Summit - Per ardua ad alta

 

 

Per ardua ad alta

Our school motto was embossed on the shield shaped badge pinned to our hats, embroidered on the top pockets of blazers and printed boldly on the front of every exercise book. Addressing an assembly of new First Year pupils, which included me, the formidable looking head teacher gave the meaning as ‘by hard work reach the top’, something we had to remember and live up to.

There is a stone built monument on the top of a hill close to where we stay at Queenshill, Dumfries & Galloway. It’s known as Neilson’s Monument. James Beaumont Neilson (1792-1865) was an engineer in an ironworks. He invented a method of increasing fuel efficiency of the blast furnace, quite by chance when he was in the process of trying to solve a problem with it. His son, Walter Montgomerie Neilson erected the monument to his father’s memory.  On one of our visits we decided to walk up. There was a lane, a cow field to cross then a path leading the way. It was much further away than we realised, an ambitious ‘stroll’ up a hill, but we made it to the summit in one piece, just about - as my husband asked me about the suitability of my footwear, which were strong and sensible shoes, he tripped and landed on his derriere, very funny – the climb was worth the stunning views. It was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime trek.

During our time in Dumfries & Galloway last week, we went to see the Grey Mare’s Tail waterfall, north of Moffat. It is reached by a scenic drive through hills and the waterfall is visible from the road, which is good as we’re not up for clambering any more. I got out of the car to take some photos and decided to climb up the embankment to get a better view. It was a bit steep for my knees and squelchy with the rain from earlier in the day, but I’d come all this way and I was going to make the most of it. Not exactly on top of the world, lots above me, but I was high enough and I hadn’t considered how I was going to get down again. These legs of mine can’t manage to get down the stairs without relying on a sturdy banister. Oopsy, reckless me. It took ages, inching my way down very slowly, each step carefully measured. I was sore the next day but every ache was worth it.

Per ardua ad alta, I’m still climbing.

 

“The Builders” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

All are architects of Fate,
Working in these walls of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.

 Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
Strengthens and supports the rest.

 For the structure that we raise,
Time is with materials filled;
Our to-days and yesterdays
Are the blocks with which we build.

 Truly shape and fashion these;
Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
Such things will remain unseen.

 In the elder days of Art,
Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the Gods see everywhere.

 Let us do our work as well,
Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
Beautiful, entire, and clean.

 Else our lives are incomplete,
Standing in these walls of Time,
Broken stairways, where the feet
Stumble as they seek to climb.

 Build to-day, then, strong and sure,
With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure
Shall to-morrow find its place.

 Thus alone can we attain
To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the world as one vast plain,
And one boundless reach of sky.

 

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Water - Deluge

There was more rain than usual on our recent visit to Dumfries and Galloway. It doesn’t bother us, after all, rain away is better than rain at home. Driving along the east side of Galloway Forest, following Loch Ken, we noticed how high the water was, almost lapping the road in low places. The nearby waterfalls rushed faster than ever, tumbling over rocks, cascading between trees and roaring under the bridge into the Loch. It was a beautiful sight in the winter landscape of fading autumn colour and another reason to love spending time in this enchanting area.

Further south, Galgate, Lancaster, Hornby and the Lune Valley were being subjected to serious flooding.  We saw the devastation on the news. Homes and businesses damaged. Roads becoming rivers in a very short time. Pictures closer to home showed Bispham and North Blackpool badly affected, streets we recognised succumbed to the deluge.  I was saddened to learn of someone who lost everything, bungalow damaged, possessions ruined, no insurance but fortunately a caring, loving family to give help and accommodation.

     As I admired the waterfall and the rising loch, unbeknown to me, others not too far away watched in horror as flood water breached their homes.

 My chosen poem,

All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters by James Joyce

 

All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's
Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x

 

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