About Me

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Bristol , United Kingdom
I'm 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.

Thursday 5 November 2020

The Frome Valley in Autumn

That's the Bristol Frome, obviously. We stayed close to home over half term with the infection rate rocketing. Not that the other Fromes aren't fairly local, but there you go. Or rather don't. 

My first Frome walk was with the Northerner in the late days of October. We'd intended to walk around Eastville Lake but the road was closed, so we diverted to Snuff Mills instead. It was still very odd being there and being dogless but important to walk these places in Ted's honour, I think. 

It wasn't long before we saw a heron fishing in the middle of the river, and the Northerner spotted a turquoise streak that was a kingfisher, far too fast for any camera. 

Most of the time, though, we were just admiring the colours of the leaves, which have been particularly bright and cheering this year ... 

... and the troops of fungi ... 

... and the never-not-strange-even-though-familiar way the trees grow between cracks in the rocks of the little gorge and cling on with their roots. 

Lovely Snuff Mills, place of earliest childhood and encroaching old age, and right in the middle of the city.

My second Frome walk was with Son the Elder in early November, making the most of getting out before the second lockdown. (Which isn't going to be any different for me as I still have to dice with Covid-19 in my place of work, which is a school. But that's by the by.) Further towards town this time, and heading downstream instead of up. In fact, we started by walking down Cut Throat Lane, which is always atmospheric. Literally - there always seems to be a bit of bluish haze in it.

Here's the Church of the Holy Trinity, looking elegant as always.

Colston Hill must have had a local name before local slavetrader Edward was born. Can we uncover it, please, and reclaim it? 

There was a pocket of frost down by Black Rocks, the first for me this autumn.

The sight of Eastville Lake as it comes into view is always pleasing. It had a matching rust-coloured dog this time ...

... plus its resident heron, of course.

And a couple of kingfishers, which meant a few more rubbish photos to add to my collection. Can you spot it?

It's here.

Thank gawd for swans. Easy to photograph and quite happy to come very close. To see you off if necessary. 

Then it was back along the Frome a little way, over the bridge and up the hill to the car, hoping for a few more bright days through lockdown and into winter. 


  1. Lovely photos...and lovely memories to see you through xx