A sacred struggle

Words fail to adequately express my thoughts so often, and this is one of those times. But I promised Phil that I would write this post. So for my mom and Phil who want to know what it was like for me to endure 3 performances in one weekend with a broken leg and coccyx, here are the nitty gritty details. For the rest of you, the pictures are at the end. ;)

Whoever decided that the phrase "Break a leg!" should be the stagey way of wishing someone a great performance obviously never broke their leg, let alone tried to perform with one. As one might expect, I got that a lot last weekend as I participated in all 3 performances of Rob Gardner's Lamb of God. 

It was an incredibly humbling, edifying, and refining experience to be both in excruciating pain and immense joy as I pushed my body to its limits just a week after surgery. But I apparently have a need to be seen as strong, brave, resilient to pain... basically your typical superwoman complex. haha In actuality I'm more independent, stubborn, and slightly insane than anything else. Either way, I'd already sacrificed too much time, energy, effort, and money for my participation in the show to not follow through. The weekend I'd been looking forward to for MONTHS was finally here and I refused to allow something as trite as a broken leg and coccyx to keep me home. And I'm so very glad that I didn't! The weekend did not go as I'd imagined it would over the last 6 months... It was much harder, more painful than I would've hoped. But I did it. And it was nothing short of a personal miracle.

Friday proved to be the hardest bit of the weekend, as I was already exhausted and in a lot of pain by the time we arrived in Watford. However, everyone was so kind in offering to help in any way that the day was full of love and tender mercies. I really hated being *that person* that needed constant help or attention--made all the more disagreeable by the fact that I hate asking for help or being the center of attention. With this in mind, I usually always started off doing things by myself, but within minutes someone would be there (usually my friend, Kynna, bless her!) offering to help. It was incredibly humbling, not just the needing and receiving help, but also the incredible love and kindness which I felt from others as they offered it. Truly it was an answer to prayer for so many to anticipate my needing help without me ever asking, or helping me even when I told them I could do it on my own (Because the humbling reality was--and unfortunately still is--that I currently CAN'T do it all on my own). And so I felt an outpouring of His love as well.

Oddly enough, one of my favorite parts of the weekend was during Friday's second technical rehearsal, which I skipped. I'd had my leg down for far too long and my brave face was crumbling. So I went to the back of the hall and laid on a pew in the chapel with my leg propped up on pillows. An ice pack, ear plugs, and eye mask helped complete my ensemble of total slacker. I didn't sleep, but I did get some much needed rest. But that wasn't the part I liked best. haha My favorite part was the opportunity to hear the choir and orchestra from the very back of the hall. They sounded absolutely incredible. Truly breathtaking. And I'm not just saying that. Really, it moved me to tears. Especially as they rehearsed "Fill My Soul with Peace," which was our encore number. It was as if the words were taken directly from my soul into a prayer and then put to music. The other part that particularly resonated with me was the choir part from "Gethsemane," where we sing in Aramaic a part of the Savior's plea to not have to endure so much pain. In that moment the Spirit testified to my heart yet again that any and all pain I experience is known and understood personally and perfectly by my Savior. I've never doubted that, but Heavenly Father is merciful, and He knew that was exactly the peace and encouragement I needed to help me get through the rest of the day, let alone the weekend and the next few months of my recovery.

About an hour before our pre-performance warm-up, my friend Jon organized a group to read the Easter story in Matthew. Even though we didn't have time to discuss what we were reading, that helped me so much in mentally and spiritually preparing for the performance. Once again that bit of the story in Gethsemane touched my soul as the Spirit reminded me of the peace and strength which I'd received earlier.

Because I had to go up some stairs onto the stage, I headed up a few minutes early--sitting on a chair backstage by myself before the rest of the choir came up. These few minutes to myself became another favorite part of my "performance routine" (if you can call 3 performances a routine... haha). It  provided the perfect opportunity to pray and reflect upon my testimony which I was about to bear through song to another audience. It also was a private moment of inviting the Spirit to bear His own sacred witness to me throughout the performance. In this way, each performance became both a testimony received and a testimony borne, continuing to strengthen and solidify what I've known since before I can remember: Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the Savior of the World. He set a perfect example for me, clearly showing the only path that leads me back to live with my Heavenly Father again. He took upon Himself all Sin, Pain, Grief, Sickness, etc. so that I might never have to walk that path alone. He broke the bands of death so that my family can be together forever. He rose again so that I might be more than conqueror, even perfected in Him. Truly there is no greater hope, no deeper love than this.

