I Still Love England

I finally overcame my abhorrence of iPhoto enough to post pictures of my last day in England. Hopefully this was just one of many trips to England, because I just can't get enough of that place. It's all of my English and Scottish blood, calling me back to the Mother land. 

At Castle Howard, another great estate.

An old-fashioned writing desk, which I believe dates back to the Regency period, if not earlier. I love how it all folds up so neatly. This was obviously a man's desk.

Marla and me at Castle Howard from the back side of the house. Everything is so grand in scale and design.

Inside the domed entryway at Castle Howard. I'm standing on the second floor balcony that overlooks the main floor.

More red-roofed houses in Whitby. I loved the look of this sea-side town.

Some FAQ's

I'm interrupting my drawn-out summary of my England trip to answer some frequently asked questions.

First of all, though, I want to thank everyone who has read and loved Edenbrooke! It is wonderful to know that there are kindred spirits around the world who love the same things I do. A special thank you to everyone who has left comments or sent me emails. I have had to stop reading reviews, because the things I read do crazy things to my brain when I sit down to work on my new book. So the only reviews I read are the ones you send to me, and I value each and every kind word. Thank you, thank you! Now, on to the questions...

Q:  Is Edenbrooke part of a series? / Are you going to write a sequel?

A:  I have loved living in the imaginary world of Edenbrooke the past few years, as I dreamed up and wrote my first book. I would love to live at a real version of Edenbrooke forever, if I could. But Marianne and Philip's story is complete. You can all rest easy with the knowledge that their happy ending WILL last forever. They will get married and have children and meet for secret kisses in the orchard and Meg will eventually beat Philip's horse, and Marianne will eventually get that library organized, and Philip will tease her and make her blush while they grow old together. So, no, I'm not going to write a sequel for them. I MAY write the story of another character in Edenbrooke (like Cecily), but not right now.

Q:  Are you writing another book? When will it be released?

A:  My next book will be called Blackmoore, and it is slated to be released next spring. Of course, that release date depends on my ability to write quickly and well. If I'm blogging less, it means I'm writing more. So good things are happening, and I hope to have something finished this summer. (Send your positive thoughts my way as I try to juggle being a full-time mom and a writer.)

Q:  Can you come to our book group?

A:  You are so awesome to invite me! And thank you for spreading the word about Edenbrooke to your friends and fellow readers. Unfortunately, I have a busy family and a book deadline to meet, so I can't accept invitations to attend book groups. But if you want, you can send me an email about skyping with your book group. If it works out with my schedule, I am happy to make a skype visit for fifteen minutes during your meeting.

Q:  Is Philip real, and if so, can I marry him?

A:  Sorry, no. But I am sure your own Philip is somewhere out there.

Okay, that's all for now. But next week I will finish my posting about England, and after that I should have some fun things to tell you about--trips and events and giveaways and fun stuff like that. For now, I'm off to dream of Blackmoore!

(Not really. I'm really off to welcome my kids home from school, stop the dog from chewing up a pencil, fold laundry, bake banana bread, and pull weeds in the yard. But later, tonight, I will be visiting Blackmoore.)

England Adventure Day 5 & 6

{{Disclaimer: My dinosaur computer, iPhoto, and the new Blogger format have engineered the perfect storm designed to drive me bonkers. I can't waste any more hours trying to upload photos that won't load after a whole lot of spinning rainbow wheels. Sorry. Maybe down the road I'll put more photos up. For now, this is what I've got.}}

Driving was blissfully uneventful during our trip until the fifth day. On that day our GPS (or sat-nav, as they call it) led us astray when we traveled from York to Haworth, home of the Bronte sisters. Instead of telling us when we turned a wrong way, it simply thought, "Okay, you want to go off-roading. Fine by me." And then it sent us into unchartered territory. One road we found by accident took us over sheep-studded moorland and was aptly called "Black Moore Road." When I saw the sign, I yelled, "Blackmoore! That's the name of my next book!"

But name coincidences aside, frustrations got the better of us, and we only found our lodgings with the gracious help of a receptionist at a medical clinic in Haworth. (Thank heaven for nice English people!) After settling into our B&B, we walked up the narrow cobblestone road to the top of the hill where the Brontes lived in all of their gloomy glory. It was dusk, and there was fog, and a super creepy graveyard, and loud black birds cawing in the skeletal trees overhead, and a black cat that followed us through the graveyard and rubbed itself against my legs when I stopped to peer at weathered headstones. I was in writer's heaven. Atmosphere galore!

