Rainy day near Leeds

The rain pours down, as I take two grandchildren to holiday activities. Swish of windscreen wipers, and tyres on the wet road.

When we've dropped Rose off at a friend's house, I give Isaac the sat nav to follow, though he knows the way fine well. He gives me directions as we cut through the outskirts of Leeds, and the scenery changes from suburban chic to rural. 

He's looking forward to a day with ponies, learning all about how and what to feed them. Against my expectations, this lad turns out to be animal crazy. 

One wrong turn and Mrs SatNav puts us right in a trice. 

I deposit Isaac, don't embarrass him with a hug, and drive away. My first instinct is to head for the hills, but I don't have a decent map or my hiking boots. Ok, I'll make my way back, though the prospect of sitting in a wet house is less than appealing. 

On the way I pass the back entrance to Goldenacre Park. I stop at the car park, put my old trainers on, and my waterproof coat. 

Lots of free benches

Never mind the rain, I need air and exercise! And I know there's a café too.

As usual, dog walkers are out in all weathers, and smiling, greeting everyone, chatting. We're all glad to be outside. 

The trees glisten with moisture, and as I approach the flower gardens, the colours glow like fresh paint.  

I have no intention of resisting the cafe, and it's still raining. 

Ducks never mind the rain

 The rain eases off and I take a long route home via Eccup reservoir, where I get a glimpse of proper Yorkshire scenery, with stone walls, and misty hills.

Ragwort, out of the way of horses, feeds cinnabar moth caterpillars. 

Ducks and loads of martins looking for insects

martins swoop low
over rain-splashed water
seeking food
insects galore
this English summer

Herons

A walk along the Grand Union Canal was rich in heron sightings.

Bird, watching . . .

heron

under a tree

eyes us and the water

flies up

stitches the canal side in loops

wary as we walk

snapping

pauses, poised,

dips in to fish ,

then takes off, 

neat-legged

across the water

The lock-keeper

His cup of tea on the window ledge

he watches through the glass

a narrowboat goes through the lock

a gleam of polished brass

Jack kept the lock when working boats

hauled goods along the water

Couples toiled and lived on board

along with sons and daughters.

The hour or so it took to rise

the seventy feet or more

was put to use in passing news

and building living lore.

Now Jack stands there, cast in bronze

beside the window still

to watch another motley crew

rise and descend this hill.

We walk the tow path one fine morn

and pause for tea and cake.

You stand near Jack in mirror pose

and bring the past awake.

Seasonal cappuccino

small cappuccino 
dressed for summer -
sunshade? umbrella?

or turn it upside down
whatever floats your boat.

skygazing

early evening star
Venus - a narrow crescent
approaching the sun

Nonsense and rain

Written on May 1st - I think we may be near the forty days without one entirely dry by now. Possibly?


Forty days


On my head is the hat of gloom,
she intoned.
No one gave me the hat of carefree jollity, alas.

The old man’s snoring in the rain
while the ducks are singing in tune tonight.

How many more days before the forty total’s up?
Hey, Swithun? 
I thought it was in July that you objected
when they moved your bones indoors.

Though Doctor Foster’s refusal to return
was to Gloucester
not Winchester
Will they need another diver 
to keep the foundations flood-free now?

I counted – twenty-nine so far
Unless I am mistaken.

ISS - just before 2200 hours

from west to east
high and bright in starlit sky
ISS glides by

Saturn

Harry takes the telescope out in the garden – it’s fairly dark away from the streetlights, and the sky is clear.
Saturn is just above the roof. He adjusts the eyepiece and sets it up so that I can look. I can never quite believe that this planet, with its clear rings, is real.

through the lens
a magic cartoon planet
I laugh in delight

swallow and summer

I watch a swallow
swooping round a muddy field
not summer yet

or:

a single swallow
swooping round a muddy field
does not make summer

or

a single swallow
swoops round a muddy field
it's not yet summer

Pitsford Water circuit

Since I was most certainly not 'in the haibun vein', I offer this ginko - a series of haiku about a walk:

10 .30  am

cars unload people

bikes, boots and backpacks


human sundial
I am the pointer 
time to go

seven sunlit miles

around the water

though the wind blows cold

cowslips bloom

swans swim on the lake

kestrels windhover

JCBs cart stones

to reinforce the banks

water or fishing

the last two miles drag
i could touch the car park

but the path turns away

baguettes and coffee

deferred gratification
nearly 1 pm

Rain after dry weather - haibun

The rain which has been threatening arrives just after lunch. I dash outside to help my friend bring her washing in from the garden. It’s already dried, but now the clothes are dotted with damp splodges - still worth the effort since a couple of hours on the airer will leave it ready to put away or iron if need be, instead of sodden and dripping on the line.

