Expectation

Well, I have the greatest expectation of all this year... totally unexpected... for I am to be a GRANDMOTHER !!

My son at 44 is to be a first time father. Unfortunately their wedding was twice postponed last year... but there you are, these things happen! 

So I've been sewing, knitting and crocheting for the 'expected ' child. Whose sex is not to be revealed it seems. Therefore most of the items made include 'neutral' colours... lots of yellow, turquoise, jade, orange and the like. A couple of days ago I received a delivery of stretch fabrics so that I can make suitable clothes.. .the only thing is - I have not had any dealings with babies for over 40 years! Trying to draft patterns is rather interesting to say the least. The one book I have must be equally as old and refers to 'layettes', nightgowns and smocking! 

       

I have been at a loss, however, to express my feelings in any writing so I attempted yesterday evening to jot down a few lines....

To You
When you are born
What joy you'll bring
I've waited a long time
To meet you , say "Hello,
Welcome to the world."

When you are toddling
What strife you'll bring.
No holding you back.
Walking towards life
And all it's adventures.

When you are learning,
What knowledge you'll gain.
I'll learn beside you.
We'll share time together -
Absorbing knowledge.

When you reach the teenage years
What angst you'll have
Toward the world in general.
But we'll work together
And succeed in the end.

Probably I'll not see you wed.
What love you will have-
For you will be grown
And ready to embark
On life's continuing adventure.


Thanks for reading, Kath.        

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The Sea

    We are very fortunate in this country that no place is far from the sea. I was brought up in Aberdeen, but our house was on the very boundary of the city so we were about 6 miles from the beach...and what a beach ! Miles of golden sands. Hence the  saying...the Silver city by the golden sands. All along the east coast there are wonder beaches backed by sand dunes and then cliffs that tower over secluded bays. The North Sea has a distinctive aroma about it that I was made very aware of when I holidayed at Cresswell on the NE coast of England. It was nostalgic for me and I've not experienced that scent on this local coastline.

  I always long for the sea. When I lived in Oxford it was a 6 weekly ritual to go to either Poole or Weymouth- as I had a yearning for the seaside. Just to walk along a seafront or sit on the sand..just to breathe the air.

   Then when we moved to Buckie we had a cliff top house looking out over the Moray Firth to the mountains of Caithness in the distance. I had a chair placed in the bay window where I could look down onto Whale's Wig (the name of the small cove below). On stormy days we'd hear the pebbles rolling up and down the shoreline, foam would fly over us and land on the windows. I'd keep a look out for boats across the Firth, expecting at any moment to see one disappear below the waves...but the lifeboat would often race out to rescue.

  Strangely although I still live in a seaside town I don't have the same urge to see the sea. I have never walked on the sand in Cleveleys nor Blackpool, and only on a few occasions have I pottered round the wave line in Fleetwood. You see I have a fear of quicksands and turning tides that I never had along the North Sea coastline.It is quite irrational. I don't like the texture and colour of the sands along this coast either.

   I have just returned from a brief holiday in Kintyre where the coastline is punctuated by long inlets and sea lochs where the character is again completely different. Where rivers enter and the tide retreats the shore is muddy and claggy. In others, the shore is littered with large boulders and bounded by interesting strata creating rock pools to explore. Each inlet had its own micro climate. So it might be cool and raining in one and a short drive to the next would provide a sunny , warm atmosphere. 

   I jotted down a few thoughts after spending an idyllic couple of hours at Melfort Bay.

                 

Melfort Bay

Walk with me along the shore of Melfort Loch,

Where the tide is out leaving behind dried seaweed

Which crunches underfoot.

 Across the mirrored water I see Islay and the Paps of Jura.

The sun is glinting on the still water

Making me squint and reach for sunglasses.

Shoreside rocks are laid down in horizontal layers

Forming natural steps with pools of seawater

Where small fish are trapped and panic at my footsteps.

The land behind me is rough pasture grazed by Highland cattle.

Merging into bracken and heather on a rugged crag

 That rises to pierce the clear blue sky.

I turn again towards the sea and let my eyes explore the scene--

A yacht is anchored close to shore- a swimmer floats nearby.

A sound attracts my attention, and I spy a small boat heading for an islet.

Two goats spy me and trot over to the fence,

Allowing me to tickle their noses and ears.

Reluctantly I turn away from the soundless sea -

Vowing to return...

Thank you for reading, Kath

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Sideboards

 Some time after we moved to Scotland from London my parents bought a dining suite comprising an extending table with 6 chairs and a sideboard. These items were walnut veneered . The sideboard was a statement piece to say the least ! These items were almost revered by my mother ( I expect they cost a lot of money ). The living room was out of bounds all the day. we only went in there at 7pm and vacated by 10pm , when my mother put everything straight, plumped up cushions and carpet swept the floor. The table was only used at Christmas...for the rest of the year it sat in the bay window..highly polished with a vase of plastic flowers on a doily placed in the centre. I recall my grandmother looking after me and she leant over to look out of the window , placing a  hand on the table. I immediately upbraided her for that action as I was quite forbidden to touch the table ! She, taken aback, quickly retorted. You see I knew no different !

