LWR CONTINUES HIS WALK FROM CARSETHORN

Thirlstone ?

Peepo

Let's continue our walk from Carsethorn

Oh dear the sea is a long way out

These rocks are full of fossils

Lots of shells, bit hard to sit on

This is the Devil's stone

Rumour has it that the Devil spat this out

On we go

There's the road home, I've walked a long way

Oh good there's my motor home

LWR ON HIS TRAVELS IN SCOTLAND

Oh hello Ted, I wonder where we are going today

Is that meccano in that window?

That's a nice river

What can that monument be?

I think I am in Newton Stewart

I'd better not fall off, where's blue Ted gone?

I'm told that is a Scottish £10 note

MORNING HYMN - GOD WHOSE FARM IS

God, whose farm is all creation,

take the gratitude we give;

take the finest of our harvest

crops we grow that all may live.

Take our ploughing, seeding, reaping,

hopes and fears of sun and rain,

all our thinking, planning, waiting,

ripened in this fruit and grain.

All our labour, all our watching,

all our calendar of care,

in these crops of your creation,

take, O God; they are our prayer.

(Leslie Thomas John Arlott 1914-1991)

HORSE POWER

Hello Little White Rabbit, where have you been?

 

There were only two horses ploughing at Beamish this year which was a disappointment as in previous years there was far more horse power. I have just finished reading a paperback book entitled 'The last horsemen' and was about a farm called Silywrea in Northumberland where horses are still used on the land. There was a BBC film a few years ago about this farm. I think these horses were called Prince and Tom.

MORE SCENES FROM THE PAST - BEAMISH 2012

BEAMISH AGRICULTURAL SHOW

We are off to visit my son in Durham today and tomorrow hope to once again visit Beamish Museum as it is their Agricultural show. I hope to have some pictures from that to put on blog next week. Above photo was taken at Beamish a few years ago and shows the old fashioned threshing machine. I remember one coming to Makin's farm in Kingsley when I was a young child. I also remember playing hide and seek with my father behind the corn stacks in the field behind the family cottage in Newton by Frodsham. I used to attend the harvest services at all the local methodist chapels - The Hurst Kingsley, Brookside Chapel Kingsley, Blakelees Chapel and Birchill Chapel which has recently become a home.

I attended St John's C of E School in Kingsley and at harvest time we would take our baskets of fruit, decorated with flowers to the church which was wonderfully decorated.

I would also take a basket of fruit decorated with flowers to the Hurst harvest service and the primary children would sing and recite. One of the songs I remember from that time was called 'Farmer, farmer sow your seed, up the field and down' - perhaps you remember it. 

After the harvest service at the Hurst my mother would invite people from other local chapels to her home for supper. I remember going to the Fryer home in Waterloo Lane after the Blakelees service. I was always the youngest there and would watch the older people and listen to their conversations, some would spend time talking to me. They were happy times and the home make cakes were really delicious.

HARVEST HYMN - NOW THE YEAR IS CROWNED

 Harvest time is here once again, I think it might be my favourite time of the year. When we were away we noticed many farmers busy in their fields, I managed to photograph some -

Gone are the hay stacks of yesteryear, gone are the heavy horses!

Here is an old hymn which always springs to mind at this time of year

Now the year is crowned with blessing

As we gather in the grain;

And, our grateful thanks expressing,

Loud we raise a joyous strain.

Bygone days of toil and sadness

Cannot now our peace destroy'

For the hills are clothed with gladness,

And the valleys shout for joy

To the Lotd their first fruits bringing

All His thankful people come,

To the Father praises singing

For the joy of harvest home

In the spring the smiling meadows

Donned their robes of living green;

As the sunshine chased the shadows

Swiftly o'er the changing scene;

In the summer time the story

Of a riper hope was told;

Then the rich autumnal glory

Decked the fields in cloth of gold.

Shall not we, whose hearts are swelling

With the thought of former days,

Sing a joyous song foretelling

Future gladness, fuller praise?

For the cloud the bow retaineth

With its covenant of peace

That, as long as earth remaineth,

Harvest time shall never cease

(Eileen Thorneycroft Fowler 1880-1929