I've spent much of today in nice places, and among nice people. 'Nice' is of course a rather over-used word, and it has perhaps become almost interchangeable with 'bland' - but I don't mean to use it in that way. Rather, I mean people who seem to have the quiet knack of making you feel better without having to work at it - just by who and how they are; and there are places like that too, places where you just feel comfortable and naturally at home, even if you're there as a visitor . . . and even if you're there on the sort of grey and gloomy day we've had today.
I think I need to unpack this a little further. I suppose what I'm trying to express is my appreciation of those people who allow you the space to be yourself, who don't demand too much, and for whom you don't have to put on any kind of 'front' - and who give you, free and gratis, a sense of being valued and affirmed. I hope I do this too; I'd certainly like to! But I thank God for those who offer this ministry to me.
It may seem strange to make the same claim of places, and it is probably a bit fanciful on my part. And yet some places are just . . . nice. They don't require you do live up to them, or catch up with them, or to give more than you can afford. They're just comfortable and affirming places to be.
Where is this place, you may ask, about which I wax so lyrical? I'm not saying, other than that it's a seaside town, with red kites in the countryside around. After all, I'd like it still to be nice next time I visit!
Friday, 22 June 2012
Thursday, 21 June 2012
Rainy Day Thoughts
This doesn't seem to be much of a summer thus far, and, after a couple of fairly nice days, this morning we've been back in the rainshadow! And I've been feeling rather down all day, not helped by some strange dreams last night, some annoying occurrences through the day, a feeling of not getting anywhere much, and one or two discouraging messages and comments.
So I set out for choir practice this evening not feeling at all happy. There are several concert and other events coming up, and I'd decided that I really didn't feel confident, I'd missed too many practices, and I ought to opt out. "Are you going to sign up or not?" Ann asked me, as we arrived. "I'll give it till half time," I replied, "then I'll see how I feel."
Well, music worked its usual trick. I do just love to sing, and the notes seemed to be falling into all the right places tonight. By half time I was quite content to put my name down for everything. I do always have a song in my heart, of course - sometimes I just need to work a little harder at getting it to flow through the rest of me!
So I set out for choir practice this evening not feeling at all happy. There are several concert and other events coming up, and I'd decided that I really didn't feel confident, I'd missed too many practices, and I ought to opt out. "Are you going to sign up or not?" Ann asked me, as we arrived. "I'll give it till half time," I replied, "then I'll see how I feel."
Well, music worked its usual trick. I do just love to sing, and the notes seemed to be falling into all the right places tonight. By half time I was quite content to put my name down for everything. I do always have a song in my heart, of course - sometimes I just need to work a little harder at getting it to flow through the rest of me!
Tuesday, 19 June 2012
Curlew
I was weeding a garden this afternoon in Sarnau, a little village about midway between Oswestry and Welshpool, and was delighted to hear a curlew calling from somewhere quite close by. Although we mostly think of curlew as shore birds, they nest on our upland fields and moors, and it's nice to think they might be nesting in the pasture fields close to the garden I was in today.
The curlew is a large brown wader with a distinctive long and downward-curving bill. Its call is quite melodic but also has a touch of the wilderness about it, to my ears: it always sets the hairs on my neck tingling. Here for me it's an iconic sound, rivalled only by the cuckoo - which I've also heard locally this year, for the first time in a long while.
The curlew is a large brown wader with a distinctive long and downward-curving bill. Its call is quite melodic but also has a touch of the wilderness about it, to my ears: it always sets the hairs on my neck tingling. Here for me it's an iconic sound, rivalled only by the cuckoo - which I've also heard locally this year, for the first time in a long while.
Sunday, 17 June 2012
Monday, 11 June 2012
Words based on Ecclesiastes 3
For
everything there is a season,
For everything there is a time,
For everything there is a time,
For every
action find your reason,
In every
verse create your rhyme.
There is a time when we are born,
There is a time when we must die,
There is a time when we are born,
There is a time when we must die,
A time to
dance, a time to mourn,
A time to
laugh, a time to cry.
There is a time to plant and build,
There is a time to tear things down,
Times when we’re lost, and unfulfilled,
Times when we’re loved, time to be found.
