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 Wind-shear at altitude From the photographs, you would not know. . You cannot hear the silence, fewer aircraft, less traffic. If your local patch is like mine, if you can walk from home to reach it, you might notice something different. It’s unusual to see families on Scout Scar. I hope this continues once Corvid 19 is beaten. That parents bring their children to engage with the natural world, to look and listen.
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 Coltsfoot inviting pollination As photographers, we all have different interests. Back in 2014 I began to think macro for flower photographs. Down on your knees, in close and what you see is quite unlike a walker's view. These are the reproductive parts of a flower of interest to pollinators.
Each day I watched the swelling coltsfoot buds until the sun shone strongly, the buds burst open, and the sun's warmth triggered a release of pollen for bees. At night, the flower closed-up again, but once the petals had unfurled they didn't go back quite so neatly.  Erratic and its debris, Scout Scar Erratics on Scout Scar are striking natural sculptures. Boulders transported on glaciers during the last ice-age, then dumped as the ice melted. The bedrock on Scout Scar is limestone, the erratics are Borrowdale Volcanics, an older rock sitting on a younger. The inverse of what you'd expect.
Rock ground smooth, rounded, eroded as it is borne by the glacier. Sitting in a shallow basin on an alien bedorck.  Scots pine and pattern of anthills, Helsington Barrows A skylark calls amongst the crags on Kendal Race Course, a skylark lit by the sun, his crest erect. Another sings in display flight. Pattern of bright white cumulus clouds across the sky, and visible wind-sheer. Not a con-trail in sight , the skies silent. A preternatural peace. This is how the world was, this tranquillity.  Long-tailed tit. January 2020 Foulshaw Moss In Coronavirus self-isolation I look for inspiration, and seek to share what I find. It's spring. Open your bedroom windows, snuggle under the duvet and listen to the dawn chorus. After dawn, see what birds are visiting your garden. Make a habit of it and you'll discover nesting birds. Ours has a long-tailed tit visiting a feeder with fat balls daily. So there's a nest close-by.
 Lobed and veined Jew's ear fungus on an elder by the Eric Morecambe hide. Eric with arm raised, heel kicked up in classic pose. Other than Eric we have the sea-hides to ourselves. The car park is closed but we walked here and assume this does not apply to pedestrians In Allan hide it sounded like a railway junction, wind louder than the Carnforth train which ran behind the embankment. A run -away lawn-mower rattled in the roof. Last time, we had to manoeuvre the JCBs mending the pot-holes, refurbishing the track. The beck to the salt marsh is brim-full. Our boots are just clear of puddles. At 12.15 high tide could bring 10 feet of water to the car-park.
 Queen imprisoned in stained-glass, Bristol Cathedral 12th February 2014.
‘All sorts of weather and none of it good. A dangerous day,’ warns forecaster Dianne Oxberry- who died young. A Shipping Forecast packed tight with gales, hurricane force 12 off the Irish coast. Travelling south to Stratford-on-Avon, the sky darkens, the wind picks up with volleys of hail. The River Avon is yellow-brown and in spate, brim-full but within its banks, its direction bewildering. The wind blows against the flow of the river, intent on forcing it back upstream. The swans are embattled. Squalls lash at us as we head for 'The Swan' to see Hilary Mantel’s ‘Wolf Hall’ and ‘ Bring up the Bodies.’ The theatre door is open and the wind blasts right through the entrance and into the shop.  London, May 1536
The execution of Anne Boleyn: take 2 He witnesses the execution. He, Cromwell, the instrument of her downfall. He serves the king and Henry VIII wills it. Get rid of her. Bring up the Bodies- bring them forth for execution, it’s a concluding scene. He cannot walk away. It is a haunting, an execution. All those executions, He has been here before. A world-weariness possesses him.  Alpine at Sizergh Alpines flower at Sizergh gardens, crystals of ice linger on foliage. Squalls of hail overnight and we drive home in another pelting. Fragrant winter-flowering shrubs and spring flowers: wild daffodils and cultivars, crocus, hellebore, daphne and winter jasmine.. A rehearsal of spring, and we know this garden but each time it is particular to the season, to the day..
No day is ever the same and nor are we. Contemplating daffodils does not bring oblivion. Beyond Sizergh gardens there are dark clouds gathering. Who are we, the English, the British? Can we summon the national myth a time of crisis? |
AuthorJan Wiltshire is a nature writer living in Cumbria. She also explores islands and coast and the wildlife experience. (See Home and My Books) Archives
November 2023
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