Each of the three performances were incredible, the Spirit palpably filling the hall each time. I cried during all of them, but at different parts in each. My favorite song changes depending on my mood or circumstances, but without a doubt a constant favorite is the orchestral part during "At the Sea of Tiberias," when Peter realizes it is the Savior on shore so he jumps in and swims to Him. I developed a special relationship with Peter when I lived in Israel a few years ago, and this story became one of my favorites then because I relate to Peter's feelings so deeply. The way Rob Gardner wrote that orchestral crescendo is a perfect musical depiction of how I envisage that moment--not just for Peter, but for me, too.

The weekend may not have gone how I'd imagined, but in some ways I'm so glad it didn't. I had to rely on my Heavenly Father, my Savior, my friends, and perfect strangers to make it through the weekend in a way that made the redeeming,hope-filled message of Easter so much more personal. I was constantly needing to be lifted up, both physically and mentally, which became a uniquely edifying and refining process. So perhaps performing with a broken leg can be good luck after all.

I promise I'm up there. I'm just sitting down and in the dark, so I was only visible during one song of the performance... which was fine by me because then I could cry most any time I wanted. haha

Told you I was there! This is the only part the audience got a good look at my cast, but hopefully it wasn't too distracting.

My eyes aren't closed, promise. I'm just looking down because the spotlight was shining directly into my eyes and I didn't want to make a weird squinty face during the only time I'm visible. haha

Phil Siu, one of the producers, and our conductor... just one of the many individuals who helped make this whole thing happen and happen right. Thanks for everything, Phil!

Cast shot, just to prove that I really *DO* have one.

Girls from my ward who were all involved in the show. Sarah, in the center, is one of my housemates. Kynna, on the far right, was my "Go-for" girl this weekend--aka an angel straight from heaven. 

The Birmingham bunch who participated. From left to right: Sarah (violin), Chris (bass), Jon (bass, solo as "False Witness"), Tina (1st alto), Lucy (cello, solo), Sarah (2nd soprano), me (1st alto), and Kynna (tenor alto). Not pictured: Camie (2nd soprano). 

"Let us prove them now herewith."

It's been a ridiculously busy 2 months, which is why I haven't posted in so long. But since now I'm being bombarded with messages about my recent dip into acrobatics, I decided a blogpost would be the best way to share what happened and then those who care can get all the info they want, straight from me. It's been like a bad but very entertaining game of 'Telephone' hearing all the stories that people have heard. So without further adieu:

I got home Wednesday morning from my trip to Idaho. I WAS SUPER TIRED. Unpacked a bit, took a 4hr nap, and went to bed around 11pm. I had my alarm set for 10:30am, but when it went off I was still too tired to move, so I slept until noon. I don’t even remember the last time I slept that many hours in 3 nights let alone in 1. I knew that once March was over my body was going to collapse for a few days, but I had been banking on my time in Idaho being a good place to recoup. Although that trip is a post for another day, let's just say that it wasn't the relaxing vacation I'd been expecting. So I just figured that my body was playing catch up for all the sleep I'd been missing throughout March on top of my jet lag.

Anyway, about 1:30 pm I ate some food. Eggs and hot chocolate, since I hadn't gotten groceries yet. But I was still feeling much too tired to do anything, so I decided I’d just relax and not worry about being ‘productive’. So I watched some West Wing. While I was watching I would have waves of lightheadedness and dizziness come over me, but I just thought it was the jet lag/exhaustion... and who knows, maybe it was?

At about 5:30 I decided I had been as lazy as I could stand and needed to take a shower. So I got my stuff together and headed downstairs to the bathroom with my towels in hand. I got really dizzy and slipped on the stairs. But it felt like someone shoved me down really hard so I just landed directly on one step, then slid one or two more. Not sure which guardian angel I had helping me not tumble all the way down, but I’m REALLY grateful I didn’t. A broken tailbone is an uncomfortable yet very small price to pay for a whole neck. :)

Well, I was in a LOT of pain from falling on the stairs and I started seeing stars so I got to the kitchen and leaned against the counter for a couple minutes catching my breath and trying to breathe through the pain. That’s when I got really nauseous and realized I might pass out so I thought I should sit down. I should’ve sat down on the kitchen floor but I thought I should get in the shower because the hot water might help with the pain. So I decided to head into the bathroom.

