Month: February 2023
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Peril in the joy . . .
Yesterday’s blog entry felt like an opening opportunity to investigate the depths of these springtime joys. And since I’ve challenged myself to see what poetic inspirations I can find on the general theme of ‘spring,’ I thought I’d have a quick go in the sonnet form. I’m a fan of the classic Shakespearean (sometimes called…
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Signs of spring, if you look
We ambled along the dyke path, through the Ken-Dee marshland, on a reasonably clement afternoon. I’d brought the big camera along so I could get close enough to the various trees lining the circuit, to try to spot some buds of incipient spring. The white fluffy willow buds looked ready to burst, and the oak…
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Light and shadow . . .
We headed toward the remaining sunshine, up the Old Edinburgh Road, the other day, on a belated walk. It took a set of brisk steps to get up the rise, but finally we were standing in the bright sun’s rays. Just in time, we thought! We’ve three walks, maybe four, that we enjoy from outside…
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On a ‘fire of joy’ . . .
A crescendo of musket fire in the celebration of French Alliance Day by the National Parks Service, USA. A few days ago I mentioned Clive James’ collection of poetry that he had treasured throughout his life, The Fire of Joy. Definitely one for my wish-list, that. Anyway, I was reminded again of this joyful fire…
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Fauna of the Glen Kens
From the soaring heights reached by the circling red kite, to the lowly depths on the dyke wall inhabited by a bank vole, the fauna of these parts continue to enchant. We were bemused by what we took to be the pursuit of a leisurely gliding heron by the red kite. While interrogating Google to…
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The bagpiper at Hexham Abbey
We did a little twirl of the Sele in Hexham, Saturday morning, in a persistent drizzle, so the opportunity to duck into the Abbey was welcome. I renewed my acquaintance with the ancient piper whose carving is part of an irreverent series of nine in the fifteenth century Leschman Chantry Chapel, positioned up to the…
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Green, verdant, mysterious wood
And yet, it’s deep winter here in the Glen Kens. But it’s really quite mild, as the days pass by with temperatures in the upper single figures. My thoughts have tended toward the poetic, these days, as we amble through the ageing woodland. I would like to believe that the poetic form is not only…
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The wonder, and joy, of a remembered dream . . .
Never mind the actual dream events, I thought to myself earlier this morning, it’s the conflation of strange but contemporary circumstances that has sparked a graceful note from my subconscious. That note is like an admonition from my listening, watchful alter ego: yes, you do have an imagination, somewhere within. I have no real wish…
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The subtlety of a job well done
The repair job seems to be holding up well, so perhaps I can be quietly satisfied with my fixing strategy. In the melamine-coated chipboard, the fixing screws top and bottom of the fridge door were coming adrift. With the sag, the top cabinet door was increasingly binding on the lower door concealing the freezer half.…
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Those life requirements . . .
I’ve been thinking about our cat’s life. She exhibits Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs quite faithfully: food, warmth, hygiene, affection, play. What she doesn’t have in her life, as she’s equilibrating to a restricted bungalow existence, is adventure. But this weekend, this weekend, we open the window and let her out into the greater world.…
Roads to Joy 