The flowers around Wendy's tree

It's months and months now since I have written in this blog, but no day goes by without me remembering Wendy and missing her just as much as ever. Spring brings mixed emotions, like so much of my life now. It's heartening to see the daffodils in my garden in flower. And my pot of Wendy's cheerfulness is almost ready to burst into colour. But every new bloom also reminds me again that she is not here to see it.

So it seems appropriate that there should be good news and bad about the flowers we planted around Wendy's tree last autumn. If you go there today, there is not much to see but a few bare shoots.

A little over a week ago, I went there with Sam and we found two little irises and several snowdrops in flower. To prove they existed, here's one of the irises and here's a snowdrop. But last Sunday I went again with Marie and Bess to see if their crocuses had come up yet. Sadly, everything was gone except one battered-looking snowdrop.

It seems the sheep have been feasting!

There are of course photos in my 'Wendy's Cheerfulness' gallery to record the brief life of the flowers in her new garden by the lake. There are also more pictures of the stunning sunsets that seem to be so common along that shore.

When I told Tim the sheep had scoffed the flowers, he said "Mum would have quite liked that!" I think he's right.

And anyway, it won't be too long now before the bluebells will be out in the woods nearby.

Memorial Walks

Over the last week, there have been a series of memorial walks for Wendy. Photos from the Scafell Pike walk on 11 October are now on my website. If I can, I'll add photos later from the 'ladies of leisure' walk on 10 October and the 'softies' walk on 19 October (both round the Hambleton peninsula).

Wendy's childhood

I recently found this reminiscence about Wendy's childhood on our computer. I don't yet know when she wrote it, or for what purpose, but it is a bit special and I thought it should be shared. I haven't edited it in any way.
Wendy always said she was a happy child. This helps to make it clear just why that was.

Harby Childhood Memories 1944-63

When I was 7, June Kemp and I went to Woody Butcher’Äôs at lunchtime to have her warts charmed away. Woody looked at the warts and gave us tea and bread and butter and we waited and waited for her to say the magic spells and put her pointed hat on. She didn’Äôt and we were late back to school. She hadn’Äôt done anything! The warts disappeared.
Woody and her brother lived in School Lane opposite the Institute. She had an enormous goitre which greatly enhanced her image as the ’Äòwise woman’Äô. My mum said she could charm warts and help animals to get better. She was a kindly lady who gave me my first houseplant. It died. I obviously didn’Äôt have her powers.
There were two distinct territories in the village ’Äì the Top End and the Bottom End. We Bottom End kids were a bit scared of the Top Enders. Once, when we got chased by Top End boys, they stuffed maggots and a dead starling down our backs. I’Äôve had a horror of dead birds ever since!
In the summer we children would go haymaking at Furmidge’Äôs Farm next to the church. A bottle of Vimto was essential. We would all ride in the big wooden hay waggon behind the tractor and sing on the way to the hayfield. You had to walk back or (if you were lucky and didn’Äôt mind the teasing) you might get a ride on a boy’Äôs bike crossbar.
Miss Buxton would give you a penny if you ran an errand to the post office for her. She was our infant teacher. We liked her very much. I remember her twin sets and pearls and comforting bosom. Looking back I realise what an excellent teacher she was and how much she loved us kids. A penny at the post office would buy two ha’Äôpenny chews, a traffic light gob stopper, 4 liquorice laces, a sherbert sucker, or a quarter of ’Äòrat turds’Äô (pronounced ’Äòtods’Äô). I think they are more delicately called ’Äòliquorice torpedoes’Äô now.
Mr Lane the headmaster at Harby School in the fifties. He was a truly inspirational teacher and made going to school interesting. We listened to Schools radio, went on nature walks to the canal, worked out the area of the playground. He let me paint the sky green the same as in the print of Van Gogh’Äôs Caravans which hung in the classroom. We had awful mental arithmetic tests in the afternoons and I was caught cheating.
There was a tennis court in the rectory garden and village people were allowed to use it. The tennis balls were kept in a brick hovel but it was guarded by a flock of rectory geese. If you wanted to play you had to risk the wrath of God’Äôs geese.
We’Äôd go scrumping in Bastick’Äôs orchard and Boyer’Äôs orchard (it was a real orchard then). Someone would yell, ’ÄòBlundy’Äôs coming!’Äô We’Äôd go pelting down the road, hearts thumping, raining apples. P.c. Blundy was a man of swift and summary justice.
There were two Nelly Starbucks in the village. One was my mum, the other lived by the post office and had a Jack Russell terrier.
Opposite my dad’Äôs garage were the blacksmith’Äôs shop and a tiny white cottage on the opposite side of the junction. Miss Kemp lived there. The grassy corner next to her house was known as Parliament Corner because all the old chaps used to congregate there in the evenings and put the world to rights. There was a large, very distinctive stone on that corner. It seems to have disappeared.
When I was 15 or 16 I was seen kissing a boy from Clawson at the bus stop. Someone told the Rector in the post office. The Rector told my mum. Mum said that if I wasn’Äôt careful I would ’Äòget a reputation’Äô. A ’Äòreputation’Äô was dire indeed in Harby in the Fifties and early Sixties.
I was adopted and it wasn’Äôt a secret, though in the Forties and Fifties it was considered rather shameful. No-one in the village, not even the children, ever said anything unkind to me. I was very lucky to grow up in Harby. My mum and dad, Harry and Nelly Starbuck, were wonderful parents.

