The hotel is set off the road on the northern edge of Grasmere, part way up the side of a hill, overlooking the valley and the hills to the west, beyond. There's a narrow winding lane that goes up to the hotel. It was drizzling as I arrived, as it had done most of the morning during my drive over. This is Eden. I opened my windows, gazing off into the valleys and hilltops beyond, barely visible through treetops, shrouded with clouds and the finest veils of mist.
Flowers are everywhere.
It's a picture of stunning beauty and peacefulness. No wonder Wordsworth and Dorothy felt so strongly about the lake area, about the potential destruction and alteration of it. I look out onto the garden below. The trees are so alive, such immense, tall structures, bending in the breeze and the raindrops. Straight ahead, between the lawn, the flowers, and the trees and the valley and hills beyond that, there is a small pasture, with farm animals.