Leave Nothing But Footsteps, Take Nothing But Memories

Leave Nothing But Footsteps, Take Nothing But Memories Blog

The Taddington Tales

after workshops in school back in October, Taddington priumary School came, en masse, to Buxton Museum and Art Gallery in February for a day of activity and performance.

Here, for the first time, we saw the animations children had created editted into a film and shown on a big screen.

Here, we met the glamorously clad inhabitants of period Buxton.

Here, we encountered the animals of modern Taddington that share the dales with us humans.

Here, we saw the history of the dales unfold in a timeline reaching from ancent seas and trilobites right up to the present day and rivers wearing the limestone away and carryng it back to the sea again…..

First photos are posted here…more will follow…and

moments of fame and glory!

an article from the Buxton Advertiser

Project work makes for interesting reading....

timeline: early mammals

timeline technicians in action

planning the timeline

period elegance in peg dolls!


Spring words!

Lively words for the coming of spring

Every month we have been trying to psot a piece of writing from earlier visitors to the peaks, inviting 21st century readers to taste earlier experiences of these craggy hills and deep dales. Our latest challenge offers two pieces – that hopefully catch something fo the promise of spring…

Have a read, and send us what you think about these words, thoughts and images: you don’t need to write a poem! A sentence will do, or a paragraph or scrawl a postcard on-line….and I know the image isn’t of anemones! but this is from a spring morning in the dales just last week

from “The Tables Turned, an evening on the same subject”

UP! up! my Friend, and quit your books;

Or surely you’ll grow double:

UP! up! my Friend, and clear thy looks;

Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun above the mountain’s head,

A freshening lustre mellow

Through all the long green fields has spread,

His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! ‘tis a dull and endless strife:

Come, hear the woodland linnet,

How sweet his music on my life

There’s more of wisdom in it

William Wordsworth 1798

from “The Botanic Garden”

All wan and shivering in the leafless glade

The sad ANEMONE reclined her head;

Grief on her cheeks had paled the roseate hue,

And her sweet eyelids dropp’d with pearly dew.

“See, from bright regions, borne on odorous gales

The Swallow, herald of summer sails

Erasmus Darwin 1791

a burst of March sunshine


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