About Me

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Bristol , United Kingdom
I am co-director of the Leaping Word Poetry Consultancy, which provides advice for poets on writing, editing and publishing, as well as qualified counselling support for those exploring personal issues in their work - https://theleapingword.com. My fifth poetry collection, Learning Finity, is now available from Indigo Dreams or directly from me.

Saturday, 4 July 2020

More TED Walks in the ... well, we think it's still the time of Coronavirus Pt 9

Not been anywhere. Crap weather, for the most part.  Also, it's the worst bits about life that seem to have been reinstated, despite the continuing presence of Coronavirus - working from work, Wetherspoons, golf, shopping as a hobby, queuing traffic. The best bits - poetry events and writing groups, theatre and gigs, hugging people you love, and feeling safe - have not. 

Though there's still the meadow and the common to explore in good weather and bad. And I even caught an almost midsummer sunrise from my bedroom window one morning ...

... and a picture book moon over thistles.

And wildlife! Here's some of my wildlife photography. (I'm prepared to wait for seconds to get the perfect shot.)

A rabbit

A bumble on bramble

A wood pigeon stripping cherries from a tree

A kestrel

A flock of rooks and jackdaws 

A dead hedgehog (or a very uncomfy slipper). My cousin reliably informs me that this is the work of a badger. 

The fox who is always waiting for us in the road when we get home, ready for a stand-off with the eponymous TED

My photos of trees and flowers are generally more successful. 

Here's some June blackberries ...

... and two of my favourite trees which we don't see so often now most of the golf course is out-of-bounds.

(It was dusk on a Saturday night and no one was playing.) 

And this is the magnificent ash in the ditch, nearly hidden from view now by brambles and bindweed.  

Purple hogweed seeds

Wild carrot, entering the Queen Mother's Hat circa 1965 stage of seed-setting

My favourite not-an-umbellifer, yarrow ... 

... and another beloved, the red-berried rowan

Golden rod

I've stopped wondering whether this year's ubiquitous crow garlic is the triffid component of Covid-19, and now think it might be the cure, right under our anosmic noses. After all, there's lungwort for pulmonary problems, and woundwort for wounds. So why not crow garlic for Corvid-19?

As well as walking over the golf course to the meadow and Charlton Common, we've also had cause to walk past Horfield Common the other evening. It was lovely. 

The Church of the Holy Trinity with St Edmund
And it made a change to be watching the sunset from a different viewpoint from usual, in this case the former parade ground opposite what used to be Horfield Barracks but is now a housing development full of assorted shoe boxes ... 

... even though the meadow and Charlton Common sunsets remain a huge bonus of life in (varying stages of) lockdown.

Charlton Common

Solstice sunsets on the highest part of the Welsh Hills 

Getting a bit Old Testament

These walks in the same small area have been as much a mapping of an era (and a very strange one at that) as of place and the changing seasons. Bud to flower to berry. Floret to seed. I've committed Lady Macbeth's speech to memory for hand-washing purposes and can now identify at least some of the more common umbellifers. I've made an important decision about my future. And already the jackdaws and rooks are starting to flock again, and the setting sun is beginning its crawl back along the Welsh hilltops towards winter.


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