In Yorkshire

We've been 'home' to Yorkshire, walking in the Dales where the sky is a suitable subject for Friday Skywatch. It's a good time of year to be walking on the moors with the heather in bloom and the paths underfoot crisp and dry.

The small streams that run from the moor are peat brown. (Sometimes so is our bath water!)

 When we open the sitting room windows we can hear the sound of the beck that borders our property.

The front garden still has plenty of colour.

 The back garden had become totally choked with ground elder and on my previous visit I'd mentioned that I would have to dig out any plants and put weedkiller on the elder. Imagine my shock on walking round the corner and seeing this, a scorched earth policy! Not a plant to be seen, even the moss has been blasted off the walls.

 "She'll kill you!" my neighbour had told Barry.

 But he had toiled away for a fortnight so how could I complain. There are now two great heaps of debris (with my plants in them!) in the back garth. He had even taken down two fir trees, far too much for me to burn. It's all going to be hauled up the beck for the village Guy Fawke's  Night bonfire in November.

We had come to Yorkshire to attend the Wensleydale Show. The First Born had phoned from London some months earlier and plaintively asked if we would be going to the show. How could we say no!

The day of her arrival we drove to the station through a hill mist. It was cold and damp. The FB alighted from the train in dainty white daps and a pale pink summer dress. The expression on her face was one of shock. "It's a heat wave in London, well over  thirty degrees," she told us.

"Welcome to Yorkshire, darling," was my reply.

In the evening we wrapped up in waterproofs and walked along the road to Highfield with the rain in our faces. It was wonderful.

The following morning we woke to sunshine.

 Fine weather also for the Agricultural Show

 where we hurried to the marquee to see how our neighbour Lorraine had fared with the judging. First prizes for both her entries. Hooray!

This is the rainbow rag rug that she entered for the 'new from old' category.

 Her other entry was a patchwork quilt. She has made one for each of her children.

 She showed them to us later.

 Alice's quilt includes patches made from her childhood dresses and from Alice in Wonderland fabric.

 I love the scent of crushed grass and excitement in the big marquees. The various categories are fascinating. People couldn't resist smelling the perfume of the half bales of meadow grass as they walked by.

These little pompom dahlias were delightful.

 And the children's gardens are always nice to see.

There was another prizewinner from the village from the carriage class in the main arena.

I tried to get some good photos of Laurie as he went round the ring

 but he was too speedy.

 The display put on by the Bedale Hunt was wonderful. The fox hounds ran around the ring in response to the huntsman's horn. Each dog is known and named, their pedigree stretching back over two hundred years. It is described, rather poetically, as 'the golden thread'.

  We were invited to come into the arena to meet the dogs. 

How could I resist!

 The show is first and foremost an agricultural show and the animals on display are impressive, as is the knowledge and dedication of the regions farmers. Young family members are actively involved in all aspects of the show, benefiting from the generations of experience of their elders .

The ducks were rather stressed to be confined in their small cages with all the hubbub of the show going on around them.

 Now I'm rather keen to buy a few Indian Runners.

I walked past the Punch and Judy show where Punch was making enough racket to scare me, never mind the ducks. I didn't stop to watch. I always found him frightening and cruel when I was a child but this crowd of children watching were laughing. I can only hope that Punch has stopped beating his wife!

 Lots of interesting things to see and people to meet.

Note the rag rug at the entrance way.

 I like the trouble that these enthusiasts take with every small detail; here the traditional metal-tipped clogs of the roadman.

 Just time for Himself to cast a covetous glance over this little Austin before heading for home.