Tag Archives: trees

The beholding I

Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to make a fuss about it. But I think I’ve acquired a supernatural power. I know. Unlikely. But I’ve suspected it for some time and on Sunday I decided I was right. You see, … Continue reading

Posted in Art, jaunts & going out, Britain now & then, Lancashire & the golf coast, Nature notes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

“The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words”

You know me, never one word where 932 or so will do. But today I’m going to give you pictures and little else. Yes, okay, I admit it, the red words in my last post did cause a minor tiff. … Continue reading

Posted in Britain now & then, Lancashire & the golf coast, Nature notes | Tagged , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

Trampled. Green. And sparkly

Flick. Skim. Flick. That was me, last Sunday, with the newspaper. Jaded with news, jaded with the world. Just jaded. Then an opinion piece caught my eye. About ‘the song of the selfie siren’. And the deaths that result from … Continue reading

Posted in Art, jaunts & going out, Lancashire & the golf coast, Thinking, or ranting, or both | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

More things in heaven and earth

Last Saturday, early in the afternoon, I stood before a cottage window, gazing across a wide valley. Filtered through mist, great hills rose and fell, like whales caught in freeze frame, arcing from a hazy sea. Below the window, mere … Continue reading

Posted in Lancashire & the golf coast, Thinking, or ranting, or both, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Autumn. A little too close for comfort, this time

It’s been the most beautiful autumn I can remember. The stillness of each reluctant dawn. The drama of the sunrise, turning the world from grey to lemon, gold to rose. The vast, v-shaped skeins of pink-footed geese heading for the … Continue reading

Posted in Art, jaunts & going out, Lancashire & the golf coast, Thinking, or ranting, or both | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Blowing in to an old new world

A Strauss waltz dances from the breakfast radio. Outside, the headless firs wave their arms like frenzied violinists in some arboreal orchestra. The tall birches, double basses of the tree world, waver and shiver, constrained by their stature – and … Continue reading

Posted in Lancashire & the golf coast, Religious for a year: Atheist-man's experiment | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments