Black-winged harpy

I was somewhat disconcerted to see this creature standing on a branch above the river, though I shouldn't have been. Closer inspection revealed it to be the young cormorant that I first spotted fishing a few days ago. It was drying its wings after a spell of diving. It is a very efficient fishing machine, diving underwater for long periods and surfacing some way from where it first disappeared from view, always with a beak full of fish that it swallowed as it broke the surface of the water. 

So... not a black-winged harpy then... 'that fierce, sudden black-winged harpy, with its talons and its beak all cold and hard...' as Virginia Woolf put it in 'To the Lighthouse'. Phew. (That might, however, be the Loch Ness monster, rising from the water beneath!)

Three little pigs and other stories

Every now and again I realise I've amassed a few photos that, for one reason or another, I quite like but that don't really 'fit in' anywhere. Like the three sleepy pigs that I spotted in Wales....

and the other one with a hat on...

Or the litter shouting out from the side of the footpath...

And this is somewhere I've always wanted to visit, ever since I came to live in Bradford.... Idle is a district in the city and lends its name to many things that end up being mildly amusing. I was invited by some friends to a function in the church, followed by a reception at the Working Men's Club. I did notice that the list of past vicars at the church was entitled 'Vicars of Idle' rather than 'Idle Vicars'!

It puts me in mind of one of my favourite quotes:

'How beautiful it is to do nothing and then rest afterwards.'

Have a good day! 

Smile and say hi

Graffiti 'artists' (if you like to call them that), have been out and about around Shipley lately. One called Rude or Rudeen seems to have been particularly prolific. It wouldn't be so bad if they drew nice pictures but instead they just scrawl their names. 

Someone has also spray stencilled onto the canal towpath, though I suppose 'smile and say hi as you go by' is a reasonable demand with which to cajole the general public. Maybe the world would be a nicer place if we did? 

The blue heart below has little artistic merit, but I found some small beauty in it. It was the mix of turquoise and rust that appealed to me. 

Lee Abbey sunset

So, that was my holiday journal... I took so many photos! I hope I haven't been boring about it. I wanted my own record of a very enjoyable 'grand tour' of the south west of England  - and anyway, I haven't been taking many pictures at home recently.

Finally, just because I can't not show this - here is another sunset shot, taken during the time I was at Lee Abbey, Devon. The sun drops down over Lee Bay into the sea and each night it looks different, depending on the cloud cover. Irresistible to watch - and to photograph. It was like having your very own light show, night after night. As the sun neared the sea, it seemed to change shape from a sphere to an oval. Absolutely compelling. It seemed as if there should be a symphony playing but instead all was quiet. Even the people watching stopped talking and simply enjoyed one of the masterpieces of God's creation. Such peace.

"If I can put one touch of rosy sunset into the life of anyone, 

I shall feel that I have worked with God."

G K Chesterton

City of Poetry

It's quite a steep walk up to the city centre from Sheffield's railway station, but the route is interesting, passing through part of the campus of Sheffield Hallam University. Some of the buildings have artwork and poetry on them, which is rather nice. The Owen Building holds these lines by the former Poet Laureate Andrew Motion; 'What If..?', written in 2007 for a literature festival. 

   "O travellers from                                                                    

     somewhere else to here,                                                          

     Rising from Sheffield Station                                                   

     and Sheaf Square

     To wander through the 

     labyrinths of air,

     Pause now, and let

     the sight of this sheer cliff                                          Your thoughts are like

     Become a priming-place                                            this too: as fixed as words

     which lifts you off                                                       Set down to decorate

     To speculate                                                              a blank facade

     What if..?                                                                   And yet, as words are too, 

     What if..?                                                                   all soon transferred

     What if..?

                                                                                       To greet and understand

     Cloud-shadows drag                                                 what lies ahead - 

     their hands across                                                     The city where your

     the white;                                                                   dreaming is repaid,

     Rain prints the sudden                                              The lives which wait

     darkness of its weight;                                              hidden as yet, unread."

     Sun falls and leaves the 

     bleaching evidence of light.

And this is in the Winter Garden. I couldn't find the author but some sterling detective work by John at the wonderful http://bystargooseandhanglands.blogspot.com/ has identified this as a poem called 'Twinned with Mars' by Roger McGough. Thanks, John. 

Green oasis

You might be forgiven for wondering why the monks of Kirkstall Abbey chose the spot for their monastery, as it is now swallowed up in the urban busyness of Leeds. Hundreds of years ago though, it would have been a tranquil, rural estate nestled alongside the River Aire. Even today, a few steps away from the visitor centre, amid the trees beside the river, it is a little green oasis of peace, with just a few jackdaws to keep you company.

This seemed a good photo on which to meditate on a Sunday.

'He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters. He refreshes my soul.'

Psalm 23:2-3

May your day be peaceful and your soul be refreshed today.

In the rain

'Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's learning to dance fish in the rain.'