I made it about 2-3 steps and blacked out in the doorway of the bathroom. I kinda came to as I was hitting the floor, and it felt like someone had pulled me down. It was pretty miraculous that I fell in the only position I could've without hitting my head. All I remember is a searing pain shooting up my left leg and thinking that something was wrong bc I was SO dizzy and couldn’t quite pull myself together. I managed to yell for Sarah (my housemate), and good thing that she was home. I have no idea what I would’ve done without her!

I couldn’t stand, which I was too dizzy to do anyway, so I crawled to the couch in the living room, a couple feet away from me. It was a lot harder than I thought it’d be. I thought I may have dislocated my ankle bc it really felt like it needed to pop and my knee felt jarred pretty good. Sarah wasn't sure what to do, nor was I. I still couldn't focus or think clearly. The only thing I could think was "Call the Woolseys." So I had Sarah call Elder and Sister Woolsey, who are the missionary couple serving with the Young Single Adults at church. They were on their way back from Wales, but they called a member of the ward who is a doctor. He and his son came a while later to give me a blessing, and then he looked at my foot. He thought I may have broken one of my metatarsals because I had an unusual hard bump on it. 

So he convinced me to go to the emergency room, and he dropped me and sarah off there around 7:30. After about 4 hrs and lots of tests and X-rays, the dr came in and said I had a spiral fracture to my fibula and that my tibia and fibula had both shifted over the ankle joint. So after a couple more hours, the orthopedic dr came in and said I’d have to have surgery to reset the joint and put a metal plate in to set the fracture. So I sent Sarah and the Woolseys (who had shown up a few hours before) home and I was whisked away to Ward 410 where they kept me for the next 4 days.

I had surgery Friday morning, which was pretty miraculous for them to have an opening so soon. I had 3 roommates... average age of about 90, all who had fallen and broken their hips. It seemed a bit ironic that I was put into the ward with all the elderly people... haha I got a good kick out of that. I did not, however, enjoy the snoring, the sleep talking, the hearing aid singing melodies that were supposed to be my bedtime lullabies. So I’m VERY grateful to be home!

Sarah set up a nice little sick bay in our living room for me before she left for home this weekend. I had to miss the final Lamb of God rehearsal, but I'm going to the performances this next weekend come hell or high-water. I refuse to let this little bump in the road derail all my plans. I reject all pity parties and anyone trying to feel sorry for me. It's a broken leg. I'm aware how lucky I am that it's *just* a broken leg, too. So while empathy, visits, and even gifts are welcome (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), the phrase "Poor Dana" will get you kicked out of Poole House. Deal? Ok. Glad we got that cleared up.

Call it stubbornness, willpower, sheer grit or whatever you want. But I'm looking at it as a gift of the Spirit, faith, grace, confidence, humble pride. It is the only thing helping me maintain any semblance of my sanity. I am completely confident that I can handle this, because I know if I couldn't Heavenly Father would've spared me. And honestly, since I'm living my dream life, I feel like a broken leg is a relatively small challenge that warrants zero complaining. I've had a pretty smooth ride the last few months, so it was probably time God gave me a challenge. So Bring It On. Come What May and LOVE IT. 

So if you ever hear me complaining, just remind me that I can do hard things. Because I know I can. And I can certainly do this one. I'm still working out all the details of how to move forward with school, dissertation, and regular life, but that will take some time. There are going to be some hard moments and maybe even some hard days over the next few months of recovery. It will be frustrating, humbling, refining, uplifting-- But never impossible.

I just might need you to remind me of that sometimes.

Humble Pride

Today I feel like Ammon at the end of his 14 year mission among the Lamanites. I find myself feeling this way a lot recently.

"And now, I ask, what great blessings has he bestowed upon us? Can ye tell? Behold, I answer for you..." (Alma 26:2-3)

An opportunity to apply for a full scholarship to an intensive summer school program arose in my department at the University... they announced that they could sponsor one PhD student and one Masters student, and all who were interested were invited to apply. By the end there were 11 people from my program all competing for the one scholarship. I was hesitant to apply for several reasons, but ultimately my mother convinced I should. At about midnight on Sunday night. So I looked at the email again giving the brief instructions, and I realized the application was due at 9am Monday (yesterday)... as in I had 8 hours to do it. So I worked on my essay for about 30 minutes and sent it off at about 2am. This afternoon, I received an email telling me that I was chosen as the full scholarship recipient. I had to read the email about 3-4 times before it actually sunk in. I'm so flabbergasted I don't even know what to do with myself.

Did I mention that the program is at the University of Antwerp? As in BELGIUM! So I'll be going to Belgium for the first 2 weeks of June... and then the week after I'll probably be leaving on my summer fieldwork for my dissertation, which I'm currently planning to do in Kenya.

I really don't even recognize my life right now. It is unbelievable. Who am I?

I asked the BFF that when I gave her the news this afternoon. Her response: "You are freaking Dana René Blackburn, and you are literally living the dream." She's right. I am living the dream. My dream. God keeps pouring out these miracles and tender mercies in my life, and I have yet to really comprehend why that is. But for now I'm too busy basking in overwhelming love, gratitude, and joy for my Heavenly Father.

"I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom; but behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in my God. Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever.

"Therefore, let us glory, yea, we will glory in the Lord; yea, we will rejoice, for our joy is full; yea, we will praise our God forever. Behold, who can glory too much in the Lord? Yea, who can say too much of his great power, and of his mercy, and of his long-suffering towards the children of men? Behold, I say unto you, I cannot say the smallest part which I feel. 

"Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold, the Lord comforted us, and said: Go... and bear with patience thine afflictions, and I will give unto you success.

 "Now have we not reason to rejoice? Yea, I say unto you, there never were men that had so great reason to rejoice as we, since the world began; yea, and my joy is carried away, even unto boasting in my God; for he has all power, all wisdom, and all understanding; he comprehendeth all things, and he is a merciful Being, even unto salvation, to those who will repent and believe on his name.

"Now if this is boasting, even so will I boast; for this is my life and my light, my joy and my salvation, and my redemption from everlasting wo.... yea, I say, blessed be the name of my God, who has been mindful of us, wanderers in a strange land.

 "Now my brethren, we see that God is mindful of every people, whatsoever land they may be in; yea... and his bowels of mercy are over all the earth. Now this is my joy, and my great thanksgiving; yea, and I will give thanks unto my God forever. Amen." 

(Alma 26:12-13, 16, 27, 35-37)

Amen, Ammon. AMEN.

I love love.

Love.

It's a beautiful thing.

It's one of the main reasons why Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday. Another reason is because growing up my mom always made a big deal out of it. A typical Valentine's Day growing up would go something like this:

• My mom's specialty hot breakfast: heart-shaped pancakes with berries and cool whip and/or chocolate chips, eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast, hot chocolate... the WORKS. 
• A Valentine present on each of our seats... mine was normally a pair of V-day socks. Yes... I now own a plethora of V-day socks. 
• An envelope full of candy and some money (about $5 usually) from my grandmother, who lived with us.
• Delicious packed lunches complete with our favorite candy or homemade goodies. Of course our sandwiches would be heart-shaped. And they ALWAYS included a love note from my mom.
• Homemade goodies (normally chocolate chip cookies or something like that) waiting for us when we got home from school as a snack to tie us over til dinner.
• A fancy dinner which we ate in the dining room (the only other time we ate in there was on Thanksgiving, so you KNEW it was a big deal. haha)... sometimes steak or roast or something a bit fancier than what we usually had.
• Delicious desserts... normally something chocolatey and something fruity.
• Raspberries. I remember lots of raspberries on Valentine's Day, which we didn't have very often bc they're so expensive. I love raspberries. For this fact alone, Valentine's Day was bound to be my favorite.

It's pretty obvious now why Valentine's Day would be my favorite holiday, right?

Well, I always initiate new roommates into celebrating Valentine's Day 'Blackburn style' as it were. Sarah and Chloe were the lucky participants this year. They loved it, obviously.

We made homemade pizza for dinner... DELISH. Even managed to make one heart-shaped.

Sarah concentrating on perfectly placing the toppings.

After devouring our dinner we proceeded to play Valentine Scrabble, meaning that all the words had to somehow relate to Valentine's Day or love in someway... it was hard. But so fun! And I FINALLY won a game of scrabble. haha Not that you'd know that by my latest attempt...

