fairly deserted location. Very interesting, and definitely something to write home about!

 Rydal Mount itself is set in a beautiful garden. William, it seems, was a very busy man. Not only was he a poet, and the Distributor of Stamps for Westmorland (house stamps, not the letter kind) he also was a landscape gardener. Designing and tending not only his own garden but that of many of his friends and neighbours as well.

You can see why, this photo shows just a fraction of the garden and house. Its beautiful, and apparently looks exactly as it did all those years ago.

The area around Grasmere is gorgeous, the two lakes are so close together, everywhere you look is water views. We also stopped to visit the famous Grasmere Gingerbread Shop. The secret recipe is passed down through the family, only a couple of people know it!

Must be special!
The pub we stopped at on this walk was different to the others in that it was a modern style pub, attached to one of the areas award winning hotels. Still amazing food though and loads of those local ales B2 has become so fond of.

We found a copy of one of Mr Wordsworth's most famous poems, maybe it will jog some memories, and if not its still a great poem, apparently some of its best lines were suggested by his wife. Are we Surprised, I think not.

                           DaffodilsI wondered lonely as a cloud,
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine,
A twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never ending line
Along the margin of a bay;
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in a spritely dance. 

The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee
A poet could not but be gay
In such jocund company,
I gazed and gazed but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie,
In vacant or in pensive mood
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the Daffodils.

We'll leave you with that thought.

Until next time, and maybe some poetry of our own,

B1 and B2