Today’s Where in the World Wednesday takes us to…

Highgate Cemetery, London.

[photo source]

[insert maniacal laughter here]

Yes, if I had any logic and planning at all I would save this until closer to Halloween, but where is the fun in that? I’ve never been there but my next trip to London, this spot will be on my agenda.  Not only is it filled with lovely Victorian gothic excess…

[photo source]

And not only is it filled with creepy loveliness….

But the tales! The famous people! The history!

Okay, so of course Karl Marx is buried there, common knowledge, whot?

But check this. The poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti buried a volume of unpublished poetry with his young wife, Lizzie, (yes, she was dead, do I need to add that detail?) who is pictured famously here, as Ophelia by the artist Millais:

So. She died. (She had a wee bit of a laudanum problem.) Bereft, he stuck his poetry in the casket to be buried with her.

Six years later, changed his mind, dug her up in the middle of the night and got it back so he could publish them.  (He had a wee bit of a money problem.)

Oh, the tales that Highgate can tell…

Let the Sexton tell you a few.

[insert more maniacal laughter here]

Today's Where in the World Wednesday takes us to…

Highgate Cemetery, London.

[photo source]

[insert maniacal laughter here]

Yes, if I had any logic and planning at all I would save this until closer to Halloween, but where is the fun in that? I’ve never been there but my next trip to London, this spot will be on my agenda.  Not only is it filled with lovely Victorian gothic excess…

[photo source]

And not only is it filled with creepy loveliness….

But the tales! The famous people! The history!

Okay, so of course Karl Marx is buried there, common knowledge, whot?

But check this. The poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti buried a volume of unpublished poetry with his young wife, Lizzie, (yes, she was dead, do I need to add that detail?) who is pictured famously here, as Ophelia by the artist Millais:

So. She died. (She had a wee bit of a laudanum problem.) Bereft, he stuck his poetry in the casket to be buried with her.

Six years later, changed his mind, dug her up in the middle of the night and got it back so he could publish them.  (He had a wee bit of a money problem.)

Oh, the tales that Highgate can tell…

Let the Sexton tell you a few.

[insert more maniacal laughter here]

Where in the World Wednesday is Back!

So… exotic locations to tempt the wandering muse…

This one inspired a location in the most recent novel.  The greens are so intense, the golden color almost shimmering, the sky and the waves… Labeled “Westdale Cliff Path,” it sings to me with a not-so-subtle Welsh accent. We weren’t at this particular spot, but drove much of the coast of Wales. The memories, the memories…

Copyright, Paul Forsdick

Images of fields of lavender take my breath away.  Can they really be this gorgeous? Surely there is photo-magic involved. And speaking of taking one’s breath away, what about the scent? Do people with sensitive probosci flee in distress?  I could browse these images for hours…

If you know me (and I think you do) you know that my soul craves green, which is why you’re more likely to see green here than desert, sorry.  And when it comes to green places I haven’t been but want to visit, the Olympic Peninsula is high on the list, despite the Twilight connection.  (Okay, gun to my head, Team Edward, but good grief, infantilize much? Was there anybody who didn’t pick Bella up and run through the forest with her? Excuse me while I cringe.) Okay, now that I’ve annoyed all Twi-Moms and Twi-Teens (plus hit a gazillion search engines) let me get back to my point.

Green.  Olympic Rainforest.

Copyright, Glen Allison/Getty Images [Britannica Website]

Someday.

So, today, where would I go? Okay, if you know me (and I know you do) it’s Wales, anywhere in the British Isles, really. But maybe just to be different…

I’ll take those fields of lavender.  The Fearless Stormchaser can just put a clothespin on his proboscis.

And you?