 The sideboard was placed along the opposite wall. It seemed huge ! Standing about 4' high and 6' long..or as it appeared to me ! It was very highly polished and sported a couple of 'Grecian' style miniature vases placed one at either side and a matching flower container (plastic flowers again ). Its ' piece de resistance' was that the top was a cocktail cabinet  cleverly hidden behind doors. When these doors were opened together the top lifted and an edifice of glass and brass in burgundy and gold appeared, dazzling in the light. My mother kept the very best glasses in there all neatly arranged equally on both sides on a raised balcony affair, with cut glass wine glasses ,again strategically placed on the base. To finish this off the centre lifted , and this held cocktail sticks . Not your run of the mill ones No! These were steel with ornamented tops..sort of like hat pins !

 These items of furniture were to be respected, and seldom used. Heavens , my parents didn't imbibe ! I was allowed to use the cocktail cabinet once, purely for affect you realise. 

  Just before I married I hosted an evening where friends and relatives came round to admire the wedding gifts. I prepared canapes and things on sticks ! I could offer guests a glass of wine...and so I could open the cabinet !!

 So, what became of these treasured items. Well - the table was sat upon by a beloved rescued cat as he looked out of the window. The surface had become faded from the sunlight leaving just an imprint of the central vase and the cat's behind! I had left home by then and I heard that a big bonfire was lit in the back garden.

  As for the sideboard I have no idea . I expect it suffered a similar fate ?

  However  the experience of that regime and reverence allotted to such inanimate objects altered my outlook. When my parents visited my my home in Oxfordshire my mother was appalled that I used the living room just as that ...a living room ! She thought we should sit in the kitchen, as done in her home until 7pm !! NO WAY !!

            This image is sort of like it, but I recall drawers on both sides at the top and I'm sure that the top opened up by two doors...

MY MOTHER'S SIDEBOARD

Walnut veneer - mirror imaged grain.

Brass affect handles with elaborate escutcheons.

Small 'Grecian' urns placed to balance the look.

In the centre a matching flower container with plastic blooms.

All to create a look-

You were meant to admire it.

Left-hand drawer was velvet lined for seldom used cutlery.

Right-hand drawer  housed seldom used placemats.

Left-hand cupboard contained folded table linen and booze.

Right-hand cupboard was storage for photographic slides.

All to create a look-

You were meant to exclaim.

The lower drawers held folded tablelinen and photograph albums.

But the top portion was an entertainment in its own right !

Pull out both sides, the top lifted as a gold and glass creation glided forward.

Gleaming and dazzling ! Then the centre rose up !

All to create a look-

You were meant to gasp !

Slowly close the doors and the whole 'circus ring' retreated.

The brightness expired- the centre piece jingled.

Order was maintained for another few months.

Except when mother cleaned and polished every inch.

All to create a look-

You were not meant to touch !

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Collections

Over the years I've collected a variety of things. as a teenager I collected seashells from my travel around the coast of Scotland. these were labelled and displayed in chocolate boxes. When I left a school at sixteen, I gave this collection to the science department.

Once at college I had a vast collection of books relevant to my coursework, and others related to specialist subjects.

As a young married woman I collected bells. So, when visiting places on holiday I would purchase a bell. They came in all sorts of materials ..glass, brass, silver. This was a vast collection and filled a display cabinet in the lounge. Downsizing in 2006 meant that this collection could not come with me, so it was sent to the local auction.

Since living in this area I have  amassed a large collection of books on walking....so many that at my age I will never walk all the routes! To accompany the books I have a large amount of O.S. maps. All these items are kept on bookshelves that I had put up in an alcove.

I also have a collection of DVDs of walks that I have done, holidays I've been on and any special events, since 2001- along with thousands of photographs stored in albums pre 2000, and on computer since then.

     The Collection

      It started with one....just one.
      It had my name etched on it.
      It seemed important.
      It didn't take up much room.
      It looked good on the shelf.
      It didn't remain alone - another took
      It's place alongside it.

      Soon I had half a dozen.
      Cleaned, polished, arranged neatly.
      Made in a variety of materials.
      Reminding me of places I'd been,
      Bought as a souvenir
      Or given as a gift,
      Or a token of love.

      It ended with a hundred ....maybe more ?
      It was  a vast collection.
      It had seemed important.
      It took up too much room.
      It meant a lot of cleaning.
      It was too much - couldn't come.
      It was no longer needed.

Thank you for reading, Kath.....

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Solitude

Well, here I am at long last. Forgive my tardiness as I'm so involved with other things just now that I've not had time to put pen to paper, nor indeed to write up the blog. But hey! I have two hours to spare this afternoon (Thursday ) in hopes that maybe Steve will upload my piece to the blog site as I'm out all day tomorrow.

It seems I seldom get any time to myself these days - yet I relish my solitude. In fact I need it! I say to friends "No, I need that day to myself ."

Perhaps it's because I'm an only child and I got used to making my own entertainment,whiling away the hours by myself, keeping myself occupied.

I've now been widowed ten years next month, and the time has flown by. I've done things I might never have done as one in a 'couple'. Not that I'm saying I've particularly enjoyed being without my partner and I'd wish him back. It's just that it's been rather liberating being able to make my own choices, in my own time , doing things that I enjoy. I know, you may think me callous, but there's a certain freedom in not saying "Shall we ?" or "I'm going out, you don't mind?" etc. Not that he minded anyway, but it is rather uplifting to not have to consider anyone but me!

Most of you will be aware that I go away in my wee microcamper and go hillwalking, on my own. Actually it's not lonely as I meet so many interesting people. When walking quietly on my own I'm more likely to encounter wildlife. I allow myself plenty of time to stop, look around, take photos, and just enjoy the surroundings. It's not uncommon to find me talking to myself, or creatures....even singing softly.

Yes. I relish my solitude. It's food for the soul. It's essential. So today's few words are about walking alone.....
                         

