A Truly Alien Mind?

Science Fiction often tantalizes us with aliens.  This can prove a difficult balance, as readers need to understand these entities in order to respond intellectually and emotionally to them.  If we are to see them as more than animals, they must demonstrate enough aspects of civilized behavior that we identify them as sentient beings.  Yet, to be interesting, they cannot be too human or understandable either.  Otherwise, why read stories about aliens in the first place?

In the Sutton Bank Visitor Center of the North York Moors National Park, a member of the staff saw me photographing this statue.  She told me that bronze sculptures had adorned the metal rung that surrounds the wood.  Due to the theft of some of these, the rest had been taken down, and the wooden statue moved inside to prevent further vandalism.  The artist, Chris Kelly, had worked with local school children to produce these pieces.  His intentions are to recast all of them in resin, those stolen as well as those remaining.  Unfortunately, the preparatory drawings for some of those stolen appear to be lost, so not all the artwork is replaceable.

Official supposition is that the sculptures were scavenged for their scrap value, not because the thieves intended to sell them to beautify some wealthy collector’s home.  Such stories are all too common, and to me, incomprehensible.  Thieves who rip newly laid wiring from civic improvement projects, or who take basic copper architectural details from recently built homes: while no such acts are justifiable, I suppose I can just get my head around that.  But for someone to steal irreplaceable artwork, creations crafted with love and care, that excite the senses, that invigorate the mind, that delight those who behold such creations…and then to sell them to be crushed or melted down…. 

Doesn’t that sound to you like a truly alien mind?

Pondering the incomprehensible,

Dragon Dave

Internet Links

Story on stolen artwork

The Finest View in England Part 4

Fields, towns, farms, and...serenity.

I’m not usually one for hikes, but today was different.  When planning this trip, we had envisioned circling the North York Moors.  We would drive along the Southern portion of the National Park, then head North once we reached the East Coast, taking in historic and scenic stops along the way such as Scarborough and Whitby (and no doubt some formidable Fish and Chips).  Then we would travel West along the northern portion of the Park, before turning South to arrive back at our hotel just outside Thirsk.  

As we refined our schedule, and remembered how much driving England’s narrow, winding roads drains us, we decided to satisfy ourselves with a short visit to the Southwestern corner of the Park.  (After all, we had come to Thirsk not just to see The World of James Herriot, but get a feel for the town in which he lived and worked). 

This decision would prove prophetic.  During our stay in Holmfirth, we were tempted inside a bookshop by a half-price sale.  As I perused the shelves, my heart skipped when I spotted a copy of James Herriot’s Yorkshire.  This coffee table book, filled with photographs of picturesque towns, pristine countryside, and the places that James Herriot loved best, proved a treasure trove of information.  That included, thankfully, two pages on Sutton Bank, the stretch of cliffs from which his ashes are said to have been scattered. 

Of Sutton Bank, he writes that there is:

“No place better for a short stroll—along the green path which winds round the hill’s edge with the fresh wind swirling and that incredible panorama beneath.”  

The vista is everything he claims.  Even though, on this particular day, a faint haze hung is the air, obscuring our view of the horizon, it was obvious why Herriot came to love this stretch of Yorkshire so much.

As we walked along the cliff edge, we removed our jackets, and the sun’s strong rays made us glad we had brought our hats.  The exercise warmed us further, and the sun rose higher overhead.  If only we had packed shorts!  (Actually, we had, but those were workout shorts, suitable only for the gym).  Although the temperature only rose into the mid-seventies, we soon found ourselves sweating, and stopping at the benches located along the trail.  

We had not prepared for pleasant days like this.  We associated England with cold, wind, and rain, with stormy skies that obliterated all trace of the sun.  We were prepared for that kind of weather.  As you can surmise from our earlier adventures in Holmfirth, we had brought a selection of jackets, sweatshirts, and flannel shirts.  But shorts?  

What's that saying, about all the best-laid plans?

Now I know why his city friends would visit,
and for the first time in their lives,
declare an interest in farming.

Soon we looked forward to those areas where the route led us through a stand of trees.  But then we would break free, and once more, the scenes of pastoral, country life would unfold below.  Enduring such warmth might be fatiguing, but the sights that delighted our eyes made the journey well worth it.  Or, as James Herriot says of his first visit to Yorkshire:

“I got out of the car and sat on the springy grass as I have done on countless occasions since then.  I was captivated, completely spellbound and I still am to this day.”

I’ve got three words for the view from Sutton Bank: 

Beautiful.  Beautiful.  Beautiful.

Sweating for the sights,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Purple Cow of London

Escaping the Heavy Imprint of Man

The Finest View in England Part 2

Gazing out upon Herriot Land
from a recently built viewing platform.

At The World of James Herriot in Thirsk, the museum showed a short movie about Alf Wight (aka James Herriot).  Christopher Timothy, the actor who portrayed him in the TV series “All Creatures Great and Small,” acted as our narrator.  In the movie, they showed the memorial service that took place in St. Mary’s Church in Thirsk.  Unlike the day that James and Helen (or Alf and Joan) married, this time the church looked full.  The actors from the series, including Christopher Timothy, sat in one row near the pulpit.  I found myself wishing I had been able to attend, or at the least, watch more of the service.  I can imagine that those who attended, who knew and loved the man, or had come to know him through his writing, found the service meaningful. 

“Doctor Who, are you reading?”

Hmm….   All right.

(Sigh).

In “Awake With Connie Willis And Amaryllis,” I wrote about a family member who passed away.  Sadly, due to the distance involved, I was unable to attend her memorial service.  But I recently had the honor of attending a celebration of her life.  Photographs depicted her with family, friends, at significant events or trips, and pursuing the activities she enjoyed.  People shared memories of her that they will treasure forever.  This time of fellowship with those she left behind helped me better acknowledge her passing, and left me with a fuller understanding of a soul who shined so brightly into my life, if only for a few brief moments each year.  Still, I wish I had come prepared to something to share with those who had known her best, and who thus felt her loss the deepest. 

In James Herriot’s Yorkshire, Alf Wight writes about a particular stretch of cliff, called Sutton Bank, located along the western edge of North York Moors National Park.  “This is the scene which, during forty years of veterinary rounds, I have observed in all its moods.”  He stopped here “thousands” of times, and gazed out at patchwork fields, forests, and towns miles in the distance. He loved seeing the land unfold before him, and feeling at one with nature.  Whether it was in his first car, Siegfried’s old Austin 7, or another he drove later in his life, whenever he found such a place, he would stop the car along the road.  There, with no one else in sight, perhaps not even a single sign of human habitation, he would get out, and lay in the soft heather, using nature for his pillow.  Or he would take a stroll, reveling in the serene, unaltered landscape. 

In the last entry, I questioned whether public figures should not have easily identified gravestones, so people can come and do them homage.  But gazing out upon the landscape he loved, I had to wonder: maybe this was better than standing over some well-tended grave.  For here, according to some reports where his ashes were scattered, I could look out upon the landscape he loved, and try to view it the way he saw it. 

"I know I keep saying these things about Yorkshire," he wrote,
"but this is the finest view in England."

Perhaps, by having his ashes scattered in this way, he raised awareness in his country of the dangers of overdevelopment, and thus helped preserve this view for future generations.

Reflecting on his wisdom,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

Awake With Connie Willis And Amaryllis

James Herriot’s Controversial Church

Related Internet Link

Twitter Photo: Herriot’s reconditioned car is finally unveiled