Rural Roams: Stratford

The Artist and I recently headed out on another road trip; this Rural Roams segment takes us to Stratford.

Not the birthplace of Shakespeare, but the other one, you know, where Shakespeare is the man of the hour.

The Stratford Festival, founded by a local journalist, Tom Patterson, to assist his ailing city, delivered its first lines of Shakespeare in 1953.
On my birthday no less, Alec Guiness delivered the lines of the first play produced by the festival:

"Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this son of York."

I'll likely go to bed for the next week wondering if there is hidden meaning that I was born on this day.

Nah, not really, but it is an interesting tidbit in the life of me.

I've been here more times than I can count on a cob of corn. My mom was born here, my grandparents met and fell in love here, the house, that my great-grandfather built for his sweetheart still stands here, which to this very day fills the coffers of my memory with images of quilts being made in the basement, gardens being tended and games of Chinese checkers being played on a dainty foot stool.

Stratford, a vibrant and sophisticated city,

that spreads far beyond its downtown.

 And a theatre known round the world for its reverence of the Bard and the talent who exemplify his work.

But for the Artist it was a first visit, which helped me to see this beautiful place through fresh eyes and a camera lens. 

  And I renewed my love for this place where your own Magic Swan is always waiting for you.

Where winding walking paths lead you on a journey through woods,
backyards bedecked with floral tributes and past an entire congregation of ducks.

Where there are as many bridges as there are benches.

Where the beauty of nature is an equal to the beauty of the written word.

Equal rivals, truth be told, from spring to fall.

And where every guide post leads you home.

To the home, that is, of the cause célèbre.

It was as breathtaking for a seasoned veteran like myself as it was for the Artist. And as I strolled along the river, a soft, tickling breeze swirling around my neck, I caught the notes of "Let me call you Sweetheart" being played on the riverboat cruising by and I was swept back in time, more than sixty years earlier. For when I looked up, there ahead of me walked a young couple, arms entwined around each others waists. A couple so in love, they took no notice of their granddaughter tiptoeing quietly behind them with goosebumps on her arms.

~~~~

Tell me friends have you been to Stratford?

Have you ever wanted to visit?

Oh, and what did we see?

Titus Andronicus
Sir William certainly knew how to write a tragedy.
Oy!

~Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow~

 

Joining up with:

Wordless/Wordful Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday but with Words

Not So Wordless Wednesday

Outdoor Wednesday