Walking Alone

If, when walking a lonely path, I saw you.

I'd never let you pass me by-

I'd hold your arm, touch your cheek,

Run my fingers through your hair

And endlessly gaze into your eyes.

If, when trekking a lonely trail, I saw you.

I'd softly call your name-

I'd take your hand, kiss your lips,

Stroke your arm, feel your strength

And gaze into your slate blue eyes.

But, no matter where I roam, you're never there.

For you are gone from me forever,

Never again to see your face,

Hear your hearty laugh,

Feeling your breathe on my neck,

Touch you in the night.

The paths I walk, I walk alone.

Thanks for reading, and apologies for recent absence...Kath.

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Elephants

   Firstly let me apologise for my tardiness in writing a regular blog. At present my life is like an episode of a soap opera. Anyway, I settled down for a few minutes earlier this week and wrote this short piece....

   Our old van had a registration number that included the letters ENP, so in order to help me remember the registration,  I made up this little phrase.
         
              "Elephants never party".

   So I came up with this little poem....
             
             
             

                 ENP

   "Hey", says mama elephant,
   " Let's party the night away.
     Put on your brightest gear
    And together we shall sway.
    I like reggae music, but Mildred
    Likes old pop.
    Make it a real all night party,
    We'll dance till we drop.
    Daisy, there, is almost past it,
    But she likes a bit of twist.
    So let's get down and boogie,
    Make sure no one is missed.
    Ethel will bring good food,
    And Dolores even better wine-
    Get us in a good mood.
    We're sure to have a good time.
    Don't say we never party-
    We can party like the best.
    So come on ladies let's travel,
    We haven't got time to rest.
    It's only a few days journey
    To our favourite party spot.
    So tails to trunks together
    And off we'll jolly well trot.

Thank you for reading, Kath

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Sacred locations

My late husband had a great love of history and archaeology, which he passed to me. Don't get me wrong, as an avid map reader I'd always had an interest in not only geography but also the associated  history of places. So it was that he'd ask me to find places that we might visit together and so we discovered henges, stone circles, caves,  forts, old castles and old monasteries etc. Now the significance of   'sacred' places was particularly interesting. I'm not talking just of Christian places here, but of places that would have been regarded as important to early man.

A holiday to Orkney was duly planned, and I made up a good itinerary of places off the beaten track as well as some more 'touristy' areas. It's reckoned that on Orkney there is a site of historical or archaeological importance every mile and a half. So lots to see and do. We took boots, hard hats and torches on top of the general requirements for a campervan holiday. Well, unfortunately early May was not the best month to travel and we experienced all four seasons in the days we were there. Nevertheless we did see some amazing places.

I particularly recall visiting the Ring of Brodgar, and spending a few hours exploring (my husband went fishing after his viewing), I must say that I speculated on the significance of the circle in conjunction with its surroundings. Early man must have regarded the area with some reverence and awe, making into a 'sacred' site. Somehow I felt drawn to remain for some time just musing ....it was very thought provoking.

We might just consider sacred places to be part of our religion...or indeed the religion of others...and they are to those involved. I'm often moved by the vastness and creativity of churches and cathedrals. Not because I regard myself as a religious person , but that I admire the strength of belief shown by the planners, builders , architects and all folk involved in the building...it's totally admirable. Furthermore it doesn't have to involve a vast building, nor indeed a building at all. Just outside Buckie, where I used to live, persecuted Roman Catholics met in a sheepfold adjoining a cottar's dwelling, during the reformation. Returning to Orkney there's the Italian Chapel built by prisoners of war from a couple of Nissen huts ...if you've never been then do 'google' for information as it's absolutely beautiful and is still maintained as a sacred site to this day.

I only have a poem about Durham Cathedral written a few years ago after I visited and climbed up to the rooftop. I have a feeling I might have included this piece in an earlier blog...never mind it's worth repeating (I reckon).

Durham Cathedral. 9th August 2014

Heavenward reaching columns 

Searching for an unseen God.

Built on a foundation of faith 

By men with ardent beliefs.

Into perpetuity this edifice reaches,

With arches that seem to support

Heaven itself !

These faithful tradesmen in stone

Would never know the impact 

Of their labours.

Other meeker structures may tumble in time

But this glory in stone will withstand

Time itself !

Living on, seeking a higher being,

A further meaning to its longevity and strength.

Admired, awed - by men of all creeds and beliefs.

For there is no one religion in this building,

But an admiration by mankind

Of the labour, the skill and the artistry

Of men long departed.

Thanks for reading, Kath

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Boxes

   I use boxes of all shapes and materials as a means of storing things. Sewing items are kept in large plastic stacking boxes, buttons are kept in plastic sweet boxes (I had a friend who worked in a sweet shop), zips are stored on a box that once contained a gas mask! If an item comes in a box then I always try and visualise a new use for the said box. Sometimes a use comes to mind straight away- otherwise I keep the box until a use presents itself .

   When I purchase footwear I always ask for the box as they are an ideal size for storing upright dressmaking patterns or DVDs. I feel rather guilty if I have to dispose of a large box...but even then if it's very large I'll cut it into pieces and keep some for Don to keep pieces of jigsaw on them. The sides of the garage are ' lined ' with a large piece so that I can open the car door without damaging it. (reminds me I need a new piece sometime...).

   On the bookcase I have two grand storage boxes devised from one larger box that contained an oil filled radiator where I stand up a collection of OS maps. Now here I might add that I've always intended to cover the storage with fablon  or nice paper, but I've never got round to it.