There is a time to plant and build,
There is a time to tear things down,
Times when we’re lost, and unfulfilled,
Times when we’re loved, time to be found.
There is a
time to gather stones,
A time to cast those stones away.
A time to speak in urgent tones,
A time to have no words to say.
A time to cast those stones away.
A time to speak in urgent tones,
A time to have no words to say.
For everything
there is a time:
to tear, to
mend; to start, to cease;
a time to
fall, a time to climb,
a
time of war, a time for peace.
Sunday, 10 June 2012
Thought For The Week
"The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of . . . living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another."
Thomas Merton
Thomas Merton
Intervention
There has been much interest locally - and, because of Springwatch, much more widely - in the osprey project at Cors Dyfi near Machynlleth. One of the three chicks died a week or more back, and more recently, during the very wet weather, a second died, and a third (the second hatched, I think) was too weak to signal that it wanted feeding, and therefore wasn't being fed. Wildlife Trust members intervened, took the chick, fed it and warmed it, then returned in to the nest in a happier and healthier state, upon which the parent birds soon recommenced feeding.
Not everyone approves of such intervention. Nature reserves are bits of wild habitat, not zoos, and nature should be allowed to take its course, some would say. Personally, I'm glad the intervention was made. We are, after all, talking about a project here - the ospreys are breeding at Cors Dyfi because of the human intervention that has led to a reserve area being maintained and stewarded, and a breeding platform erected on which the birds are nesting. To a degree I would oppose intervention - for example, much as I might not like "my" bird table birds being predated by sparrow hawks, I would not intervene to prevent it happening. But I think rules are made to be broken, and in this case it was the right move.
In any case, we human beings are involved in so many bad interventions that harm environments and destroy wild populations that a bit of positive action is surely not only nice but necessary. And also, unlike the ospreys which, however we may view their parenting skills, are motivated and triggered by innate and instinctive reflexes (which is why the weak and listless chick was being ignored), we human beings have the capacity to be compassionate, to be aware, and to be interspecific in our action, recognising that all life has value. And we should use it.
Not everyone approves of such intervention. Nature reserves are bits of wild habitat, not zoos, and nature should be allowed to take its course, some would say. Personally, I'm glad the intervention was made. We are, after all, talking about a project here - the ospreys are breeding at Cors Dyfi because of the human intervention that has led to a reserve area being maintained and stewarded, and a breeding platform erected on which the birds are nesting. To a degree I would oppose intervention - for example, much as I might not like "my" bird table birds being predated by sparrow hawks, I would not intervene to prevent it happening. But I think rules are made to be broken, and in this case it was the right move.
In any case, we human beings are involved in so many bad interventions that harm environments and destroy wild populations that a bit of positive action is surely not only nice but necessary. And also, unlike the ospreys which, however we may view their parenting skills, are motivated and triggered by innate and instinctive reflexes (which is why the weak and listless chick was being ignored), we human beings have the capacity to be compassionate, to be aware, and to be interspecific in our action, recognising that all life has value. And we should use it.
Saturday, 9 June 2012
African Sunrise
A
sliver of blood stains the eastern horizon:
somewhere beyond those hills
the Indian Ocean is giving birth to the new day.
Soon enough the time of burning heat,
with its confusion of dust and wheels and songs and smiles,
hard sales and shouting voices;
for now, though, all is quiet,
the world and this back yard
nestled in dark velvet under a crescent moon:
everything still balanced and cool,
everything still waiting for that first cock to crow.
somewhere beyond those hills
the Indian Ocean is giving birth to the new day.
Soon enough the time of burning heat,
with its confusion of dust and wheels and songs and smiles,
hard sales and shouting voices;
for now, though, all is quiet,
the world and this back yard
nestled in dark velvet under a crescent moon:
everything still balanced and cool,
everything still waiting for that first cock to crow.
Friday, 8 June 2012
Storm
Nothing like a stormy night for reminding us - if we needed it - just how not in control of things we really are!
Words From Mother Julian
"This teaching of true comfort applies without exception to all my fellow Christians . . . These words, 'You shall not be overcome,' were said very loudly and clearly fro security and comfort against all the tribulations that may come. He did not say, 'You shall not be tormented, you shall not be troubled, you shall not be grieved,' but he said, 'You shall not be overcome.' God wants us to pay attention to these words and wants our trust always to be sure and strong, in weal and woe; for he loves and is pleased with us, and he wishes us to love and be pleased with him and put great trust in him; and all shall be well."
