Goodbye to Kent

This is the last day of my vacation in Kent. Out of the thirty-five days I have been here, the sun has shone five days, the fog has taken over the area about ten days, and the rain has pelted down thirty days or so. But, the worst natural phenomenon has been the wind. Gale-like winds are blowing even as I write this post. One cannot walk on the cliff paths in the wind. The wind howls off the sea and sweeps into the fields, pushing the seagulls into safe havens, as they move away from the shore. I must admit that wind bothers me as I grew up in a tornado alley. Wind is not friendly. It has a mind of its own. I feel like the seagulls, which have moved inland to get away from the blasts. One landed on the roof here and cried as if to say, I do not want to be here. I wonder what this large, handsome bird thought of the hail three days ago? Do birds think about the weather, or do these animals just react?

Now, I am the type of animal to think and to make the most out of any situation. And, I was here to visit with friends, old and new, which I did. I have had a great time.

However, as a walker, I have been disappointed. Last year when I was here in May, the sun shone almost every day and the weather was mild. Some of the locals called it "boiling", but boiling to me would be Iowa heat of around 95 hot degrees Fahrenheit in the shade, not a nice 75. It has been cold here this year, on the coast. I can see France at the edge of the drive, and it must have been cold there are well. In fact, as I write, it is 51 and it will get down to 45 tonight. But, the warm weather is on the way, so I am told.

Therefore, I did what I usually do when vacations meet bad weather. I read. As I am working my way through all the novels of Dickens, I managed one (out of the four since November 3rd). I am also re-reading E. M. Forster, some novels of which I taught years ago. I read two books on St. John of the Cross, and several others mentioned on this blog, and some not mentioned dealing with political theory, St. Benedict. the CCC, the Bible, of course, yet another short life of St. Therese, several encyclicals, and more.

I did not walk as much on the cliffs as I wanted to do, but perhaps, next year.

Goodbye, Kent.

Roads go ever ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shone,

By streams that never find the sea;

Over snow by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on

Under cloud and under star,

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green

And trees and hills they long have known.

J.R.R. Tolkien 

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