The next day we toured the Bronte museum and learned all about their terrible, gloomy lives that led them to write such gloomy books. Then I said, "I've had enough of the fog and gloom. Let's head to the coast." 

I was excited to get to Scarborough, where I had booked a room at the Grand Scarborough hotel for two nights. I thought it would be a great home base for exploring the coast. But the grand, elegant, old-world exterior of the hotel belied the truth--it was a mini Las Vegas for old people. There were hundreds of them, dressed up, gambling, drinking, smoking, and listening to a bad lounge singer. To make matters worse, our room was located in the BASEMENT. The window looked out onto...nothing. A stone wall was in front of it. We could hear the drunken roar of other guests through the walls. It was wrong in every way possible. This was my tour into history! And how could I immerse myself in history when I was in the midst of so much modernity?

The Grand Scarborough Hotel

We settled into our room then found the stairs to the beach, where we discovered neon lights, arcades, and waffle and hot dog stands. It was too late to see anything historical, and we weren't in the mood for arcades. We definitely didn't want to go back to our dingy hotel room. So we saw The Hunger Games movie. It was awesome, except for the part where, right while Katniss is being chased by fire bombs, the screen turned red with the words "intermission" and people got up and walked around. What the...? It kind of killed the dramatic tension.

We did NOT stay the second night, as we intended, but instead made our way to Robin Hood's Bay, which I was very excited about. It was a famous smuggling town for over a hundred years. It was perfectly quaint in a red-roofed, steep cobbled streets, chilly north sea way. Walking along the beach, I found a real, legitimate fossil (a belemnite), which I brought home for my husband, who thinks it was the coolest part of my trip.

Finding my fossil on the beach at Robin Hood's Bay

Robin Hood's Bay--the tide was out, and people were playing all over this marshy beach.

Then we drove up the coast to Whitby. In the daylight hours, Whitby has a busy, touristy feel to it. This is, I gathered, a favorite weekend diversion for locals. But when the sun sunk low in the sky, we made our way up the 200 or so stone steps to the cliff overlooking the bay, where an old church and a ruined abbey stood guard over the bay.

Whitby from the east.

The church at the top of the hill in Whitby. The daffodils!

It was lovely and peaceful and ancient. These were the sites I loved the best. These were the places where the ghosts of the past mixed with the ghosts of my imagination and gave them stone and brick, grass and hill, sky and wind. Things got fleshed out for me--important things, that can't be observed through an online photo, but must be imbibed personally. It was the chilly coastal wind and the sun glinting off the water and the crowded angles of red roofs and chimneys. It was the daffodils that grew everywhere and the absolute quiet of the ruined abbey. These were the sources of inspiration that imprinted on my imagination and fed my creativity. These were the reasons I came to England.

England Adventure Days 3 & 4

Day 3 of my England adventure began in Harrogate, which was a popular resort/spa town in the Victorian era. Now it's a place with lovely, high-end shops that featured designer dresses and famous chocolates. I tried to take a picture of one of the dresses I saw in a shop and the French shopkeeper stopped me with a "tsk" and a finger shake and a very snooty, "I do not zink ze designer would like zat." Okay, then. On to the free stuff.

I snapped this photo after being shooed out of the store. Can't stop me from taking pictures outside, right?

We toured the Royal Hall, visited some antique shops, and stopped at the Mercer Art Gallery, which was very nice. Then we walked along the Valley Gardens, which made me want to move there. Valley Gardens is a lovely remnant of the Victorian era that is still very popular today. This is where moms take their kids in strollers for their daily outing and old people meet at the outdoor cafe for brunch. I had the yummiest hot chocolate there, and afterward met some friendly older men who were happy to give us advice about what to see next. Biggest local draw? Fountains Abbey. They insisted it was absolutely worth our time, and I believed them.

The best hot chocolate ever. Sipped at a lovely wrought-iron table outside in Valley Gardens.

Fountains Abbey was probably my second favorite place to visit on my entire trip, the first being Chatsworth House. It's an enormous old, ruined abbey that was built in the early 1100s. The scale and fine craftsmanship of it elicited a sense of awe and wonder in me that I could not find an end to. And it felt so nice to be there, as far as ruined old places go. Very friendly ghosts, and all. There were hundreds of acres surrounding the abbey that are part of the monument. There was a manicured Georgian water garden that was lovely. And plenty of trails to walk and fine prospects to enjoy.

Inside Fountains Abbey

Another part of the Abbey, this one with the roof intact

One angle of the Abbey, but the perspective does not do the size of it justice.

Another angle of the Abbey, ditto on size distortion. It's enormous.