Thursday, 7 June 2012
Rain
Hmm. Rain all day, and more promised for tomorrow. My plans dashed, diary commitments rendered pointless. But no use moping. Every door closed provides opportunity for experimentation, discovery and new directions.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
June
The curlew calling from the river fields,
the willow warbler’s soft insistent tune,
and cuckoo, not too near or far away:
the myriad drowsy sounds of early June;
The scent of dropwort in my border bed,
first meadowsweet along the narrow lanes;
goldfinches with their young on thistledown,
as baby blue tits flit among the canes;
Eight young goosanders race in mother’s wake,
as I stand on the aqueduct to see;
a sun-kissed afternoon of dappled shade,
with may’s discarded petals falling free.
We sang ‘Jerusalem’ the other day -
a blackbird answered from the churchyard yew;
he sang on as we sat to hear God’s word,
and in his liquid song that word was true.
O Brother Jesus, did you walk these hills
to grant your blessing? Bless us in our praise,
that all our sweet remembrance of this time
may carry through to winter’s shorter days.
Brief glimpse of heaven, sound of angel song,
that this year’s June has brought us, may it stay
to lift our hearts, and lift our hearts again,
make glad our spirits, guide on love’s bright way.
the willow warbler’s soft insistent tune,
and cuckoo, not too near or far away:
the myriad drowsy sounds of early June;
The scent of dropwort in my border bed,
first meadowsweet along the narrow lanes;
goldfinches with their young on thistledown,
as baby blue tits flit among the canes;
Eight young goosanders race in mother’s wake,
as I stand on the aqueduct to see;
a sun-kissed afternoon of dappled shade,
with may’s discarded petals falling free.
We sang ‘Jerusalem’ the other day -
a blackbird answered from the churchyard yew;
he sang on as we sat to hear God’s word,
and in his liquid song that word was true.
O Brother Jesus, did you walk these hills
to grant your blessing? Bless us in our praise,
that all our sweet remembrance of this time
may carry through to winter’s shorter days.
Brief glimpse of heaven, sound of angel song,
that this year’s June has brought us, may it stay
to lift our hearts, and lift our hearts again,
make glad our spirits, guide on love’s bright way.
Sunday, 3 June 2012
Thought For The Week
"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody."
Bill Cosby
Bill Cosby
Saturday, 2 June 2012
Ground Elder
The rain held off this afternoon, enabling me to get a couple of hours' gardening in for one of my customers. Most of the time was spent battling against ground elder, which was growing more lushly and rampantly than I've seen it anywhere, I think! In places it was almost as tall as I am . . . it must be really good soil.
The roots were everywhere, of course, and very matted and strung together. I enjoy weeding, wouldn't be doing it otherwise, but two hours of this is quite enough; and, however carefully you sift the roots, there's always something left behind! So I won't have got rid of it all, but four large containers of it are in my car waiting to be recycled. I assume the recycling process is very severe, as I wouldn't want the remains of these roots to be infecting anyone else's garden!
It goes to show, though, how small omissions can have big consequences. This isn't a garden left abandoned for decades, just one in which, for good reasons, not much has been done for a year or so. In that time the ground elder (and other weeds too, but none as rampantly) has virtually taken over. I've had to tease out the roots from around large shrubs that were in danger of becoming completely overrun.
In our daily lives also, we take our eyes off the ball at our risk and peril. Small areas of indiscipline, times when we relax our guard, take time out from things we should be attending to, slacken off - they really are important, the impact is cumulative; almost without noticing, we become fat and flabby and out of condition. And this is, of course, as much a spiritual problem as a physical or mental one. It isn't that we need to do very much, so much as that we do need to remember to programme it in, to be regular and attentive in the small disciplines we need to maintain.
Ground elder isn't that hard to control, though it is a bit tiresome. All you need to do is to pull it out whenever you see it. Don't wait until it's a huge plant with flowers and fruit - do it when there's just a single leaf showing. Do it daily, keep on at it, be watchful and aware; show it who's boss.