I braved a dull and drizzly afternoon to get some exercise, taking a brisk walk along the canal towpath.  There were two fishermen, side by side, on the canal bank, both under huge umbrellas. Maybe they could talk without seeing one another... or maybe they didn't talk. But if they didn't chat, why did they choose to sit right beside each other?...  On a solitary walk such musings float through my mind like fish.

It's black over Bill's mother's

'It's black over Bill's mother's'' is a phrase you'll probably only understand if you're from the North of England or the Midlands. It's what people say when there are storm clouds visible on the horizon. The origin of the phrase appears to be doubtful. Some say it refers to William Shakespeare, others to Kaiser Wilhelm II, the last German emperor, whose character and foreign policy was changeable and blustering. Others say it has more local origins. But whatever the truth of the phrase, it is often apt round here!

Saltaire's houses are dwarfed by the huge bulk of the Victoria Hall which extends back in a T-shape behind its tower.

Branches

'Your branches can only reach high if your roots go deep.' 

Brian Logue

Five simple rules to be happy...

One of my favourite photos from 2016 with one of my favourite quotes.

Easier said than done, I know, but a brand new year is traditionally the time to make resolutions. The world would perhaps be a better place if we took a few steps in this direction.

Christmas gifts

'On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshipped him. 

Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts 

of gold and of incense and of myrrh.' Matthew 2:11

My Christmas gift to you is this beautiful stained glass window, depicting the visit of the three wise men to the infant Jesus, whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. The window graces the Hope Chapel (named after the first vicar, Rev'd Frederick Beresford Hope) at St. Peter's Church, Shipley - my home church. The church was consecrated in 1909 though the window was added slightly later as a memorial to a parishioner. Much of the fine detail is painted on the glass and it has wonderfully rich colours.

Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I hope you receive gifts today, those wrapped in paper perhaps and, more importantly, those less tangible but nevertheless very real. 

Wishing everyone a very joyful and peaceful Christmas. 

'It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old,

From angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold....

And man, at war with man, hears not

The love-song which they bring. 

O hush the noise, ye men of strife,

And hear the angels sing.'

E H Sears 1810-76

Red bliss

'Every leaf speaks bliss 

to me, fluttering from

the autumn tree.'

Emily Brontë

Let's go fly a kite

'Throw your dreams into space like a kite and you do not know what it will bring back, 

a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.'  

Anais Nin

I took this photo at yet another festival in Roberts Park but it could be anywhere. I really like it. Maybe it chimes in with my current mood of anticipating the playful joys of a new-found freedom. 

Look at that sea...

Wales - Mwnt

'Look at that sea, girls - all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds.'

L M Montgomery - Anne of Green Gables  

(one of my all-time favourite books)

Broken glass

Dance on broken glass, build castles

with shattered dreams and wear 

your tears like precious pearls.

Proud.

Strong. 

Unshakeable.

Anita Krizzan

(Well, you knew one day, on one of my lunchtime walks, I'd stop and take photos of those shattered windscreens on the cars in the scrapyard!)

Imagine... create... dream... become...

Spotted in a dusty window in Hebden Bridge, this seems a particularly 'Hebden' sentiment. The town has for many, many years been a magnet for creative types, with a strong streak of non-conformist, bohemian - even eccentric - creativity and a rather 'new age' vibe. It all adds to its charm, individuality and strong community focus.

Advice from a tree

Advice from a tree:

Stand tall and proud

Think long term

Embrace with joy the changing seasons

Remember your roots

Drink plenty of water

Be content with your natural beauty

Be flexible

Enjoy the view

Taken from a poem by Ilan Shamir

The Dew Stones

The objective of my walk was still there though... a pair of carved stones known as the Dew Stones, part of the Stanza Stones project that I have mentioned before (see here and here).  The poem is by the gifted local poet Simon Armitage, and the stones were carved by Pip Hall (remember my piece about her from the Saltaire Arts Trail earlier this year?)  They form part of the Stanza Stones Poetry Trail, across the high Pennine watershed, commissioned in 2012 as part of the Ilkley Literature Festival.

I really loved this poem:
... the touchy fuse-wire of parched grass...
one spark enough to trigger a march on the moors by ranks of flame.
Dew enters the field under cover of night, tending the weary and sapped,
lifting its thimble of drink to the lips of a leaf...
here where bog cotton flags its surrender...

To me there is something deeply satisfying about discovering a work of art and poetry set so naturally amidst the beauty of our lovely countryside, in itself poetic. Well worth the walk, to drink in the words and the artistry that carved them and the view and the fresh air. As refreshing as the dew itself.

[Click on the photo to view it larger]

Tied up

'We learn the rope of life by untying its knots.'  (Jean Toomer)

Petals

'By plucking her petals, you do not gather the beauty of the flower.' Rabindranath Tagore

Or do you...?  I was inspired to 'play' by seeing the fallen petals of rhododendrons.