   Why only a couple of days ago a friend gave me a portable alarm , and since I already have one , I required a wee box to keep the bits in. Cue the hall cupboard where such boxes lurk...and " hey presto"...a box of just the correct size (another reminder ...I need to label it so I know what it contains).

   Of course, just occasionally, a mystery box turns up - some gift -contents unknown - usually around Christmas time. The expectation is intriguing, but I always resist the temptation to look before the due date and store the box as near to my miniature Christmas tree as I can. So on the day I carefully open it and not only do I cherish the gift within, but yes , I cherish the box too.

   Members of our group know that I have an archive of pieces that I wrote many years ago and they are treasured , having survived all these years in a box -- a box that once contained a gift given to me by a friend of my Dad's.  This gift was a dressing table set for my 16th birthday. Well, the gift no longer survives....but the box does. Quite how it's come with me through the years from one end of the country to the other, and back again twice , I'm not sure....but it has. I'm really grateful for that, as it's a link to my past. A past that was cleared out by my parents when I left home .....

   Anyway I guess I'm a recycler of boxes. They keep things in order. Keep things neat. Keep them handy. Keep them safe. Keep secrets at Christmas.....

   The piece I have for you this week was written in 2014. I was waiting at the bus stop in Cleveleys and a wee lad was pestering his Mum as to the contents of the box she was carrying.

At The Bus Stop

'What's in the box, Mum?'

"You'll have to wait and see"

'What's in the box,Mum.

Is it something nice for me ?'

'What's in the box,Mum -

Whatever can it be?'

What's in the box , Mum.

Is it something nice for tea ?'

'What's in the box, Mum ?'

"Oh you do annoy me!"

'What's in the box ,Mum-

Mum-Mum....?'

"Here comes the bus now,son-

You'll see when we get home."

Thanks for reading this week-  ( reminder - I need to sellotape the corners of the old box containing my poems ....)

                           

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Spring....but has it really sprung ?

I don't know anyone who doesn't look forward to Spring. It's a fickle season though as it seldom decides when it's actually going to become that milder time that we've all anticipated. So one day it becomes warmer as the day progresses and the next there can be snow in the air ! We are subjected to frost at nights, yet by midday we can cast off a layer!

The untidiness of our winter gardens annoys us and so we venture out to cut grass, turnover vegetable plots and buy bedding plants. The result? Backache! Yet eventually the daffodils bloom and the tulips poke their pointed heads through the soil. We feel reassured.

Driving into the countryside , suddenly there are lambs in wee plastic jackets cuddling up to their mothers for warmth as the wind is from the east and is biting cold. Stopping awhile we watch the more robust lambs chasing each other across the fields. Once again we feel reassured.

Hedgerows and trees are bursting with that bright new green that heralds the season and blossom erupts on the magnolias. A few days later and the cherry blossom makes an entrance and the hawthorn too. We notice the arrival of migratory birds and note the date. Other birds may have started nesting and are flying to and fro from nests collecting emerging insects to feed their young. Yes! By now we are definitely reassured. Spring has finally sprung!

This week my good friend and dancing partner celebrated his 91st birthday and since it was such a pleasant day we took advantage of it and had a drive into the countryside. He kept exclaiming about the blossom and the lambs and the various shades of green. Eventually we found ourselves at Leighton Moss where we had lunch looking out at a bird feeder. With a little bit of added imagination I wrote a few lines......

Spring at Leighton Moss

Sat here at a table for two,

With a busy bird table in view.

Visited by chaffinch, bullfinch, greenfinch and all,

To eat the seeds and occasionally brawl !

They sit in the nearby hawthorn bush,

Watching and waiting and in they rush,

To quickly gorge on seeds then fly

To nests with young nearby.

 

Across the fields the lambs do play,

Enjoying the the sunshine this fine day-

Whilst we enjoy a Springtime treat

Of coffee, tea and nice cakes to eat.

'Tis his birthday too this nice Spring day,

We wish him luck and good health we pray.

So we sit at a table for two,

Watching the birds and enjoying the view.

Thanks for reading, Kath.

 

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Summit..climb every mountain or not ?

I've been hillwalking since aged 8. My parents took it up at the same time, so it was a family pastime. With a hiking club, we did indeed attain some summits, but basically it was a walking group and did not just focus on mountains.

That's always been my mantra since then. If I happen to ascend a peak whilst on a walk, then that's just fine, but I don't set off to 'climb' and then descend...because it's the walk I enjoy. Many enthusiasts don't get it and on one particular fb page I was rather nastily treated. I don't care, I know what I enjoy.

As I've got older, of course, it is more difficult for me to gain height at a goodly pace and I need a walk first to warm the old muscles up. Last year I set off up Parlick from the car park at the base. To say I was slow is putting it mildly ! I huffed and puffed, with many stops to admire the view. Once up there I then enjoyed the Ridge walk and spent a happy day pootling along the footpaths - but the sudden ascent was hard on my poor legs !

I have successfully walked out the distance of the Jungfrau glacier at 12k feet, and I didn't feel the affects of the altitude. For , you see, I'd gone up to the "Top of Europe" on the train so the walk then was great. In the Rockies I attained over 12.5k as the walk up was very slow and very long, so I'd got warmed up and into my stride.

Nearer to home I did, however, want to go up Pendle Hill. The route I like is slow and gentle to begin with, then meanders slowly upwards to the summit. I've been up twice...never seen the view ( due to mist) and I've continued round and descended by a different path. It's a nice circular walk. I must , though, really do it again to see the view !

