A Yorkshire Rose

The White Rose of York is an adopted symbol of all of Yorkshire which we refer to as the Yorkshire Rose. I'm a sentimental person. When Caitlin was born a year after Michael and I visited England in 1992 I felt that Rose was the perfect middle name for a part English/Irish little girl that was born on St. Patrick's Day. Caitlin Rose. See what I mean? After recently spending time in Yorkshire together I found out that the Yorkshire Rose is named after her.... at least, according to Caitlin it is.

We spent six days with my Uncle Derek and Auntie Dorothy traveling through Yorkshire and other places ("other places" will be on another post). Our first full day in England was a Sunday. Caitlin and I attended church with Derek while Dorothy prepared us a lovely Yorkshire dinner which partly consisted of... Yorkshire pudding of course. My dad was born and raised in Yorkshire so after dinner we took a drive to see important "dad/granpa" landmarks. This is where my dad went to school, played football (soccer), sang in the church choir, joined the LDS church, worked hard, and as a young boy he helped take care of  his two younger siblings while his widowed mother and older siblings went to work. It is an emotional experience to walk the streets that my dad walked, thousands of miles from where he lives now in what seems like a lifetime ago. If you are blessed to know my dad you know of his gift of a sense of humor. Before leaving on our trip he reminded us to be sure and take time to polish the plaque situated on the house where he was born. I learned something in England. You don't get a plaque on your house until you've been dead twenty years... and you're famous. John Lennon's house has a plaque. He's famous and has been dead for more than twenty years. Dad... you don't yet qualify for a plaque.

After our drive to visit our family landmarks we went for a walk. It was one of the most beautiful walks I've ever been on. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. We didn't see more than a couple of people as we walked along a sleepy street which included two homes that Dorothy had lived in as she grew up. Dorothy shared stories of her life growing up in this beautiful place. We walked downward on a dirt road to a park that had tall, bare trees, a statue, and two lakes. Top lake and bottom lake. I could only imagine the beauty when the trees would be in full bloom. There was also a very large, old brick building that had once housed a fine arts college (Caitlin wants to sign-up). I was amazed at how quiet and peaceful it was but Derek and Dorothy assured me that once the summer season arrived there would be plenty of people enjoying that beautiful park. They are very fortunate indeed. I love Yorkshire. It's in my blood.