LIttle ringed plover You never know a writer's sources, not entirely. There are hidden encounters in a story, never reaching the acknowledgements. As a resourceful nature writer I like to consider fresh perspectives, yours as well as mine.
When writing Cumbrian Contrasts I found myself stuck on a train in the company of an engine driver from Walney Island. He was stranded, couldn't reach his train. So he talked to me about the mirage effect of wind turbines off Walney and there's the ghost of an engine driver in that chapter.
When writing Cumbrian Contrasts I found myself stuck on a train in the company of an engine driver from Walney Island. He was stranded, couldn't reach his train. So he talked to me about the mirage effect of wind turbines off Walney and there's the ghost of an engine driver in that chapter.
My dental hygienist isn't accredited in Cumbrian Contrasts, so I'll thank her now. Her husband is a farmer and I always ask her to tell me about life on the farm. Her voice is there in the bitter cold of March 2013. This coming week I'm giving a talk about the heat-wave summer of 2018 so I asked her about it. Once she's working I can't say a word to encourage her, so a breath of assent lets her know I'm listening. Can't take notes in the hygienist's chair, so I commit everything to memory and rehearse it on the way home. Some like it hot but neither my hygienist, nor her assistant nor I are amongst them. I like a crisp, frosty morning, she said. She may not like super-heat but I love the picture she painted .
Those calm summer evenings when the voices of fishermen drifted to shore and they heard them as they sat on the terrace outside the farmhouse. Seals bobbing in the water. A bull with sun-burn. They had to get him into the crush to apply sun cream. 'He's fine with my husband but he doesn't like me,' she confided, describing the bull's aggressive stance and the look he gives her. What about the cows, don't they burn too? It's his muscle-packed haunch that burns, she explained. The weather was perfect for making hay, or was it haylage, not in a position to ask. Her husband loves the sweet fragrance of it. Being by the sea must be a blessing on those hot summer nights.
Now, early November, we look back on the heat-wave summer of 2018 as it fades to memory. There may be consequences, shortage of cattle feed since drought suppressed the growth of grass. Lots of honey, she tells me. I suppose it will be some while before we know how prolonged heat-wave affected agriculture and wildlife.
Those calm summer evenings when the voices of fishermen drifted to shore and they heard them as they sat on the terrace outside the farmhouse. Seals bobbing in the water. A bull with sun-burn. They had to get him into the crush to apply sun cream. 'He's fine with my husband but he doesn't like me,' she confided, describing the bull's aggressive stance and the look he gives her. What about the cows, don't they burn too? It's his muscle-packed haunch that burns, she explained. The weather was perfect for making hay, or was it haylage, not in a position to ask. Her husband loves the sweet fragrance of it. Being by the sea must be a blessing on those hot summer nights.
Now, early November, we look back on the heat-wave summer of 2018 as it fades to memory. There may be consequences, shortage of cattle feed since drought suppressed the growth of grass. Lots of honey, she tells me. I suppose it will be some while before we know how prolonged heat-wave affected agriculture and wildlife.
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