Frost and mist on the Frome

It was a misty and frosty morning, so Cwtch and I decided to have a wander down by the River Frome in Stapleton and Eastville.

Church of the Holy Trinity, Stapleton

First we headed down to the lake in Eastville Park. I had a hankering to see a heron ...  

... but the lake was heron-free and the fish breathed easy.

my favourite beech tree

I was a  bit surprised to see a tree in the water on the opposite side of the lake, assuming Storm Darragh, which was quite a while ago now, had brought it down, but when I got home, I read that it had fallen during peace time, so to speak, between Darragh and Storm Eowyn. As the water fowl are currently looking for nesting sites, it's going to stay put the time being.

purple jelly disc fungi

As the path on the other side of the lake was closed, I made my way back along a higher path through trees, from which there was a close-up view of the felled hornbeam. It's always sad to see a big tree downed.

There were several pairs of crows sitting about doing not a lot really ... 

... and near the favourite beech, three cormorants hanging out at the top of a tree. I took a video of the pair's courtship, but I can't seem to post videos right now, so here's a still instead. 

Back on the path, another look at the fallen tree, and ooh look, now there's four cormies.

magpie

Before we walked back up C*lston Hill, we made a quick detour to Wickham Bridge.

See, I'm a good girl and I don't chase bikes

lamp post base

Then it was back up through the lane with its ancient, buttressed walls ... 

... and past the church to the where our car was waiting for us. 

The next morning was much more dull, but we had unfinished business in Eastville park, namely, a walk to the hitherto-unvisited-by-us cemetery Ridgeway Park, which is situated at its edge.

Looking over to Purdown mast and Holy Trinity

Ridgeway Park Cemetery was established as a non-municipal cemetery in 1887, and was apparently wound up in 1949 ... 

... although according to this grave, James and Rosina Bywater, father and mother of Edna, who died aged 7 in 1910, joined her in 1963 and 1975 respectively. 

Now, don't you tread on those crocuses!

At the edge of the cemetery, it becomes wood with gravestones, much like its larger counterpart, Arnos Vale, in the south of the city. 

If we'd entered the cemetery through the main gates, we'd have seen that dogs are supposed to go in there, but having accessed it from the park, we missed the signs. In any case, Cwtch was well-behaved and respectful, unlike some of the vegetation. 

Tree eats headstone

Back down by the lake, the crows were still sitting about, wondering when it's time to start nest-refurbishing, but there was only one cormorant in the tree. Apparently they nest in Avon Gorge, so maybe the others were carrying out reconnaissance there.

Filling January with poetry

I don't do that well in winter, being encumbered with Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I try to fill it with poetry to compensate for having to take the Christmas lights down. 

This year was my third year of doing Kim Moore and Clare Shaw's January Writing Hours, which offers the discipline of an hour a day responding to poems and prompts. Sadly, I can only ever attend four per week because of fixed work commitments, but even so, after a two-year break from writing poems following the completion of my most recent collection, 'Love the Albatross', I feel I might be getting ready to start writing again, and so it was good to smell the distant whiff of poetry on the air. And it's always wonderful to encounter poets and poems you might not have come across otherwise. 

I also volunteered to read at a few poetry events, largely to make myself do it despite the dark and the longing to hibernate. The first of these was the launch of Di Slaney's new pamphlet, 'January conversations, with dogs', published by Valley Press. Di was looking for poets with poems about dogs to read at the launch, so I sent her a copy of 'The Good Dogs of Chernobyl', which was published in my 2019 collection, 'The Shadow Factory', and was delighted when it, and I, were chosen to take part. And although they were mostly distant, Northern, god-like poets involved, whom I 'know' from social media but have never met, I instantly felt part of a warm poetry community - it was a beautiful launch of a thoughtful, dog-accompanied collection of poems that never tip into sentimentality, skilfully illustrated by poet and artist, Jane Burn. And yes, I bought two copies, one for us and one for dog-owning, poetry-publishing friends, and if you like dogs and poems, you should too. 

                         

Mid-month and I left Bristol for the first time this year to travel to Bradford-on-Avon for the second Poetry@Roots reading at Bradford Roots Music Festival. I read at the first one last year, on the grounds that not wanting to leave my settee to drive along the frankly scary Sally-in-the-Wood in winter's dark was exactly the reason why I should do it, and it was a such a shiny experience, I jumped at the chance to do it all again. 

Organiser and compere Dawn Gorman

This year there were guest readings by Kate Noakes and Christine McFarlane, who was launching her first collection, 'Irish Elk and other Extinctions'. Dawn, who organises every event she puts on so very competently, but without the least hint of bossiness, interviewed Kate and Christine for The Poetry Place on West Wilts Radio, and also Dominic Fisher and me about the forthcoming anthology from the IsamBards, 'Dancing on the Bridge'. You can hear us here, at about 6 minutes and 25 seconds in. 

Taking to the Golden Gudgeon stage

Then, right at the end of the month, two readings within 18 hours of each other, the first a Manchester Metropolitan University Alumni Showcase, at Manchester Poetry Library, which I joined online. 

Compere Kim Moore with a bottle of beer and fellow-reader, Rachel Carney, listening to a collaborative reading on the theme of dementia by Hilary Robinson and Rachel Davies

I always find Teams and Zoom readings slightly terrifying in case a) someone rings the doorbell and the dog goes ape, or b) I suffer a technical disaster and find I can't join the reading, or the internet goes down - none of which has happened yet, though that doesn't stop me worrying. This time, there was even more jeopardy, as we're between kitchens right now, and out of camera shot, I was surrounded by tottering piles of crockery, rusting pots and pans, jars of condiments bought with the most exciting of intentions in 2018 that somehow got pushed to the back of the cupboard and never used, etc, etc. In the end, I took the precaution of shutting poor Cwtch the Collie upstairs, from where she tried to dig her way back down through the ceiling, though this wasn't audible in Manchester. As for the notification which kept popping up, telling me I had a poor network connection, I just ignored it and it was OK. 

Rachel Carney's view from the audience

Since this might have been my last contact with MMU, I'm pleased it went well. I loved studying for my MA, and having the space to write about the difficult subject of estrangement was important to me as I negotiated my experience of it. It was also exhilarating hearing the poetry some of my peers - Rachel Carney, Betty Doyle, Simon Costello, Hilary Robinson and Rachel Davis - have written.

The final reading of the month wasn't at all scary because it was on my home ground, at Silver Street Poetry and Open Mic, of which I'm one of the co-organisers. Knowing everyone there makes for a safe space in which I can be a little more frank about the circumstances behind the 'Love the Albatross' poems than I might be otherwise. And of course, people know me in return, which means I know I won't be judged. 

Action MC moment from Dominic Fisher

It means a lot to me when people who, it turns out, have experience of estrangement come up to me after a reading and tell me how much these poems have touched them. 

Finally, the last poem from 'Love the Albatross' to come home to roost did so in the pages of Indigo Dreams' The Dawntreader. A fine place for it to land. Thanks to Ronnie and Dawn for everything.