A subtitle of this post could easily be "stuffed to the gills with beauty," which is how I feel after today. I mean, I've already encountered quite a lot of beauty on this trip, but today made me gasp out loud numerous times and, because I'm kind of weird like this, made want to burst into tears. Photos can't quite capture things, but they at least give you an idea.
On the way to my next B&B in Wales (or sort of on the way), was a stop I've been looking forward to ever since I decided to visit Wales--Tintern Abbey. Wordsworth wrote a poem inspired by this setting (and the Wye River Valley) that I teach to my AP seniors every year. There's a sad, faded print of the Abbey in the textbook we use from the late 80s, and I've always been curious about what the real thing looks like. Well, nothing prepared me for this:
with a carpet of grass and white wildflowers to boot
It's absolutely stunning, breathtaking, majestic--all adjectives that fail to capture a place so beautiful that everyone there walked around in near silence, talking very little and only in hushed voices. You can't enter a place like that and not feel its sacredness. This did not, however, keep me from taking a goofy selfie with it:
About a half mile away from the Abbey was a bridge with some amazing views of the area Wordsworth (and many others like him past and present) loved to walk:
It's not hard to see why he was inspired to write one of the most famous poems of the English Romantic period. I found it hard to tear myself away (I spent about an hour longer there than I expected to), but more wonders awaited me on my drive.
Everywhere I looked, it seemed, there was an amazing view. Which was tricky considering I was driving at a fairly fast clip on a narrow two-lane (most of the time--sometimes the line disappeared because there was only room for one and a half lanes) highway and had to keep alert for the trucks (lorries), vans, and other large vehicles barreling my way. Even going as fast as I felt comfortable driving, I was still the slow one. The locals whiz around these little highways at 60+ miles an hour. A little unnerving, to say the least. I pulled over at least five or six times to let some of the traffic pass me by and to take some photos.
glimpse of the road I was on
In spite of my many stops, I finally got to my next destination, the little Welsh town that sits just inside the border from Herefordshire, England: Hay-on-Wye. As you can see from the sign, it's just my kind of place.
My B&B is just across the river from the center of town. It's a beautiful, tranquil setting, and my bedroom overlooks the Wye River. And that's just one of a number of chickens who roam the place and provide our eggs for breakfast.
After dropping my things, I headed back across the river and explored the town a little. It's a nice walk, and as you can see, today was a gorgeous day.
View of the B&B from the bridge into town
There are 25 bookshops in this tiny town (you can walk around the entire center in about 15 minutes), and most of them were closed by the time I was making my way around. But one was still open and had a bunch set out and advertised as 1 pound each. This one was in rather poor shape, but the title and contents charmed me into buying it (it was given by someone named Pat to Grace for Christmas, 1929, according to a handwritten note inside the cover).
I'm already resigned to the reality that I'll have to ship a box home--my bags are stuffed to the brim with the items I brought and all the items I've bought already. But, if I'm going to be shipping a box home, might as well buy a few more books...
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