The roots were everywhere, of course, and very matted and strung together. I enjoy weeding, wouldn't be doing it otherwise, but two hours of this is quite enough; and, however carefully you sift the roots, there's always something left behind! So I won't have got rid of it all, but four large containers of it are in my car waiting to be recycled. I assume the recycling process is very severe, as I wouldn't want the remains of these roots to be infecting anyone else's garden!
It goes to show, though, how small omissions can have big consequences. This isn't a garden left abandoned for decades, just one in which, for good reasons, not much has been done for a year or so. In that time the ground elder (and other weeds too, but none as rampantly) has virtually taken over. I've had to tease out the roots from around large shrubs that were in danger of becoming completely overrun.
In our daily lives also, we take our eyes off the ball at our risk and peril. Small areas of indiscipline, times when we relax our guard, take time out from things we should be attending to, slacken off - they really are important, the impact is cumulative; almost without noticing, we become fat and flabby and out of condition. And this is, of course, as much a spiritual problem as a physical or mental one. It isn't that we need to do very much, so much as that we do need to remember to programme it in, to be regular and attentive in the small disciplines we need to maintain.
Ground elder isn't that hard to control, though it is a bit tiresome. All you need to do is to pull it out whenever you see it. Don't wait until it's a huge plant with flowers and fruit - do it when there's just a single leaf showing. Do it daily, keep on at it, be watchful and aware; show it who's boss.
Friday, 1 June 2012
The Beauty of Flowers
I delivered 200 programmes to Leighton Church, just over the river from here (and the church in the picture at the head of this blog) this morning, for their flower festival this weekend, part of the village's celebration of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. I hope they'll need more than that! That might depend, of course, on whether the very uncertain weather this weekend affects attendance. I hope lots of people come - the floral art on display is going to be superb.
This is the prayer I composed as part of the programme :-
We thank you, Creator God,
for the beauty of flowers, and of the natural world,
and for our human capacity to delight in such things.
We thank you for the skill and inspiration
through which we are able to use this beauty to your glory
and to the enrichment of this house of prayer.
Guide us in the use of our hearts, our minds and our hands,
that all we do may be in tune with your creative Spirit;
in Jesus' name. Amen.
This is the prayer I composed as part of the programme :-
We thank you, Creator God,
for the beauty of flowers, and of the natural world,
and for our human capacity to delight in such things.
We thank you for the skill and inspiration
through which we are able to use this beauty to your glory
and to the enrichment of this house of prayer.
Guide us in the use of our hearts, our minds and our hands,
that all we do may be in tune with your creative Spirit;
in Jesus' name. Amen.
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
Cuckoo
It's been a long time since I've heard a cuckoo in these parts - until this morning, that is. I heard just a single call, but quite clearly, and still might have discounted it had someone else not also heard the cuckoo a few minutes before (something I only realised later).
There have been substantial declines in the numbers of a quite a few of our summer migrant species (perhaps of most of them, I haven't seen the figures). Cuckoos, however dubious aspects of their lifestyle might seem to us, are one of the delights of the British summer, so not to hear one is sad, especially when the countryside round here would seem eminently suitable.
Why the decline? Probably there are several factors, and the balance of causes will be different for different species. Cuckoos require a sufficient population of the 'host' species (dunnock, reed warbler, for example) to raise their parasitic chicks - and some of these species have certainly been declining in numbers, especially in the more open countryside that I imagine cuckoos might favour. The journey itself is a tremendous test for any migrant species, of course - not helped by climatic changes, nor for that matter by trigger-happy bird hunters. And the winter quarters of these birds may also be vulnerable - desertification, pollution, increased human disturbance, for example.
Well, I'm glad I've heard a cuckoo this year . . . and I hope I shall hear it again.
There have been substantial declines in the numbers of a quite a few of our summer migrant species (perhaps of most of them, I haven't seen the figures). Cuckoos, however dubious aspects of their lifestyle might seem to us, are one of the delights of the British summer, so not to hear one is sad, especially when the countryside round here would seem eminently suitable.
Why the decline? Probably there are several factors, and the balance of causes will be different for different species. Cuckoos require a sufficient population of the 'host' species (dunnock, reed warbler, for example) to raise their parasitic chicks - and some of these species have certainly been declining in numbers, especially in the more open countryside that I imagine cuckoos might favour. The journey itself is a tremendous test for any migrant species, of course - not helped by climatic changes, nor for that matter by trigger-happy bird hunters. And the winter quarters of these birds may also be vulnerable - desertification, pollution, increased human disturbance, for example.
