As I Was Going to St. Ives

 

Photo by Benjamin Elliott on Unsplash

The day that Kevin, Shirley, and I headed to St. Ives that old nursery rhyme was playing in my head:

"As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives. Every wife had seven sacks, every sack had seven cats, every cat had seven kitts. Kitts, cats, sacks, wives, how many were going to St. Ives?" 

That riddle stumped me when I was young, but, of course, the answer is one, since the man with seven wives must have been coming from St. Ives, while only the narrator was going there. However, as Kevin pointed out, if he met the man on the train to St. Ives, then multiplication might be in order. In any case, there was something pleasurable about finally going to St. Ives.

Research indicated it would be best to go to nearby St. Erth and take the train to St. Ives. It's a short, but scenic journey of less than 15 minutes, and it allows you to avoid driving down the narrow, congested streets of St. Ives to find parking, so that is just what we did.

I wish I had more photos of the town, which is just charming. Not only are the cobblestone streets picturesque, but the town is loaded with galleries. The beaches are beautiful too, with their golden sands edged by surf and blue sea.

We planned the visit with Shirley because we all wanted to see the Tate St. Ives Museum and the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Gardens there. Kevin hoped to view some Henry Moore artwork there, given that Moore is one of his favorites, and Moore and Hepworth were good friends. But he did not see any. However, both museums were highly enjoyable. (Sorry, my photos of artwork in the Tate, which features modern and contemporary art, did not turn out well.) The building itself was quite attractive, but unlike the Getty Museum in L.A., where the building sometimes overwhelms the art, the Tate's galleries were well lit and open.

View from inside the Tate St. Ives.

Kevin was pleased to find a book in the museum shop featuring Francis Bacon, another of his favorites. I had to take a photo, given that Kevin was wearing his Francis Bacon hat and his Francis Bacon t-shirt. (Full disclosure: His interest in Francis Bacon is his alone. I personally do not care for Francis Bacon. He's a bit too "out there" for me, but maybe that's another reason Kevin likes him?) To each his own.

Later, at a small commercial gallery, we found out that Francis Bacon had once visited the family-owned art store. I had a very interested conversation with the young woman there, who told me that her family had been in the area since the 1600s. "Oh, good," I said. "I thought maybe you were newcomers who came in the 1800s." She was kind. She laughed at my lame joke.

I think that Kevin, Shirley, and I all felt that the highlight of St. Ives was the Hepworth Museum, and especially the Hepworth Garden.

Sculpture in Barbara Hepworth Museum.

What impressed me particularly about the garden was that it really wasn't very large. Yet it was incredibly lovely and lush, which may give us some ideas for our own garden. The rain, which had periodically showered down, let up, and we spent a long time there, observing Hepworth's sculptures and treasuring the sense of peace.

Kevin and I agreed that we'd like to return to St. Ives one day. Maybe then we'll meet the man with seven wives?