Trees

Reading Sundresses and Smiles today, I saw a new opportunity of linking up and sharing photos. Two of my favorite things! Outside Voice is starting a photo-link each month with a different theme. Currently, the theme is trees, so please enjoy my attempt to find some of my tree photographs while technically at work.

While possibly not the more traditional tree photograph, this is one of my favorites, of a tree and of my time spent in London.

Here is your more traditional tree photograph. Taken on a rainy day on the island of Skye in Scotland.

From a botanical gardens in Northern England, I believe this was a fairy statue's foot gracing the gardens.

Finally, The Defunct Curator, complete with awkwardly-painted paintbrush mask (there is no photoshop here at work!) climbing a tree with the spires of Oxford in the background.

Let's Talk About My Hat

Lately there has been a lot of chat concerning hats, and for good reason. There has been a royal British wedding and then came the Kentucky Derby. Hats are everywhere. I'm glad. I've been saying for a while we should bring hats back into fashion in this country. Maybe I say this because I look awesome in hats and I wish to accomplish my own selfish goals of wearing more hats? Maybe.

I inherited a large collection of vintage hats, which I grew up wearing and still wear to this day. Only when I moved to England did I start appreciating contemporary hats and all they have to offer. They are, in their own right, throw-backs with a modern twist. And naturally I bought too many.

One such lovely is depicted above, on yours truly. I stumbled across it while perusing M&S and had to have it. Unfortunately it was very close timing to our big cross-Atlantic move and I was a bit worried about how it would emigrate to America. But, like always, I ignored these worries and bought the hat, enjoying it (and a pimms!) on the one remaining day of sun in Britain that I can remember.

Far too soon my new hat was boxed up, with the best of care, and shipped to New York to live in said box for a couple months until we could be reunited. And it felt good.

Another fantastic hat

However when packing for the 7 month temporary move to rural Georgia, I did not pack the hat. We would only be there a couple months. I would find a job in no time. Then the hat would be moved to our new location. It was coming up on winter anyway. All of these reasons failed me when, in early March, it became very warm in Georgia and for this northerner, very very sunny. I missed my hat. But, I was convinced I would soon be employed.

Very similar to my lovely British hat

 I then gave in and cheated on my hat. It had been months and no job. It was sunny. I was in San Antonio, it was 95 degrees of Texas heat and I needed a hat. Luckily I was in Texas where the hat still reigns and found a fantastic sun hat (photos to come). I thought surely my job search is hopeless and I will be lucky if I ever see my British hat again. While my new hat was a comfort, it was not my long lost colorful English hat and when the opportunity came last weekend for my mother to bring me some clothing to my sister's baby shower, I jumped on the opportunity to have the hat back in my life. This of course meant my mother had to wear my floppy love on the plane. The images in my mind from this adventure were just an added bonus.

So hat and head are reunited once again, hopefully never to part.

Punting at Oxford

Punting instructions

The Professor and The Defunct Curator enjoying an afternoon of punting-watching in Oxford.

Speaking of hats... Since our trip to Oxford last summer I've been in search of a woman's Oxford punting hat. It's similar to the man's hat but with a more feminine ribbon. While watching the punters (we did not ourselves punt) I fell, once again, in love with these straw, historic hats. Are you in search of a new summer hat?

Man's punting hat

Scotland Nostalga Week: March 20 and 21st

I was bad and made promises I did not keep. I promised to post a photo from Scotland in my Nostalgia series each day and have already missed a day. The first day. Therefore I present two photos for the price of one.

March 20, 2010.

We left this day for Scotland. As the train had trouble (vandalism we were told) we were diverted and took three trains to slowly make our way from Northern England to Inverness. The trip was beautiful (until it got dark and all I had to look at was the balding man seated directly across me.) After arriving sleepy, hungry, and getting used to our heavy packs, we promptly found our amazing hostel (it had a cat!) and went in search of food. Did we eat haggis? Oatcakes? Stews and porridge and tatties? No. We found a Turkish restaurant that was very hospitable as it was almost 11pm and gorged ourselves on our favorite foods.

March 21, 2010.

It was next to impossible to chose one photo from this day. This was a full day. We roamed around Inverness, toured Loch Ness by boat, visited Urquhart Castle, went on the river walk in Inverness, looked about in the cathedral, and visited the statue of Flora MacDonald (from whom The Professor happens to be descended.) We also found the most adorable and authentic pub, very close to our hostel, and discussed whiskey with the locals.

However, I decided to be predictable and post a photo of a castle. While in Scotland, go see castles. Urquhart is situated nicely on Loch Ness, is beautifully in ruins, and very picturesque.

Storage Unit Tease

Today is was hot. Well, for me. Having lived in England for a while and not having a “normal” summer experience, today was the hottest temperatures I’ve experience since 2009. For serious. So I celebrated by being completely lazy and taking the boat out while trying to remember how to wear a bikini.

I was not completely lazy as The Professor and I made the sad trip to visit our storage unit. Our “temporary” living situation is getting less and less temporary and sifting through my suitcase on the floor (filled with the same 15 or so outfits I’ve had for almost two years now) is losing it’s appeal (wait, it was never appealing to start with.)

I remembered some plastic drawers left in our storage unit before the move to England. It’s always a downer to drive down the road, open a large metal door, and stare at all your belongings. They aren’t even all mine. Half of my stuff is in that cold cell. The rest is in New York where many things have been in storage for almost 8 years now. Beautiful things.

The door goes up with a bang and you desperately want to take everything out to a safer place. A home. An actual existence. Oh, and you see the rat poop on the ground and the steam rising from the not-temperature-controlled space and you remember what a bitch it will be when that day actually comes.

It’s always a tease. Hello my things. I’m sorry you can’t come with me. All you nice, new wedding presents will be used one day. I hope.

Nostalgia: 2010

I’m nostalgic everyday. It’s part of the holding pattern. I had the kind of life I really wanted, urban, European, all with The Professor. Now I’m in the country, where everything is fried, there is limited exposure to walking, and I’m looking to moving and getting a job somewhere while The Professor will have to stay here for a few months.

So I’m nostalgic.

I’ve decided to feed the nostalgia beast by blogging about a photo taken last year, or two years ago, or more, on an exact date.

February 6, 2010.

The Professor and I traveled to Castleton, which is in the Peak District in Northern England, just a short bus ride away from our urban dwelling. As it tended to be, it was a cold, drizzly day. It rarely poured in England. It was usually a constant mist of wetness. A drizzle. A vaporous rain.

The upper deck of our bus was empty and we shared some stolen kisses as we swiftly cut through the Peak District, a bit too swiftly for my liking. Once in Castleton we hiked around the tiny village and eventually climbed the steep slope to Peveril Castle, where this photo was taken. It is a remnant of an outer wall, overlooking the Hope Valley in the Peak District.

After our brief hike and wanderings we had cream tea (not typical for Northern England) at a local pub (very typical for Northern England) which also served host to more than one dog (also typical). Today we will be reliving this experience slightly with another light hike here in the Deep South.