Well, I'm glad I've heard a cuckoo this year . . . and I hope I shall hear it again.
Tuesday, 29 May 2012
Litter Picking
A group of us went litter picking today - all part of getting our town ready to receive the Olympic Torch. At first sight I wasn't sure there was much need for us, but it's remarkable how much we overlook. Once your eyes are trained, there is just so much of it!
Most of what we picked was the expected - nub ends and fag packets, chocolate wrappers, cans and bottles,those triangular boxes you get sandwiches in, and till receipts. Stuff dropped thoughtlessly, stuff deliberately dumped: a pile at the side of one space in the Tesco car park was obviously the result of a driver deciding to clean out his car by the simple expedient of tipping every item of rubbish onto the ground right outside his driver's door. I also found: a tea bag, a lady's shoe, an industrial glove . . . no doubt the others also had some strange finds to report.
I was inspired to sign up as a Litter Champion, with the objective of Keeping Wales Tidy. I hate to see stuff just dumped, and have a tendency to walk around for ages with bits of rubbish in my pocket or clasped in my hand, until at last I discover a bin. We live in a throwaway society, and a lot of what we buy is over-packaged. Our observations this morning suggest that cigarette smokers in particular can be rather careless about where they drop the remains of their last ciggie, or even the pack it came in - but that all of us can find ourselves tempted just to chuck stuff away, even when there's a bin not far away.
Thoughtlessly dumped litter is not only unsightly, it can also be dangerous. Glass breaks, metal cans get twisted and torn when mangled by a mowing machine, seagulls and other birds get strangled by those plastic thingies that hold drinks cans together - and so on. Well, we were glad to have spent a bit of time doing our bit, and I have to say that we received lots of positive comments from passers-by. And let it be said also that most people do use bins, or take litter home with them . . . and may I close this piece with a thank you to them, the quiet and considerate majority - for if everyone just dumped and chucked, we'd be up to our necks in the stuff!
Most of what we picked was the expected - nub ends and fag packets, chocolate wrappers, cans and bottles,those triangular boxes you get sandwiches in, and till receipts. Stuff dropped thoughtlessly, stuff deliberately dumped: a pile at the side of one space in the Tesco car park was obviously the result of a driver deciding to clean out his car by the simple expedient of tipping every item of rubbish onto the ground right outside his driver's door. I also found: a tea bag, a lady's shoe, an industrial glove . . . no doubt the others also had some strange finds to report.
I was inspired to sign up as a Litter Champion, with the objective of Keeping Wales Tidy. I hate to see stuff just dumped, and have a tendency to walk around for ages with bits of rubbish in my pocket or clasped in my hand, until at last I discover a bin. We live in a throwaway society, and a lot of what we buy is over-packaged. Our observations this morning suggest that cigarette smokers in particular can be rather careless about where they drop the remains of their last ciggie, or even the pack it came in - but that all of us can find ourselves tempted just to chuck stuff away, even when there's a bin not far away.
Thoughtlessly dumped litter is not only unsightly, it can also be dangerous. Glass breaks, metal cans get twisted and torn when mangled by a mowing machine, seagulls and other birds get strangled by those plastic thingies that hold drinks cans together - and so on. Well, we were glad to have spent a bit of time doing our bit, and I have to say that we received lots of positive comments from passers-by. And let it be said also that most people do use bins, or take litter home with them . . . and may I close this piece with a thank you to them, the quiet and considerate majority - for if everyone just dumped and chucked, we'd be up to our necks in the stuff!
Monday, 28 May 2012
A Tax Too Far?
The so-called "Pasty Tax" has bit the dust (or the crust, perhaps?). No surprise, really - this was a tax initiative that had played incredibly badly in the popular press, while at the same time likely to raise relatively little money. And it's pretty clear by now that this government really does need not to offend and annoy people unnecessarily - so a swift U-turn has been performed.