After Fountains Abbey, we headed to York, which is a city rich in history. It was dark by the time we got checked in to our hotel, so we found a nearby pub (called The Hole in the Wall) and had some dinner. The burger I ordered looked appealing, in a carnivorous way, but about halfway through, I realized the meat was not quite the same as the meat we eat in burgers here. It seemed to be from a different part of the cow. That realization killed my appetite, and I spent the rest of the evening regretting that burger.

The next morning we set out to explore York. Our first stop was York Minster, an enormous old gothic cathedral with soaring stained glass windows, flying buttresses, and lots of history. We paid to climb the tower, which consisted of 275 uneven and narrow stone steps up a tight, winding tower. The view from the top allowed us to see all of York, which might have looked a little better if it had not been so hazy.

York Minster, from halfway up the tower.

After Minster, we found the Shambles, which is a series of old cobblestone streets which have been blocked off from traffic. The old houses have been preserved and turned into nice shops, and you have a fairly glamorous outdoor shopping experience in the midst of hundreds of years of history. I found it strange, this combination of history and commercialism, and finally had to settle on the idea that history is something Europeans live among, because there is so much to be had of it. In comparison, our historical sites in America (especially here in the west) are so paltry and few that we memorialize them and set them apart, shrine-like. In England, they just keep living in and using the same old buildings and the same ancient walls and streets. It's one of the things I love about England.

Shops in the Shambles.

Oh, finally, some good food! I ate the most decadent chocolate filled croissant, with the chocolate dripping down my chin and the croissant perfectly flaky. It was heavenly.

A perfect chocolate croissant

Walking along the Roman walls.

 And, of course, no trip to York is complete without a walk along the old Roman walls that surround the city. Daffodils were in bloom everywhere! I loved the bright yellows. Highlights of York: the croissants, the hike up the tower, the quaint homes turned into shops, the wonderfully helpful shopkeeper who superglued my broken sunglasses for me, and the croissants. Oh, wait. I already mentioned them.

Next up: Haworth and the moors!

A Few Announcements

1. Edenbrooke has officially launched! Let me know where you see it. I've had people tell me it's at Costco in Utah. It should be on the shelves of Deseret Book and Seagull Book. Barnes & Noble ordered a lot of copies, so you should be able to find it there. And, of course, you can order it online.

2. I had internet problems in England, as well as computer/camera problems. I'm hoping to get the rest of my photos uploaded soon so I can share my trip with you all. It was, in a word, glorious.

3. My first two book signings are this weekend. Check out the events page to find out when and where.

I have a lot to catch up on here at home--kids to squeeze and a husband to kiss and laundry to fold and bills to pay. But soon I will catch up on blogging stuff too. Until then, have a wonderful day and enjoy the pre-spring weather!

Blog Tour Update & Giveaway

Today's blog tour stop is at Chick Lit Reviews and News.

Check it out.

England Adventure Day 2

Hello, all! Everyone here says "hello." No one says "hi." So, hello! How are you?

My first night in England was great for me, but bad for my friend Marla, who had to share a room with me and my snoring. Okay, first of all, I don't know why I snore. Secondly, I was BEAT. I had stayed up until 10 p.m. to beat the jet lag (which worked!), so when I crashed, I was sleeping the sleep of death. Evidently Marla couldn't sleep with my snoring, which I feel really bad about. She woke me up at one point, and then was googling "how to sleep with someone who snores" while I told myself in my groggy state to stop snoring. Evidently, my mind trick did not work, because she did not sleep well.

I woke up from my sleep of death around 9, but Marla was soundly sleeping, and I felt bad waking her up, considering the snoring and all. So I went back to sleep, and the next time I opened my eyes, it was 10:50!!! I shot out of bed and said, "Marla, what time was checkout?" And she screamed and jumped out of bed. We called the front desk and asked them for an extra half hour (check out was at 11:00) and then scrambled to throw everything into suitcases and get dressed. When we asked the lady at the front desk if breakfast was over, she gave us this look of complete incredulity (which the British are QUITE good at), and said, "Yes, it is," and looked at us as if we were crazy. I'm sure she was thinking, "Lazy Americans!" But seriously--we had an exhausting day. So with no breakfast, we jumped into the rental car and were on our way.

We drove through the Derbyshire dales, which is very hilly country. The sky was just a little foggy--not cloudy, but not sunny--the hills were dotted with sheep and criss-crossed with stacked stone walls, and the grass was green green green. The trees were all leafless, but there were bunches of bright yellow daffodils everywhere. It was so lovely. At one point Marla yelled, "pull over here!" and I, the expert driver that I am, swiftly and safely pulled into a parking lot next to an inn. It was a little "pay and display" parking lot overlooking a lovely valley that was a starting point for lots of walking trails. We got our cameras, locked the car, and headed for a trail.

