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i have never wanted to kill myself more simply out of spite

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The Orange and Other Poems, Wendy Cope

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4 of 8 of The Complete Flower Fairies Box Set- By Cicely Mary Barker

Printed by The Folio Society

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via weheartit

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Marie-Helene Bertino

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Yorkshire, 

the green drapes itself unapologetically over hills and dales, like a well-worn quilt, stitched through centuries

each blade of grass is a tale of wool and war

The broad skies brood over heather-clad moors, where wise women once wandered, words whirling with the wind that whips the white-capped walls of weathered abbeys and steadfast farms.

Stone upon stone, the dry walls curve, snaking through the land— boundary and promise, holding strong like notes in a rural symphony echoing under the baton of relentless rain.

Yorkshire, where old men settle in local pubs against the cold, their fires bright as the chatter, steeping stories in ale-scented air.

in the cities, steel rivers once ran, industrial hymns reverberate, syncopating with the steady crescendo of looms and furnaces, now quiet, now museumed, now echoed in the soft footfall of tourists.

But the heart? Ah, its heart is in the hills— in the rough, unshaven faces of the fells, in the deep, blue-black reservoirs holding reflections of cloud-swept expanses and in the valleys, where old stones speak in dialects as thick as the woods.

Tea steams in the pot, and a slice of rich fruitcake The taste of tradition, as enduring as the view from castle walls where history layers thick and the future stretches out like the vast Yorkshire sky— endless, breathtaking, home.

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— Katherine Mansfield, from Stories; “At the Bay.”

[Text ID: Take me away from all these other people, my love. Let us go far away. Let us live our life, all new, all ours, from the very beginning.]

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(via Pinterest)

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