"You turn if you want to. The lady's not for turning," a previous Tory PM once said. Political U-turns are traditionally understood to be bad and weak, the mark of poor government. There is some truth in that, of course, not least because the further you go in one legislative direction before turning round and heading back the opposite way, the more money (sorry, the more tax-payers' money) you waste.
Nonetheless, it isn't a weak thing to be honest. When a mistake is made, not to own up to it or to do anything to correct it would be a sort of political Titanic disaster - ship of state meets iceberg, iceberg wins. Better of course not to have made the mistake in the first place; but still, better to correct one's course than to go steaming straight on into the iceberg.
I imagine the government will seek to save face by presenting itself as responsible and responsive. "See how we listened!" they'll say. Well, perhaps governments should ask us more often what we think. Meanwhile, one feature of the current political scene has to be a growing awareness of the power of civil society, and the ways in which organised popular lobbying can be encouraged and enabled by the electronic media.
"You turn if you want to. The lady's not for turning," a previous Tory PM once said. Political U-turns are traditionally understood to be bad and weak, the mark of poor government. There is some truth in that, of course, not least because the further you go in one legislative direction before turning round and heading back the opposite way, the more money (sorry, the more tax-payers' money) you waste.
Nonetheless, it isn't a weak thing to be honest. When a mistake is made, not to own up to it or to do anything to correct it would be a sort of political Titanic disaster - ship of state meets iceberg, iceberg wins. Better of course not to have made the mistake in the first place; but still, better to correct one's course than to go steaming straight on into the iceberg.
I imagine the government will seek to save face by presenting itself as responsible and responsive. "See how we listened!" they'll say. Well, perhaps governments should ask us more often what we think. Meanwhile, one feature of the current political scene has to be a growing awareness of the power of civil society, and the ways in which organised popular lobbying can be encouraged and enabled by the electronic media.
Woodlice
My latest "Nature Notes" . . .
When I was a
boy, I was always fascinated by what today’s kids call “minibeasts” - and
woodlice were among my favourites. My
apologies to those of you who hate them, but I’m going to write about them this
month, because I still find them very interesting, and maybe you will too, for
they are in some ways quite amazing little animals, and harmless to human
beings. I am told in fact that they are
quite good eating, related as they are to shrimps and prawns, but I have never
put this to the test and have no intention of doing so! Of the 3,500 or so species of Woodlice in the
world, most are vegetarian, including all the 35 to 40 species found in the UK.
Should you
wish to keep a woodlouse as a pet, I’m told they do well in margarine tubs,
being unable to climb up the sides and escape.
They need damp conditions, so some damp soil on the bottom is good, with
something to hide under (they like the dark), and a few vegetable scraps from
time to time for them to eat.
Woodlice
have seven pairs of legs, and are Crustaceans, more closely related to crabs
and prawns than to (say) insects or spiders. In fact they are virtually the
only Crustaceans to live on land with any great success. They breathe through lungs found towards the
back of the body, on the underside.
Baby woodlice
have only six pairs of legs, and spend the first part of their lives in a brood
pouch, or marsupium, underneath the mother, leaving after the first moult when
the seventh pair of legs has been gained. There can be quite large numbers of
young, which appear to be “born” as tiny white versions of the adults, thanks
to the time spent in the marsupium. The
number born increases with the size of the adult, but broods of more than 200
have been recorded (obviously, by no means all of these will survive to
adulthood). Most British species have one brood per year.
Almost all
our woodlouse species feed on dead leaves and other rotting vegetation,
including old wood. The largest British
woodlouse, the Sea Slater, lives on seaweed - it can grow to about an inch long
(worth looking for when at the seaside).
The Ant Woodlouse has a strange lifestyle: it is white, blind, and lives entirely in ant
nests feeding on the ant droppings and associated fungi.
Like insects,
woodlice need to moult in order to grow, but unusually they shed only half
their skin at a time - the back half first, then a few days later the front. Woodlice often eat their shed skin, and this
is a time when they are especially vulnerable to predators. Woodlice are readily eaten by shrews and by
insectivorous birds, and at least one British species of spider is a woodlouse
specialist.
Thought For The Week
"This is one of the major questions of our lives: how we keep boundaries, what permission we have to cross boundaries, and how we do so."