The final board shot

We finished off the night by watching Some Like It Hot, which is an old black and white Marilyn Monroe movie. Hilarious! I love old movies, and this one is in my top 10, so I was glad to introduce the girls to it.

After the movie I gave the girls their Valentines which I'd gotten on my trip: scarves (obviously pink) and chocolate, along with funny V-day cards.

Friday morning I woke up and found that my food cupboard had been heart attacked by Sarah, with a few puns thrown in for added pleasure. Friday evening Chloe gave me a cute jar full of crafty notes that she'd made of things she loves about me, or memories we've made together.

It really was a delightful celebration of love, and I was happy that they got into it with me. Because, really,
What's not to love about love?

Family History Trip: Day 3 Cromford

I had to leave Cromford the next morning because I had a class to get back for that afternoon. It was another gorgeous day and it was SO HARD to leave. I just wanted to spend the whole day exploring, especially since I didn't get to see much of Matlock the day before. But I took a leisurely stroll around some of the castle grounds and enjoyed the sunshine before walking to the train station. I really am going back as soon as I can.

Willersley Castle, where I stayed

Family History Trip: Day 2 Matlock

The second day of my trip I took the train a couple miles north to Matlock. I think Heavenly Father knew I would spend the ENTIRE day in the records office, so He didn't really bother about the weather. It was cold and rainy and incredibly windy... so business as usual really.

From about 9:30-16:00 I squinted over microfiches going through the original records of the area from the 17th and 18th centuries. I really loved it, but it was definitely painstaking at times. One of the employees printed out lists of Waltons during the time period, and between that and the information I found in the records I've almost completely pieced together another 5 generations back in the family line! There is still some confusion on which woman was the step-mother and which woman was the wife, since this man and his father both had the same name and both couples married within 3 years of each other. Helpful. You'd think they could specify in the records, but no. I have a gut feeling I know which woman married which man, but I need records to verify. So next time I go up I'll look through land records, wills, copyholds, etc. and hopefully be able to find SOMETHING more specific. These are the mysteries and puzzles that make family history so exciting, and also make it a lot of work. So worth it, though!

The funniest part of the day was when an older couple sat down next to me and asked if I was Mormon... I think what they really meant was "You are the youngest one in here by several decades, and there is only one explanation for why someone your age would be working on Family History... must be Mormon." haha We had a nice little chat though, and they told me where to stop for dinner before heading back to Cromford.

Because it was getting dark by the time I left, I wasn't able to see St. Giles parish church or the cemetery there, so I don't really have any pictures from Matlock this time around. Though I did take a couple pictures of the train stations... so that'll have to suffice for now.

Cromford Train station... so charming.

Family History Trip: Day 1 Wirksworth

*If you only want to see the pictures, scroll down to the bottom you lazy bums. There are plenty of them, just for you.*

I'm obsessed. With Family History. But to be fair, the Spirit of Elijah is a bit addicting, so I don't think it's entirely my fault. Whatever it is though, I've had it on my bucket list for years to visit some of my family history sites, especially those here in the UK. And since January I've been feeling the push to start making it more of a priority. Since basically everything in my life is currently a priority, I wasn't sure how to do this.

However with the start of the new term came the start of new institute classes. The second hour classes didn't really interest me, though, so I worked it out that I would do family history at the church for that hour while everyone else was in institute. That way I would have a set time every week to work on it, I wouldn't feel like institute is a complete waste of my time, and I would still be able to socialize with the YSA during the week. PERFECT.

This term it so happens that I don't have classes on Tuesday and most Wednesdays, but that's really my only break during the week since all of my weekends are now booked through mid-April. Well the Spirit made me feel like I really couldn't wait that long to start going on these research trips. Now I know it's because there are several people waiting up there for me to search through the records, find them, and help get their Temple work done. I don't know who is the driving force behind the urgency I feel about this, but I know at least one person has been anxiously waiting for hundreds of years and they are tired of waiting.

After checking around I found that a short research trip up to the Peak District was actually affordable for my tight student budget, so I booked it. The Peak District, where several generations of my mother's family comes from, is in central England, just about 60 miles north of where I live, so it wasn't too difficult to get there. The cheapest place I could find to stay in the area happened to be the Willersley Castle in Cromford. It might be the most charming place I've ever stayed. 