Views make reaching the summit worthwhile. It's wonderful to look upon the countryside from a height. Just to sit and dwell upon the vista. Absorb it. Take it all in. Relax. Ponder. Admire. Just sometimes I'm reluctant to leave a place because I'm overcome by the beauty, and overwhelmed to think that I will , probably, never return to that place again, and I keep glancing back, not wishing to forget.

I wrote two poems about making for Pendle Hill, so I'll choose one to share with you today.

Remember, though, not all summits are on a mountain top......

  Pendle Hill (1)

   My eyes were drawn towards the towering slope.
   Oh! Pendle Hill I've oft looked at you.
   The vista might give rise to joy and hope,
   So sure, indeed, there'd be a wondrous view.

   First time I went it started poor, you see.
   With rucksack packed I set off full of verve,
   But sky was grey, no sun shone down on me.
   Still hopeful, I set off with steely nerve.

   Oh! Pendle Hill, you fickle mountain top-
   The moorland soon by fog was duly kissed,
   The mist came down - I did not want to stop.
   So thick, so chill, so fearsome drifting mist.

   The summit reached.The mist descended cold.
   The view obscured, my hopes no longer bold.


  Thanks for reading, Kath.

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Renewable Energy.

I'm an advocate for renewable energy...not in a large way you understand, just purely a personal view. When we had our large house in Buckie we heated it with mainly wood that we collected either from the beach or from the leftovers of forest felling (with permission).  It was with great glee that we would scour the high tide mark for bits of kindling...a bag full of bits could give a warm bath. After a storm we'd work our way along the coastline, collecting and cutting washed up timber- often that included some rather exotic species or bits of wooden ships! This fire heated ten radiators so was quite a boon and my only regret was that it was inset and not a stove top...as I would have used that too!

When I lived in Aberdeen,  as a youngster, many areas of Scotland were being flooded or utilised for Hydro power. I recall my Dad driving over roads that would soon be flooded as water rose and we'd take trips to see newly constructed Hydro electric power stations. Why only last autumn I returned to see a dam at Trinafour, where I'd had a photo taken when I was quite young! I've also been inside the mountain at Cruachan to see that power station.

On a trip  to Switzerland  I walked round a huge underground complex of waterfalls from melt water from the Eiger that generated electricity, that was wondrous!

I'm always captivated by Victorian engineering and admire their audacity and ingenuity in their construction of reservoirs, railways, canals etc. Why some planned towns and stately homes  had their own source of electricity.

The picture below shows the wind farms in the U.K.

 

 

Today mankind is searching for ways to produce energy inthe form of electricity without causing ecological problems. Along the lower reaches of the River Lune there are fields of solar panels, that I find quite fascinating. As a hillwalker I am aware of wind farms and I don't mind them as such, in fact they provide good waymarking! As one drives across the border into Scotland , forests have been cleared and wind farms now cover the same acres. Many car parks are supplied with 'charging' points for electric vehicles too. Yes. I like renewable energy..or at least the wise use of this resource.

 

I had solar panels fitted to my home several years ago. I'd enquired about wind energy but the maintenance of a wind turbine was very expensive....so solar won. It's not much I know, but I've halved my monthly electricity bill by the wise use of what I'm producing. So when the sun shines I use electrical appliances...I vacuum clean, I sew, I bake and cook, I cut the grass...I fill flasks with boiling water to last into the evening. Unfortunately batteries to store the power are terribly expensive and very large. The excess goes to the power company and the National grid, for which I get paid.

 

I believe that all new houses ought to be built to be as energy saving as possible...so insulation should be top notch, solar panels should be fitted, rain harvesters provided...BUT house builders won't do this, NO they build quick, cheap and sell high. It's a win situation for the energy providers too!

 

But that's enough of my views and rants and a return to the theme for this week of  'Power and Energy' . My poem for this week was written some time ago when I walked on the North side of Clougha Pike looking for Andy Goldsworthy's constructions, that I knew to be somewhere on the site of an abandoned limestone quarry. Having found them I not only admired the corbelled structure and the grand views but also the wind turbines across into Littledale.

 

Andy Goldsworthy's Constructions

Three silent sentinels amid the moorland heather

Facing southwards, all three, facing wind and weather.

In line- not touching- brothers in stone together

Openings facing out towards the sunrise

As if in a silent scream of sudden surprise

At the view to Yorkshire and Ingleborough rise.

Three alone in a quarry of lime,

A boulder strewn landscape forgotten in time

Where men once grafted, faces drawn in grime.

Three silent sentinels that tell of the past

Of  a labour in quarrying - not to last -

Shortlived, essential once, but gone too fast.

Three brothers side by side never linking,

One eye each looking out, unblinking.

Where across the valley turbines turn unthinking.

Linked together across the ages forever.

Technology old and new bound together.

Many silent sentinels standing in the heather.

 

 

Thanks for reading, Kath.

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Colour...is it all the same ?

I've always been interested in colour from a young age. Colour as applied to dress and fashion.

For my last year's college specialisation I chose to do loom weaving. Part of the work entailed dyeing yarns and it was fascinating to collect dyestuffs and discover that their colours did not necessarily have anything in common with the resulting colour.  My topic title was "Inspiration for Weaving." So I photographed many sights of natural events, and places like snow covered peaks, moorland, streams, forests and the like. Then I chose colours from selected photos to incorporate in my weaving.