A. B. Yehoshua
A. B. Yehoshua
Sunday, 27 May 2012
Kites
One of the people I garden for was telling me that his son, visiting one day, pointed to the heavens and said, "Look, there's a red kite!" His little daughter, all of six years old, fixed her father with a withering look and replied, "Daddy, you're just being silly. Anyone can see that it's a bird! There isn't a string!"
The red kite is the symbol of Powys, and has a reasonable claim to be a sort of alternative National Creature of Wales, I suppose, for all that introduced kites have become a common sight in the Thames Valley and other parts of Britain. For many years you had to come to mid-Wales to see red kites - and even then, just to a handful of locations. Nowadays they may be seen more frequently in this area, and, though I'm not sure that there are any breeding pairs this far from their ancient Welsh stronghold to the south, I've seen a pair flying together this year on two occasions at Marton, just over the Shropshire border, so it's possible.
The red kite has also appeared in our bird log for Brookfield Road, though it was a long way up, and certainly not a visitor to the local bird tables! They are wonderful birds to see in flight, though, for they are so marvellously aerobatic. I noticed a pair flying together over the Dyfi estuary on my way by car back from Aberystwyth the other day and, though I saw them for only a few instants, the number of twists and turns each bird managed in that short time was remarkable.
When it comes to that other sort of kite, the ones that have strings attached, I'm well out of my comfort zone. Somehow they just don't work for me! But anyway, I'd rather just watch these wonderful wild creatures, and marvel at their mastery of an element that is so beyond me.
The red kite is the symbol of Powys, and has a reasonable claim to be a sort of alternative National Creature of Wales, I suppose, for all that introduced kites have become a common sight in the Thames Valley and other parts of Britain. For many years you had to come to mid-Wales to see red kites - and even then, just to a handful of locations. Nowadays they may be seen more frequently in this area, and, though I'm not sure that there are any breeding pairs this far from their ancient Welsh stronghold to the south, I've seen a pair flying together this year on two occasions at Marton, just over the Shropshire border, so it's possible.
The red kite has also appeared in our bird log for Brookfield Road, though it was a long way up, and certainly not a visitor to the local bird tables! They are wonderful birds to see in flight, though, for they are so marvellously aerobatic. I noticed a pair flying together over the Dyfi estuary on my way by car back from Aberystwyth the other day and, though I saw them for only a few instants, the number of twists and turns each bird managed in that short time was remarkable.
When it comes to that other sort of kite, the ones that have strings attached, I'm well out of my comfort zone. Somehow they just don't work for me! But anyway, I'd rather just watch these wonderful wild creatures, and marvel at their mastery of an element that is so beyond me.
Thursday, 24 May 2012
Singing
I can't sing at the moment, having lost my voice, but thankfully I can still enjoy the singing of others. Ann and I had a lovely evening out today when The Sixteen came to St Chad's, Shrewsbury as part of their latest travels around the country. The music was wonderful, the singing superb.
There are actually 35 singers who will be part of this year's series of concerts, not 16, and on each specific evening, all told, there are 20 of those 35 taking part (6 sopranos, 4 altos, 4 tenors and 6 basses). Two of the pieces were scored for ATB, so were sung by just 14 voices. The quality of performance often suggested a far larger choir, and the blend of voices and the balance between parts is what makes The Sixteen so special. There can really deliver some power: I should think St Chad's seats some 600 people, and some of the venues at which they'll be singing will be considerably larger than that - but, when it mattered, they could fill the building with song.
It was still light when we emerged, and made our way through the buzz of conversation to where bats were flittering to and fro among the trees at the top of The Quarry. Unseen garden flowers scented the air as we made our way back to our car. And a sense of having been part of a really quite special experience lingered with us as we journeyed home.
There are actually 35 singers who will be part of this year's series of concerts, not 16, and on each specific evening, all told, there are 20 of those 35 taking part (6 sopranos, 4 altos, 4 tenors and 6 basses). Two of the pieces were scored for ATB, so were sung by just 14 voices. The quality of performance often suggested a far larger choir, and the blend of voices and the balance between parts is what makes The Sixteen so special. There can really deliver some power: I should think St Chad's seats some 600 people, and some of the venues at which they'll be singing will be considerably larger than that - but, when it mattered, they could fill the building with song.