Wendy Starbuck (now Cronin)

Pictures of Wendy

Those of you who were at Wendy's thanksgiving ceremony last November will remember the many pictures of her which were shown as a rolling display. I've now posted these online and you can see them here. I still have some to add, and I'd be grateful for contributions if you have any more photos of Wendy. You can also add comments, if you knew her and can tell us anything about the context of any of the photos, or can name any of the other people in them.

Update on the tree: maybe not dead after all

Yesterday I visited Wendy's tree again, and saw some tiny buds on the lower part of the trunk. There are a dozen or so, up to about my chest height, so less than half way up the tree. I don't know if this means it's out of danger, but it still lives. Maybe Wendy has worked some special magic through its roots. I'll let you know more as soon as I do myself.

Disaster has struck Wendy's tree

I'm very sad to report that Wendy's tree appears to have died. About 10 days ago I found all its leaves brown and shrivelled. Less than two weeks earlier it was green, although in hindsight I noticed the leaves seemed a bit curled up. The man who planted it thinks it may have been infected by Sudden Oak Death Syndrome, and samples have been sent for testing.
SODS (an appropriate name, that!) is a fungal disease that mainly infects oaks in California, and some other trees and shrubs including rhododendrons, which are thought to be the main vector. It isn't widespread in the UK and British oaks are anyway thought to be much more resistant than American varieties.
I'm not completely convinced this is the explanation, but I'm no expert. And anyway this may not be an English oak - apparently it came from a nursery in Holland, and when I looked more closely at the trunk yesterday I was surprised at the number of scars where side branches had been cut off as it grew from a seedling. Again, I'm not an expert, but I would not have expected so many side branches below the main crown on an English oak. But what is clear is that the tree is not healthy.
I will arrange for a replacement, but this can't be planted till the winter. In any case, we need to know why this one has sickened before putting another into the same ground. More to follow...

Update on the 3 Peaks Challenge

Just a short post, since this is not really what the blog is for. But I thought you would want to know (if you have not heard already) that Tim and I successfully completed the 3 Peaks Challenge, reaching Snowdon summit at 5:09pm on Sunday 13 July. There is a more detailed report on the trip here. I took some photos along the way (surprise, surprise!) and they are here. And if you haven't yet sponsored us, you can still do that here.

The passing year in Wendy's woods

Last time I wrote about the Hambleton peninsula, it was the middle of June and the bluebells were over. Now it is the middle of July, and already two weeks since my last visit. Then, the campions in the woods had given way in their turn to brambles. In the verges and meadows beyond the woods, there are moon daisies (that was Wendy's name, but they're more usually called ox-eye daisies), fireweed (that's greater rosebay willow-herb), mallow, clover and keck (which she more often called cow-parsley).

I've been to her tree less in recent weeks, mainly because of preparations for the 3 Peaks Walk, which begins tomorrow. My training walks can all be seen on my photos page. Many have taken me back to places that Wendy and I visited together over the years, and this has been very poignant at times. Lots of mountains carry memories of Wendy. I used the wet Sunday after a long walk over Ingleborough and Pen-y-Ghent to visit one of Wendy's all-time favourite places, the waterfall on Mill Gill above Low Mill in Askrigg. She used to go there with parties of students from Melton College. She loved the damp, mossy, ferny 'fairy grotto' below the waterfall, too, because it was such a secret and mysterious place. She also loved the smell of the wild garlic in Spring, and this was all around me when I was there. It was good to see parties of students abseiling off an artificial climbing wall and doing archery in the grounds behind Low Mill. Wendy would have been in her element.

She might have been less happy to see that the Kings Arms has changed hands and all the strange artifacts that used to hang from the ceiling of the main bar are gone. The yard behind the Old Post Office, which I rented for the year I lived in Askrigg, has been developed into a big complex of holiday apartments. I think this was half derelict with one or two houses and barns when I was there. But then, that was about 18 years ago now. Probably 20 years or more since Wendy and 'the girls' first took a group of students to Low Mill. Directly across the road from my old home, what used to be a house has been converted into a new hotel.

Even the National Park headquarters at Yorebridge House in Bainbridge, where I worked for 15 months, is now a hotel and restaurant. I'm tempted to go and stay, just to find out what they have done with my old office on the corner overlooking the ha-ha. Wonder if it's now a bar? It might be nice to sit there with a pint and reminisce about that year, one of the toughest that Wendy and I faced together. But hard times soon turn into history, just like happy ones do too. You only have to blink, and everything changes. As Tom Waits sang: "Nothing in life is yours to keep."

More cheerfulness

Just a quick post to let you know I have added some more photos to the "Wendy's Cheerfulness" gallery on my photo website. Click here to go straight to this gallery. The new additions include some pictures of the beautiful bluebells in the woods, sadly now over (though the pink campion was just as pretty the last time I visited).

More of Wendy's wisdom

I thought I'd add this as a new post, rather than add to the previous one on this topic. Here are some more thoughts and sayings that have come to my mind.

• On a walk, she used to call the contents of her pack (extra clothes, gloves, hat, food and drink, etc) her comforts. She was the only one who regularly brought a hot water bottle to a camping barn. We used to joke that she ought to take that on walks too.
• For years, she argued restaurants should have a sleep room, where guests could snooze after a meal. Wendy could sleep anywhere at the drop of a hat, so, though not her joke, we used to encourage her to write The Good Sleep Guide. She never ever saw The Big Sleep all the way through...
  
• She always wanted her porridge to be Baby Bear porridge. That went along with her insistence that any coffee I made for her had to be a nice cup of coffee.
  
• She once talked tactfully about my need to apply suncream to "that bit of your face that goes over the top of your head"
  
• She once said "I sing just like a bird - unfortunately that bird is a crow!"
  
• Wendy loved to watch birds come to the little fountain by our living room patio door for an upside down shower - especially the way blackbirds like to wash under their wingpits.
  
• She complained how boring the wildlife near our garden was. One morning last summer she went into the garden very early to hear a pigeon announce over and over again: "I'm a pigeon..." - yes, I know you are! Then the crows joined in: "Crow, crow" - yes, yes, I know what you are too!
  
• She was annoyed by the irresponsibility of the sandwich-scrounging sheep on Kinder Scout. She told one with a lamb: "You're setting a very bad example to your lamb - you should be teaching it to eat grass!"
  
• In the same vein, she discouraged me from putting out food for the wild birds in summer: "They should be finding their own food, not coming here for free handouts!"
  