I was worried about the weather, since it was surprised to be miserable the entire time I was there. But God loves me, and He works miracles on behalf of those who do family history, and boy did He really go all out for me. It didn't just stop raining and snowing. The skies cleared and I had the most glorious day I've experienced in a long time.

I took advantage of the amazing tender mercy and explored Cromford and Wirksworth until it got dark. I fell in love with the area at first sight. It just felt so much like home. It reminded me so much of Pennsylvania where I grew up, so maybe that's why it felt like My Place. Or perhaps it was my ancestors helping me feel the love that they have for the area, and they helped me feel that Their Place was also part of me. I really can't explain why I fell so in love, but I am completely charmed and can't wait to go back!

I told a friend that I was in at least 7 different kinds of heaven that day. He didn't really get it, but here's what I meant by that:

1. 'I'm finally out of Birmingham' Heaven! (Not that I don't love it, but a girl needs a break every now and then. And I definitely needed one now.)
2. 'I'm fulfilling a lifelong dream!' Heaven
3. 'The sun is finally shining, and I'm convinced it's especially for me!' Heaven
4. 'I'm doing Family History work!' Heaven
5. 'I'm in adventure/exploration' Heaven
6. 'I feel so loved by my Heavenly Father!' Heaven
7. 'I'm staying in a castle!' Heaven

I want to remember these feelings and tender mercies forever, and this is really the only way I document my experiences these days. But here are all the photos you've been waiting for.

River Derwent

Cromford Canal

Since Heavenly Father had so generously turned it into the PERFECT DAY for me, I decided to walk the 2 miles to Wirksworth. Of course I didn't realize that it was almost entirely up a hill of 12% grade... but it was still a delightful journey. Plus I got some great pics along the way.

Girl, your future's so bright you need shades.

A memorial to soldiers of the World Wars, but I thought it was a fitting motto for my trip: They died that we might live.

Eventually I reached the summit and finally got to walk DOWNhill for a bit.

While I was walking I came across this old cemetery that I originally had just assumed was the cemetery I'd been looking for. I really love cemeteries. Quirky I know, and I can't explain why. I guess I just love reading the inscriptions and the different ways people choose to mark the lives of those they love. Maybe because it makes the Spirit World feel more tangible, or helps me feel closer to my father. Or maybe it is just the appreciation for the perfect Plan of Happiness that is for ALL of God's children, whether they knew it here or not. Whatever it is, I love exploring cemeteries. And even more so when I have names to look for.

So look I did. But after about an hour the thought came to mind that I wasn't in the right cemetery at all. haha Whoops. No matter. I got some beautiful pictures regardless.

"And if Christ had not risen from the dead, or have broken the bands of death that the grave should have no victory, and that death should have no sting, there could have been no resurrection...."

"... But there IS a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ."
-Mosiah 16:7-8

Well, after a bit more exploration of Wirksworth, I finally found what I'd been looking for: St. Mary's Parish church, the original church for the town, with sections of it dating back to the 12th Century. It is beautiful! Absolutely magnificent, really.

Finally found a readable headstone of an ancestor, though she wasn't in our direct line. Doesn't matter. I was thrilled!!!

Told ya it is magnificent!

Another headstone for an ancestor, but it is almost entirely unreadable except for a couple names: Mary, Hannah, and William Wall. Hannah and William Wall are direct ancestors, though their daughter Mary is not.

I really wanted to get closer to read as much as I could, but it was fenced off. And I'm short. Not a good combo. :/

Happy to know that she is buried in such a picturesque and peaceful place.

The way the sun was hitting the stones made them look all different colors. So lovely.

I didn't get to spend much time exploring the inside of the church, so that's on my list for next time. I didn't want to be walking back in the dark, so I decided to head back to Cromford. Luckily I got back just in time, because within about 20 minutes of being back another storm blew in and it rained all night. See! I KNEW the weather was just for me!

Riber Castle on the hill that separates Cromford from Matlock to the north. I hear they are in the process of turning it into luxury apartments... Maybe one day I'll have the time to hike to the top. I bet the view is incredible!

You can see Willersley Castle, where I stayed,  in the lower center of the photo (between the roofs and the trees), with Riber Castle above it.