It was still light when we emerged, and made our way through the buzz of conversation to where bats were flittering to and fro among the trees at the top of The Quarry. Unseen garden flowers scented the air as we made our way back to our car. And a sense of having been part of a really quite special experience lingered with us as we journeyed home.
Wednesday, 23 May 2012
Blindworms
This is one of the old country names for slow worms, which are of course not worms at all, but snake-like legless lizards. The slow worm is I think the commonest reptile in the UK, but even so I've only rarely seen them. They are not snakes - like other lizards, they have eyelids, visible ear ducts and the ability to shed their tails if grabbed by a predator. Nor are they blind, but they love dark and secret places, and will often shrink backwards into dark crevices when disturbed, so I can see how the "blindworm" name came about.
I was lucky enough to come across two baby slow worms today when weeding a flower border. The garden I was weeding backs on to the old grassland of the Powis Castle estate, and the tiny slow worms, only about three inches long apiece, were hiding under an old piece of wood. Baby slow worms actually look a little more snake- like than the adults, as the shape of the head is more clearly visible. These were a gentle buff colour, perhaps just slightly greenish, with a darker brown stripe along the length of the body.
I love gardening, and today was - well, maybe on the hot side, but otherwise a lovely day to be doing it. I enjoy weeding and I'm quite good at it, too. This stands me in good stead, as so many gardeners either hate weeding or have no idea how to do it, or what to take and what to leave. So I get to weed some gardens in which other folk do things like lawns and hedges that, frankly, are a bit of a bore . . . and people are prepared to pay me to spend pleasant hours in the sun surrounded by birdsong and encountering fascinating creatures like slow worms.
While I don't think this blog is going to become just a nature diary, I suspect that, now I've started up again, rather more of my entries than before will have a wildlife content to them.
I was lucky enough to come across two baby slow worms today when weeding a flower border. The garden I was weeding backs on to the old grassland of the Powis Castle estate, and the tiny slow worms, only about three inches long apiece, were hiding under an old piece of wood. Baby slow worms actually look a little more snake- like than the adults, as the shape of the head is more clearly visible. These were a gentle buff colour, perhaps just slightly greenish, with a darker brown stripe along the length of the body.
I love gardening, and today was - well, maybe on the hot side, but otherwise a lovely day to be doing it. I enjoy weeding and I'm quite good at it, too. This stands me in good stead, as so many gardeners either hate weeding or have no idea how to do it, or what to take and what to leave. So I get to weed some gardens in which other folk do things like lawns and hedges that, frankly, are a bit of a bore . . . and people are prepared to pay me to spend pleasant hours in the sun surrounded by birdsong and encountering fascinating creatures like slow worms.
While I don't think this blog is going to become just a nature diary, I suspect that, now I've started up again, rather more of my entries than before will have a wildlife content to them.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Thought For The Week
"When you stop giving, when you stop offering something to
someone, it's time to turn out the light."
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Goodbye
I'm not sure who, if anyone, still reads this, but you may have noticed I haven't posted much for a little while. In fact, I've decided to take a short break. Life goes on at Brookfield, siskins still call at the bird table, flowers are being planted, lawns mowed, meals cooked . . . we remain happy, and at ease.
But there are a couple of big decisions to be taken, things I shall have to do that I shall need a clear head for. I shall stand down from a number of present commitments over the next week or three - perhaps longer, perhaps not, we'll see - and this blog is one of those.
From time to time I've been able, I think, to say things that make sense, and write stuff I can look back on without wincing too much. But there've been a few recent posts I've either deleted soon after posting, or else not in the end posted at all, because they've been too self-centred, too bound up with my own stuff.
I'll be back, before too long I hope. When my head is clearer, and when one or two demons have been confronted. Till then, goodbye.
But there are a couple of big decisions to be taken, things I shall have to do that I shall need a clear head for. I shall stand down from a number of present commitments over the next week or three - perhaps longer, perhaps not, we'll see - and this blog is one of those.
From time to time I've been able, I think, to say things that make sense, and write stuff I can look back on without wincing too much. But there've been a few recent posts I've either deleted soon after posting, or else not in the end posted at all, because they've been too self-centred, too bound up with my own stuff.
I'll be back, before too long I hope. When my head is clearer, and when one or two demons have been confronted. Till then, goodbye.
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