3 Peaks Challenge

As you can see, I'm doing some serious walking to raise more money for LOROS. To save you chasing down the link, I'll explain a bit more here: on 12/13 July, I'll be climbing Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon in 24 hours (if all goes well!). Tim is coming too, and there are about another 5 or 6 volunteers in the group. We're currently in training, and I'm determined to complete the challenge. LOROS have set the target at £750 per walker, because that is the miminum they need to make a reasonable profit on their costs of supporting us (transport and so on). I want to beat that by as big a margin as I can - please help!
You can go direct to my Justgiving page by clicking on the DONATE button above. Please be generous!

Morning Glory

Today I soaked the precious seeds from last year's gorgeous Morning Glory plant that Wendy gave me last spring. I'll sow them tomorrow. This plant grew from a seed gathered from the Morning Glory that I had given Wendy and Steve the year before. Wendy's generosity cycle.

Golden Days, Dark Nights

I haven't written here for months and there's lots I still want to add to the blog.
But for the moment I'll content myself with just one link. It's to a collection of poems and songs by Tim and by me called "Golden Days, Dark Nights." All the pieces are reflections on grief, or are otherwise inspired by living through the last days of Wendy's life. There are only six pieces in the collection at the moment; I'm sure there will be more in time.
Sample with care, it's not all easy reading (or listening).

Wendy's tree by Rutland Water

Last Friday at 2:00 we planted Wendy’Äôs tree. Or rather, we planted Wendy’Äôs ashes and two men from Greetham Garden Centre planted the tree. It’Äôs a 14’Äô oak and it stands by the shore of Rutland Water, next to the path that loops round the Hambleton Peninsula. It was a lovely, sunny but windy afternoon, and it’Äôs a beautiful spot. This google earth link shows you where it is (if you have Google Earth installed ’Äì you will need to download and run the attached file).

Most of Wendy’Äôs ashes are around the roots of her tree, just as she wanted. We covered them with compost, and I placed to rest with her the silver Om pendant that she bought in Kerala in 1997. She hadn’Äôt worn it much lately, preferring her trademark Charles Rennie Mackintosh pendant, and her cowrie (’Äòfor valour’Äô) that I now wear constantly. But I thought if there was ever a time to be held in the sacred breath of Brahman, this was it. Jane Flude also placed a few sprigs of rosemary from her garden there (’Äòrosemary for remembrance’Äô). A little more of Wendy’Äôs ashes we took to Harby cemetery, while the men did the hard tree-planting work. These we dug into the ground of her Mum and Dad’Äôs grave, also just as she wanted.

In a week or so, Wendy’Äôs bench will join her tree. She wanted people to be able to sit on her bench beneath her tree. When you do this, you will look across to Hambleton Old Hall and, over on the far side of the lake, the RSPB reserve at Edith Weston where the ospreys nest. To your right, you should see a dark green patch of mistletoe growing from the bushes above the fence. This is where I saw a robin, on another cold but perfect sunny day back in January when I cycled round the peninsula looking for the perfect spot. The robin chose the place for me.

The tree’Äôs plaque wasn’Äôt ready in time. So in case you visit before it's installed, this is what it will say:

WENDY CRONIN 1944 TO 2007
MAY YOU TOO FIND SHELTER
AND PEACE BENEATH HER TREE
Her bench will have a plaque with different words. I won’Äôt tell you what they are now. You can read them when you sit on her bench to think about what she has left to us. However, it will be a while before you can fulfil her complete wish and sit beneath her tree. Oaks are long-lived but slow growing, and I think it will be a few decades before it will be big enough for that.

The very next morning, I looked out of my kitchen window to see the first little yellow daffodil flowering in the pot on the patio ’Äì Wendy’Äôs cheerfulness had come to smile on me. You’Äôre right, Heather, 'sunshine and oranges,' that’Äôs what she’Äôd say. But sometimes it’Äôs the happy memories that make you cry. And that’Äôs OK too.