I drive home to the swish of the windscreen wipers – earlier I’ve cleaned dust from the glass, thinking it would cause glare in the sunlight. 

dry weather dust
raindrops on the windscreen
wipers work hard

Another cup of tea – the hasty tea-bag variety – and I wander upstairs to the computer. I hear an odd sound and look out of the window. 

There’s a girl, aged about eight, sitting on the sill of her bedroom window, legs dangling. The window is just above the garage roof, a very short drop. She’s singing, not the greatest tune, but I decide it must be rain-madness after a couple of weeks of dry weather. I think of myself at her age, and reckon I’d have been dancing on the garage roof. In New York kids’ upstairs rooms have to have safety bars. Just as well.

change excites
children enjoy
a sense of danger

The Newton Rebellion

In June 1607, a thousand peasants gathered here.  They were protesting against the landowners' enclosure of common land.  Forty of them were killed, and the leaders later hanged and quartered.  The body parts were displayed throughout Northamptonshire as a deterrent to others.

I drive round to my friend’s house – it’s the first time I’ve seen her since I returned from the States.  Today we’re going to take a short walk – the magical weather of March is threatening to break into serious April showers. I know we need the water, but it can wait a couple of hours.

We pass tiny Shetland ponies who nuzzle their gate in hope, but we have nothing to offer but photographs. 

An ancient dovecot, which must have provided many a good meal over the years, stands alone in a field.  

The old church is outside the village, and was the scene of a bloody episode in 1607.  Peasants rose up in protest as local landowners took the common land and enclosed it.  A thousand gathered and the landowners’ army killed forty

More were taken prisoner and held in the church.  The leaders were hanged and quartered, and the quarters displayed in towns across the county to warn others.

an old church

by a field with a dovecot

once not so peaceful

Monday morning walk

After a month of haiku-a-day, some of us on WD are moving on to a haibun-a-day.  I'm no expert, but it seems that it's basically a piece of prose, with haiku to illuminate, provide focus etc.  This is actually posted on my walks blog as well:

A walk arranged with the usual crew, a stroll not a march in April. We amble along the dusty track, through the gate, down the hill, over the four-stile obstacle and up the field, through the new gate that has replaced the decrepit stile and down to Kirby Hall where the gift shop is open early for Easter holiday visitors, convenient for a very early coffee stop. A peacock greets us, but refuses to display his many-eyed tail, even in the presence of a pale peahen.

We go up the hill to the road, and cross. Our path leads us to a building site. Yet more commercial development – for all the jobs that are coming this way some time in the future. Further on is the race-track, another ugly scar, which promised the earth – you can’t fight progress and money.

After a brief stop to eat bananas, we walk along past the new composting plant – the smell is not bad just now, but can be ferocious in the summer. The path is clear, apart from one field where the farmer hasn’t made it good – we know where it should be and head straight across, though, in a few weeks, we’ll be forced to walk round.

Two and a quarter hours, about five miles and we’re home and dry in time for another coffee.

a familiar walk

but everything changes

a constant complaint

too busy chatting

wrapped up in ourselves

up there were skylarks

Tom's 21st

Saturday night


tonight we partied
for Tom's twenty-first
I forgot earth hour

Tom’s parents hold a party for his twenty-first birthday. 7lb 1 oz, April 1st 1991, 2.38 am. We’re pleased we’re not expected to stay up until the minute, and the cake is cut before midnight. They pass round a scrapbook from when he was a scrap, through early artistic and literary efforts, school reports, dressings-up, travels.
He’s happy to play the fool, but his future promises more than a fool’s paradise.
Good luck, lad, and many happy returns.

twenty-one candles
shaped like champagne bottles
with edible photo


Harry's limerick (aided and abetted by me, Anne and Dave):




There was a young fellow named Tom
who embarked on a filmic sit-com
although quite aghast
at the size of the task
he carried it off with aplomb

a walk round the village in the dark

street lights shine

but look beyond

Selene holds court

no humans on foot

cats lurk

 owls hoot

two people

These are two quite separate scenes:

painted flowerpots

and a woman knitting

by a narrowboat

on the roof he lies

basking among the baggage

is he cooked yet?

treecreeper at Foxton Locks

bullrush spikes

seed-down like haloes

backlit by the sun

brimstones and peacocks

violets' subtle sweet scent

in late March warmth

pub by the towpath

we drink icy lemonade

treecreeper seeks bugs

midnight

midnight clear sky

planets, stars, galaxies

and hedgehog shuffles

on your bike

bike round the water

new lagoons are promising

a lapwing flies by

sky again

 ruddy-winged starlings

fly as sunset glows below

new moon and Venus

sunset glow  birds flight

crescent moon and half Venus

and a vapour trail

or perhaps better than either:

starlings' wings glow pink

above the sunset

new moon and Venus