Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts
Monday, 11 January 2010
Thursday, 24 December 2009
Frosty Flowers and Chimes
"Chimes" by Alice Meynell
Brief, on a flying night
From the shaken tower,
A flock of bells take flight
And go with the hour.
Like birds from the cote to the gales,
Abrupt - O hark!
A fleet of bells set sails,
And go to the dark.
Sudden the cold airs swing,
Alone, aloud,
A verse of bells takes wing
And flies with the cloud.
Monday, 21 December 2009
Friday, 23 October 2009
Winter lays in front of us so at the moment, the nuts and berries are there for the taking, but soon life will not be so easy for our wildlife. Time for us all do our bit to help them to survive.
At the eastern edge of the Lake District near Penrith in Winter a very cute red squirrel is the star of this video.
The small red squirrel has retreated further north as its territory is taken over by the introduced American grey and here in Cumbria we are at the edge of the red's home. Sadly there are only about 211,000 left in the whole country, and half of those are in Scotland. It is always a treat when you spot a fluffy red, but locally I have only, so far, seen the grey this year.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Snow

Well at last we got some snow in this little sea-girt corner. The rest of the country seems to have had a ton of it over the past weeks.
Inland the Lake District fells are covered with snow and this has unfortunately kept the Mountain Rescue teams busy, especially in the Langdale/Ambleside area. Someone (Martin Campbell) was filming in the Langdale Valley and caught one of the rescues off Bowfell. See the helicopter.

Bowfell - Climbers' Traverse
Taken by Ann Bowker
Saturday, 10 January 2009
Keep in the heart the journal nature keeps
From 'Preludes for Memnon'
by Conrad Aiken
From 'Preludes for Memnon'
by Conrad Aiken
Keep in the heart the journal nature keeps;
Mark down the limp nasturtium leaf with frost;
See that hawthorn bough is ice-embossed,
And that the snail, in season, has his grief;
Design the winter on the window pane,
Admit pale sun though cobwebs left from autumn;
Remember summer when the flies are stilled;
Remember spring, when the cold spider sleeps.
Such diary, too, set down as this: the heart
Beat twice or thrice this day for no good reason;
For friends and sweathearts dead before their season;
For wisdom comes too late, and come to naught.
Put down 'the hand that shakes', 'the eye that glazes';
The 'step that falters betwixt thence and hence';
Obseerve that hips and haws burn brightest red
When the North Pole and sun are most apart.
Mark down the limp nasturtium leaf with frost;
See that hawthorn bough is ice-embossed,
And that the snail, in season, has his grief;
Design the winter on the window pane,
Admit pale sun though cobwebs left from autumn;
Remember summer when the flies are stilled;
Remember spring, when the cold spider sleeps.
Such diary, too, set down as this: the heart
Beat twice or thrice this day for no good reason;
For friends and sweathearts dead before their season;
For wisdom comes too late, and come to naught.
Put down 'the hand that shakes', 'the eye that glazes';
The 'step that falters betwixt thence and hence';
Obseerve that hips and haws burn brightest red
When the North Pole and sun are most apart.
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