Being an outdoor person I am acutely aware of colours in the landscape and take endless photos.   But recently I've been perplexed in my idea as to what colours are, and do we all see them the same?
I know that animals and insects see colours in a different way to ourselves, and I know that some people are "colour blind" and that some people see no colours at all! However, what has entered my mind recently is 'do we all see colours the same?'

I'll try to explain.  Okay, from our baby days we are 'taught' colours...so mum might say "the balloon is red" etc. and we absorb that knowledge and associate a name to a colour, but what if we don't all see the actual same colour ? What if I look at grass and say "look how green that it is", but do I know that my colleague is seeing the same colour? What if his/ her 'green' isn't the same as mine?

Not that it really matters, but it just occurred to me, and it's rather a dark subject and a bit profound for late evening so I'll sign off on what has been a very busy, traumatic day and hopefully I'll have time tomorrow to write a bit more.

 

So here I am after a busy day, finally writing a quick piece...

 

Colour my life

Colour my childhood yellow-

When summer days were long and mellow.

Colour my teen years red-

When I danced long and late to bed.

Colour my college years gold-

When I matured and suddenly felt old.

Colour my twenties plum-

When I became a wife and a mum.

Colour my thirties midnight blue-

When I found my love wasn't true.

Colour my forties powder blue-

When with love true I started anew.

Colour my fifties fluorescent green-

When joy filled my days and tears unseen.

Colour my sixties dull grey-

As I lost my love one sad day.

Colour me now what you will,

As the years stretch before me still..

Thanks for reading my rather hurried piece, Kath.        

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Tit fr Tat

I like hats. I only wish I had a smaller head! You see they always seem too large for me, so I have to steam them or add a band inside so they fit. Why just on Wednesday I saw a remarkable hat in a vintage shop and was really tempted to buy it, but it came down round my ears plus I would have to have made an appropriate outfit to match it. This is Friday and I'm still craving the hat!

As  an older teenager I had two hats to match coats. One was a smart grey trilby to match a double breasted military style grey coat. The other was a cream felt fedora style creation to match a heavy wool coat in dark brown which was one of my final outfit tailor makes for college. How I wish I'd kept all those garments...but mind you they wouldn't have fitted any longer! Then in the late 60's I made caps... sort of jaunty and folkish to match trouser suits. Also winter snoods that covered the entire head and neck, very suitable for Aberdeen winters. I bought fur coats at jumble sales and trimmed garments, made muffs and always a stylish hat.

Now I satisfy my liking for hats by wearing a variety of styles taking me back to the 40's and 50's. So it is that I look in charity shops for likely contenders.

I have a couple of winter hats , furry, warm and over the ears, but they are difficult to keep on in high winds (as are the vintage hats). Speaking of the latter I try hat pins, inner hair bands and various other ploys to try and keep them on...usually it's my hand that does the best job!

Nowadays there are few occasions when hats seem acceptable to wear...just weddings, funerals and Royal garden parties! Anyway I now lead a less formal life and you're more likely to find me in a baseball cap or old straw hat walking in the mountains. Talking of which....I wanted a suitable
balaclava for winter treks and went into a shop in Cleveleys and I'm sure the shopkeeper thought I
was going to rob a bank, as I tried on all the styles. No it wasn't that ! I wanted to keep the hat on
whilst I drank and ate . I chose one with a zip down the front so that I didn't have to remove the hat and get cold!

It's rather sad the demise of hat wearing, but then our modern modes of dress and transport, and general casualness have seen to that.

My poem today was written on Wednesday evening when the hat I had seen was still on my mind.

TITFER

Don your titfer , missus

We're going for a walk.

Link you arm through mine

And together we shall talk

About the years that fled so fast,

The children grown and gone.

One daughter with her own young 

And our eldest and only son.

Toss your head and show the world

Your best hat bedecked in flowers,

The ribbons entwined around the brim

Took painstaking sewing hours.

When we wed you wore that hat.

(It's seen many others too).

You've changed its look many times,

But it's seen these many years through.

It's faded now, your best hat- 

Well past its best by now-

Still you wear it well-

(I'm not too sure just how).

It's survived the children's dressing up,

The weekly trek to town,

Sometimes a trip to Blackpool,

Matched nicely to a gown.

Don your titfer, missus

We're going for a walk,

Link your arm through mine

And together we shall talk

About the years we've spent together 

In sunshine and in strife,

Our troubles and our blessings-

Put your best hat on, dearest wife.

Thanks for reading, Kath

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What a night that was! 1968...

Now I have a poem that I wrote, possibly, in 1968,  after attending a competition to choose a top pop group. This event took place over 3 or 4 Saturday evenings at Aberdeen Beach Ballroom. I think I attended each one, and therefore required a new outfit for each event.

My choice at this period of time was an A-line mini  dress. I certainly remember two of those outfits.
One I made in a linen look cotton. It had bell sleeves. The fabric was psychedelic...huge flowers of various hues, in yellow, orange , pink and green. Under the lights of the ballroom some of the flowers completely changed colour and almost "glowed". Another dress I recall was made from a shiny bronze coloured fabric dotted with subtle flowers, but the reverse was brushed giving it a warm feel.

We danced from 8pm till gone 2 in the morning, then collecting our coats from the cloakroom, in a happy group we walked the six miles home to the suburbs.

Happy days...and still remembered...

The pattern above was found in a charity shop in 2014 and I've used it frequently.

THOUGHTS AT THE PALACE BALLROOM - 19/09/1968

Silhouetted figures on the background of blue moved 

to and fro with the rhythm from the group.

