Letter No. 6: The Lake District, United Kingdom

Today we look at our second postcard of the project, and our second out-of-states piece of mail, all the way from Jeni as she vacationed in the Lake District, which is located in Northwestern England.

Seriously. Go Google Image Search "The Lake District" and then come back and tell me why you haven't made any plans to vacation there yet. 

Freja loved the postcard, loved the picture, and asked me if she could go swimming in the water once she learns to swim this summer. Hahahaha... ha... ha... erm. (I don't have the heart to tell her that the local public pool is about as far as she's going to get this year.)

No, honey. Not even when you smile so sweetly. Maybe when Mommy wins the lottery we'll all head off to England for a spell. 

So after prying the card from her fingers, we went to the computer and looked up pictures of sheep, and Eurasian Skylarks, and more lovely waterfalls that Freja asked if we could slide down when we go to visit.

*ahem* Yes, Freja. When we go to visit. Sometime in the next *coughcoughmumblecough* years.

We also looked up William Wordsworth, who moved there later in his life and became known as one of the "Lake Poets". (I did not know that!) He even wrote a Guide to the Lakes, which helped to make the region famous.

And then we added a mark to our spiffy new map! Freja insisted on doing it by herself, which meant a lot of standing on the computer desk and FREAKING OUT because she was a whole three feet from the floor while Mommy held her securely around the waist.

So that's three out of seven continents. Not too shabby!

And now, I leave you some wonderful words penned by Wordsworth:

"I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils."