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Bristol , United Kingdom
Poet and poetry facilitator. Pushcart Prize nominated. Co-founder 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 sixth poetry collection, Love the Albatross, is now available from Indigo Dreams or directly from me.

Monday, 8 June 2020

TED Walks in the time of Coronavirus Pt 7

Still not straying far from home, though that might change a bit now my car's passed its MOT and I'm not so anxious about the prospect of breaking down. 

But only if we can find somewhere to go that isn't too crowded.
Snuff Mills, where the River Frome runs through its gorge into the centre of Bristol, is a favourite destination, and it was busy the first time we went there, on a hot sunny day during half term and in the middle of a pandemic.
Though the worst noise was coming from the jays in the trees just past the car park and garden.
And it wasn't so crowded that you couldn't get away from it all, and listen to the ravens chatting overhead. 



A week later parts of the path were looking decidedly bridal, being covered in fluff that the breeze blew into a long train of figured lace. Willow seeds, maybe?  

And bouquets of hemlock water dropwort. All very gothic. 

A dancing oak

Meanwhile the meadow and the woods we walked in every evening during the strictest part of the lockdown are looking very summery. The elders are masquerading as William Morris designs ...

... and flowers are intent on growing in the most improbable of places.



There are still sunsets ... 

... but essay deadlines (the Northerner) and having to work from work instead of home (me) has clipped our wings a bit.

In fact, the lifting of the lockdown has changed a lot of things.  



Here is one of the few lone-standing thorn trees we can get to now the golfers are back. 

An early morning squirrel

Charlton Common

A way through the woods



The meadow oak in high summer



When the meadow's too far to get to, there's the dead to commune with. 

In this first wave of the virus, I know three people who have died. 



Nothing is certain from day to day, and sometimes it's scary. But then there are amazing moments, like when a hated statue is hauled from its plinth and all the cruelty and ugliness it has represented for so long is chucked in the harbour, and I think yes, I really want to be around to see how this turns out. 

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