I felt myself slowly slipping 

into a trance and everything

moved with a frenzy of feelings 

and emotions.

Then I finally went under into

the swirl of rhythmic bodies.

Music pulsating to my brain.

Gardens where flowers bloomed

were all around me.

I plucked a rose from a tender bough,

And breathed in its sweet perfume.

Then I took a daisy from among

the deep, green grass.

And pulling out its petals, I cried..

" He loves me-- He loves me not,

  He loves me--He loves me not,

He loves me--He loves me !

HE LOVES ME !

Silhouetted figures on the background of blue wavered

to and fro with the rhythm 

of the group.

Hands reached out to help me to my feet ,

But I laughed and sang out above the music --

" He loves me !

                   He loves me !" 

Thanks for reading, Kath.

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Sugar....friend or foe ?

I apologise for the lateness of my contribution. You see a close friend of mine has suffered from toothache for a couple of days and last night was, for her, the last straw. So it was that she phoned me early this morning stating that she had managed to get an emergency appointment. Well , being me. I  offered to accompany her, just in case she required drastic treatment. As it was a filling was required..nothing too major.

By late afternoon I was beginning to despair of ever sitting down to compose what I had in mind. But her sudden dental work made me think of the implications of consuming too much sugar in its various forms.

Why, just this past week I've cut down on my own sugar consumption . Mainly reducing the amount of teaspoonfuls in my tea. Actually I've reached the stage that I don't miss the reduction...albeit only by about half a teaspoon!

The government have got involved in this 'fight' against sugar, suggesting "sugar taxes",  on soft drinks, sweets etc. Children's teeth are showing early signs of decay, causing concerns amongst dentists. Obesity is another real concern and sugar gets part of the blame.

I, myself eat 'free from' foods due to an intolerance but they seem to be loaded with sugar ...to somehow make up for the missing ingredients.

It seems that the addition of sugar has become acceptable. Taste buds expect this sweetness. Sugar is added to the most unexpected foodstuffs, so it is worthwhile looking at the labels.

But I digress really , as I intended to speak about sugar in a different way. So here goes, in brief...

In the 15th Century the Portuguese traded in gold and Ivory in West Africa. Columbus was particularly interested in the predominant wind that blew from east to west and was determined to show that he could sail to the Far East , by sailing westwards!. Hence he used those winds and landed in Barbados and the islands of what he termed The West Indies (he thought he would land in India?). Once there the Portuguese watched the natives harvesting sugar cane and brought some back to Europe where a sudden taste for sweetness developed.

Now, of course others wished to colonise these islands and cultivate sugar cane on plantations, but they lacked a work force . Thus slavery began , taking Africans to the islands on what became known as The Trade Winds. Ships then would drop off slaves, pick up sugar, molassses , rum, tobacco , exotic fruits , and used the Westerly Winds to take a route to Europe. So sweetmeat production began  in earnest.

Then when the US and Britain decided to abolish slavery , the sugar trade from abroad faced a slump. Now sugar beet had always been utilised by country folks as a sweetener, so production of this beet was upped. Further wars and dangerous seas really brought the production of British sugar beet onto a massive scale, devoting thousands of acres to its production. Look at your sugar bags and see which brands have a Union Jack on the wrapper!
 
Sugar is obviously essential for preservation, alcohol production, medicines etc ...so do we regard sugar as "friend or foe" ?

I haven't written a piece this week , but think about where the word " sugar" is used. I've lots of songs in mind...

Sugar...ah, honey, honey.

You are my candy girl and you got me wanting you....

Thanks for reading, Kath...

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Corpse Routes and Corpse Candles

This summer I plan to walk the Old Corpse Road from Mardale (Haweswater) to Swindale and onto Shap Abbey. With this in mind I was interested to read an article not only about corpse routes, but also in the superstition of   'corpse candles' . This is a widely believed phenomena in many parts of rural  UK.

Corpse routes always took many twists and turns ...even though a more direct route could have been taken to the burial ground. Often crossing running water too. This meandering pathway was designed to prevent the spirit from coming back from whence it came. For you see spirits always travel in a straight line and cannot cross running water.

Hamlets and villages without a church and therefore no consecrated burial ground, had to carry their departed to the nearest graveyard. Hence the Old Corpse Road at Mardale, where a church was not built till the 18th century. So the dead were carried overland to Shap Abbey.

So, you are asking where do  'corpse candles ' come into things? The apparition of floating lights was often noted drifting across the moors, and usually travelling in a straight line. Nowadays we might reason this being 'will o' the wisp', or gases emanating from the bogs, but folks, back then, thought it was a light 'calling' upon a village, or a dwelling , as a portent of an impending tragedy and a sign of imminent death.

After a tragedy witnesses often came forward to relate that they knew it was going to happen as they'd seen the 'corpse candles' a day or more before.



After reading that fascinating article I sat and wrote this piece.....

         Corpse Candle

          Oh, Maggie dost thou see that light across the moor ?

          I fear it comes for me. Oh, Maggie, bar the door.

          We'll kneel and pray and hope it passes our home

          And continues on its ghostly course to roam.

          Oh, Maggie dost thou see that light that floats near ?

          Stay close to me my love and hold me dear.

          Send for the priest and ask him what to do.

          Perhaps it will pass our cottage as it's not due ?

          Oh, Maggie dost thou fear the flame that comes close ?

          I fear for my life and dread the corpse candle most.

          The Lord will watch over us, of that I'm sure.

          Oh, Maggie I beg you again to bar the door !

