It’s been a slow few weeks in the life of Elisabeth. I spent Christmas and the days following in Iceland, but it’s been very quiet since returning to Bournemouth. I had another trip loosely planned to close out my Christmas break, but after reevaluating my budget and my energy levels, I decided to spend a chill week and a half in Bournemouth before starting back at work.
After nearly a month of travel, I had dearly missed playing music. The first thing I did upon arriving at my home in Bournemouth was pull out my fiddle and start practicing. During my last lesson, my instructor recommended I learn a new tune called Morrison’s Jig, an ear-catching Irish tune that you can easily imagine spilling out of coastal pubs in Galway. One of my goals whilst here is to improve my fiddle playing so that one day I can be one of those people at open jams who absolutely shreds tune after tune, but to get there I need to start expanding my repertoire. I’m currently brushing up on the pieces I learned in the World Fiddle ensemble at Belmont and an English reel I learned in November. Playing fiddle and feeling myself improve has been a big source of joy for me in these somewhat lonely days before work and friends return, and I’m glad I’ve made it a priority.
Working on some music!
Beyond playing music, I’ve enjoyed beach runs, cooking (lemon and garlic sea bass with honey roasted vegetables was a favorite), and visiting local spots on my to-see list. One of these was the Russell Cotes Museum, a Victorian home and gallery donated by the English couple who lived there in the late 19th century. There was a rotating exhibition that had been added onto the home, but everything else was artwork, furniture, and collectables that had been brought home by the couple on their extensive travels around Europe and Asia, and I couldn’t help but hope that my future spouse and I can travel the world and decorate our home with the beautiful things we find.
Yummy meal I made!
A painting at Russell Cotes I particularly enjoyed
On my final day off I decided to take a day trip to the Old Harry Rocks, a rock formation along the Jurassic Coast off Studland, England. This had been on my to-do list for awhile, and it exceeded my expectations. Despite it being January, the sun was shining radiantly onto the English countryside, and the typical coastal rains and winds subsided. After admiring the otherworldly cliffside for a long time, I ventured over four miles through public footpaths to reach a town called Swanage, where I stopped for lunch and a read (Notes From a Small Island by Bill Bryson) and reflected on how grateful I am to live in such a beautiful country.
I’ll close out with a short poem I wrote on a run along the beach that encapsulates the simplicity I’ve experienced:
Shell
It’s one of those days where the sand
is like a disk, scraped smooth by the wind
and my steps leave a gentle imprint—
the lightness I wish to leave behind.
The sea brings with it a sweep of foam,
and a shell or two too, tokens
from its journeys westward,
now given selflessly to me.
Thank you, I’ll take one.
