Journey of Words

Tag: Nature

  • Day 11 – After Noon

    Briefly outside, but I’m driven back by the falling temperature. The grey sky gave way to blue eventually, but there was no warmth in the sunbeams. There seems little enthusiasm today in the birds’ calls. The greenfinches are the only ones heard throughout the day, but even they lack energy. A picture is sent by →

  • Day 11

    Awoken at 04:30 hrs. First dim light of the new day. A stag bellows from the wood on the hill. Tree branches, unsteady in the stiffening northerly wind, emit a low, irregular moan. Behind this lies the slow-motion rush of heavy waves breaking hard on the shingle. Then the long draw as the sea inhales →

  • Day 10

    Unclouded skies of these past five days have stimulated rapid growth of shoots. What were twiggy branches, bushes, shrubs are now thick with green. So many variations of green unfold from so many buds. Here we have more greens than words for “green.” Perhaps, like the Inuit with all their words for snow, the English →

  • Day 9

    A quiet day. Sun. Blue sky. Birdsong. On the dusty road to the shop there are the car-flattened, leathery remains of toads. They have tried to cross from water where they have grown from eggs, to tadpoles, to toadlets to toads. They spread out from their birth pools and eventually take singular paths. This road →

  • On the Edge

    Out here The East Anglian landscape is so flat That the curvature of Earth is apparent And so here is not so flat at all A world of its own Even the sea moves on a different level From beyond the dykes and shingle banks Winds from North and East hold sway Mighty oaks are →

  • Day 8

    Yellow, everywhere. Gorse, daffodils, primroses and by a flint wall, forthsythia, (the Easter Tree). Along the top road the dark oaks still lack any leaf-cover, so the setting sun bounces off the gorse on the heath through the gnarled woodland. The sky a celestial blue, the display of blooms pure gold. The pillows of colour →

  • Day 7

    At lunch I set out on my bicycle along the coast road. Pushed on by the uncompromising wind past the salt marshes to the mill by the reed beds. The thatch has been recently harvested, but there is still enough cover for a red kite to spark surprise when lifting off from the hollow stalks. →

  • On the Heath

    Still hung on that fence After a week Quietly cured in sun and wind Desiccated deer Provides for the more fortunate Nothing wasted by fox or badger . n.b. I will spare you the picture. . CLP 24/03/2020 →

  • Day 6

    Sat on the front doorstep, mug of tea to hand, the cool breeze is worth enduring for the joy of sun on my face. I listen to the birds, a buzzard’s cry easily distinguished above them all. No traffic, no aircraft. All that can be heard are these birds in song. Later a dog down →

  • On Settling

    Hunter? Gatherer? For butterfly, dragonfly Movement essential . n.b. Saw a red admiral this morning as I sat on the front doorstep drinking a mug of tea. CLP 23/02/2020 →