I think England must be a very healthy place to live, especially if you're elderly, because we saw all sorts of people--mostly middle-aged and elderly, who were walking these trails with their walking poles and their very well-behaved dogs. It was so refreshing to get some exercise, and the air was the perfect temperature for it. It was cool enough that even when I was huffing up a steep trail, I wasn't overly hot. After our impromptu walk, (which lasted about 45 minutes), we got back into the car and finished our drive to Chatsworth House.

This is the bridge (or viaduct) that inspired our hike. We walked along it, then down into the valley below.

Our impromptu hike.

A farmhouse tucked into the valley where we hiked.

Every building in the country looks this old and crumbly. It's perfectly charming.

Oh, if I could have imagined Chatsworth House before, I would have modeled Edenbrooke after it! It was so grand, so elegant, so vast and impressive in every way. It was so like Downton Abbey. I can't describe it well enough to do justice to it--you will just have to see the pictures.

The front view of Chatsworth House.

You drive over this little bridge to get to the house entrance.

Dome roof over the portrait gallery.

Part of the portrait gallery in Chatsworth House. It was too large to capture it all--it stretches over three walls and three stories.

There is a statue gallery just filled with fine statues. I liked this portrayal of a lady thinking of her love.

I love this lion.

Formal dining room at Chatsworth house. Again, it's rather dark, but you can't mistake the elegance.

First thing you see as you enter Chatsworth house. It's rather dark, but the walls and ceilings are covered with paintings.

The carriage house on the Chatsworth estate.

I thought of my kids when I saw this statue in the garden. It's a rabbit playing a tambourine, I believe.

Chatsworth house from the back.

This little village and church are within the Chatsworth estate.

We arrived in Harrogate around 8 p.m. Oh, and let's mention the food. After no breakfast, I ate lunch at 3 p.m. at Chatsworth House. It was a nasty meat pie, which was lamb and mint. I thought it would be little chunks of lamb, but instead it was little chunks of potato and carrot with a huge BALL of lamb right in the middle of the pie. When I got to the ball of meat, I couldn't do it. It looked woolly. So I chucked it. But when we got to Harrogate we found a grocery store and loaded up on fruit and yogurt and cheese and vegetables. Now I'm doing better in the food department.

The meat pie that I chucked.

And now, I'm off on another day's adventures, this time in the lovely town of Harrogate. I will post more this evening if I can! Cheerio!

England Adventure Day 1

I am almost too tired to write a coherent post, but I will try. Thirteen hours on a plane, jet lag, nervous driving down perilous country roads, screaming as cars zoomed past much too close, etc. That's how the morning went.

But now let's move on to the good stuff. We stopped for lunch at a pub in a little town called Disley, which is significant because it is home to Lyme Park, which is home to the Pond Scene from the A&E version of Pride & Prejudice—you know, where Colin Firth comes out of the pond dripping wet, much to the dismay of Elizabeth Bennet. Lyme Park is THAT house. Pemberley—the outdoor shots of it, at least.

            
After eating some piping hot fish and chips, we walked about 3 miles to Lyme Park (we didn’t know it would be that far). The house itself was beautiful, but a little dark and ornate inside for my tastes. The gardens and estate are where it really shines. I’ll let those speak for themselves.

Royal Mail delivery bikes in Disley

It's already spring in northern England

This is called the Cage. It was used as a jail back in the day.

I love the giant skeletal trees among the green grass.

Charming mossy fountain.

Lyme Park

          

Hills of Derbyshire

This is where we did not eat lunch. 

In another month, these gardens will be stunning, I am sure. 

Side view of Lyme Park

Entrance to Lyme Park

Inside the courtyard, an entrance to the house itself. I believe Colin Firth bounded down these very steps.

Isn't this a charming setting for a tea party?

            
Tomorrow we’ll be visiting another grand house and hiking around the peak district. The countryside in the north is hilly, green, sheep-dotted, and deliciously cool. I am a reluctant driver, but when a tour guide at Lyme Park learned that we had driven into Macclesfield, where our hotel is, she was shocked. She wouldn’t even drive these roads willingly, she said. So if the locals are afraid of it, then I should win a medal for doing it.

            


The jet lag is making my head fuzzy. I’ll sign off for now. Until tomorrow! (As long as we can find a place with internet.)