          Oh, Maggie, di'st thou see the candle last night ?

          For it's taken you by dawn's first light.

          You've gone from me and I did not think

          To guard your life that's gone in a blink....

Thanks for reading, Kath

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Fatball shortage..

The piece for today was written in May 2014. I was having breakfast at a familiar B&B looking out onto the garden and the numerous feeding stations by the hedge. Panic! The feeders were empty! I rushed upstairs, got my notebook and wrote this....

 Now it comprises two parts. The first is the birds complaining , and the second is Kevin's reply.

  So without further ado ...

  The Birds
   Now look here , Kevin- the fatballs  are gone !
   Knock at the door boys and see if he's at home.
   Hurry up, Kevin- we're starving you see !
   Chirrup together lads - feed me, and me and me !

   I'll fly to the window, you go to the door,
   Carry a placard. We want more, more, more
   Is that him in the shed opening a bag ?
   Fly there, robin. Perch on the door and nag !

   Come on Kevin, give us some hope.
   Else we'll sit in the hedgerow and nope.
   All the day we'll be sad and down.
   Get the car out. Get some in town !

   Food, Kevin, food. That's all we ask.
   Surely that's not too great a task ?
   Here he comes now. Smart kind friend.
   Fatballs  in hand. A successful end....

 

   Kevin's Reply
   Here you are lads. Plenty you see.
   Hope you're appeased now ? You certainly told me !
   I was chatting this morning and rather slow,
   Got held up. It shouldn't happen I know.
   Please forgive me for this oversight.
   I now view you birds in a different light.
   I'll be ready tomorrow. You wait and see.
   Up with the larks. A new organised me.


   Thanks for reading. Feed the birds....Kath

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Clouds and silver linings

Cloud watching is a fascinating pastime especially at present when I'm laid up , yet again, with the return of a persistent cold. Due to painful eyes I find I'm not able to read, do any crafts or even watch TV. So it was that, yesterday, I sat in the warm, sunny conservatory, sunglasses on, and just looked out at the sky. Actually it was a fairly cloudless day, but a myriad of vapour trails zig zagged across the blue. Later, those clouds that resemble feathers lazily appeared in the sky. Now that's where it gets confusing because although I watch the sky , especially keeping a " weather eye open" , when hillwalking , I don't know the technical terms for various cloud formations, which is a shame.  I've learned over the years to predict cloud formations and on my videos that I always take it seems I'm always saying " It looks as if the weather is about to change " and nine times out of ten I'm accurate. It's become second nature to predict the weather.

   Now Don will gaze out of his window at his home in Kendal and see all sorts of shapes in the clouds. He envisages animals, birds and faces and spends many an hour watching them drift across his window. Noting their movement from side to side thus knowing the wind direction . From his top window and by pressing one's face to the glass the Lake District mountains come into view and one can see by the cloud formation what the weather is doing in the Lakes.

  There is something sublime about lying flat on the ground and just looking up...nothing else..just gazing up. I try and look up whilst walking as we tend to forget to turn our heads that way and often keep our gaze down or admire the surrounding views. That way I've captured some amazing cloud formations.


  I adore flying and always take a window seat. It's wonderful to break through the clouds and look down on cottonwool clouds and imagine that you could drop down on them ( not through them !) and lie comfortably in their soft embrace. Catching glimpses of the earth below in breaks in the clouds, I wonder where I am, who lives below, what river I'm crossing, who tends the fields, what towns lie beneath the aircraft ?

  Forgive my ramblings today, as my head feels somewhat fuzzy ...like a soft white cloud...and I'm sitting in semi darkness in order to type.
  I'll take a break now and go look and see if I have any poems that mention clouds. So hold tight and I'll be back.

A Winter Cold

My head feels like a cumulus cloud-

Don't shine a light, nor talk too loud.

Filled with downy cottonwool you see.

When will I feel better and more like me ?

I want to feel like a cirrus cloud,

Soft and downy with fronds abound.

Instead this cumulonimbus one stays

Heavy in my head for many days.

Let me float like cirrocumulus, dappled and light, 

For I see nimbostratus on the horizon and I feel fright !

It looks so gloomy, the way ahead-

Think I'll just go back to bed .....

I didn't have any cloud poems in my collection so I quickly made this one up , also I looked at different types of cloud formations so I learned something new today.

Thanks for reading , Kath

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For Answers We Need Questions....

As mankind we are forever asking questions. That's how we've evolved, learned and experienced. Our minds are questioning as the norm. Answers are not always forthcoming...in fact answers are not always necessary.

When I find myself in a remote area I'm always "asking" in my head. I question the meaning of life (very profound). I often wonder who has been in that spot before me...has anyone actually stood on that exact sa
me spot in the heather? How come there are oak trees left here? Who lived in that remote croft? How many deer are on that fellside? Where does the cuckoo go when he leaves? The list goes on and on...my questioning goes on and on. I don't require a definitive answer. Often I muse over possible answers, possible outcomes. I imagine scenarios. I speculate. That's fine. I've  satisfactorily answered myself .

Silence isn't empty. It's full of answers....I read that somewhere.  For me - silence isn't empty. It's full of questions .

Many questions are purely rhetorical. We neither expect nor wish an answer. It's not necessary, serves no purpose anyway or there is no answer.

I've found two poems this week. The first was written  in March 1968.   The second in May 2015. They ask questions. I never got any answers as such. They are uncannily similar, given the years between.

To You

Shall I give my hand to you ?

Perhaps you will take offence and shun me ?

I don't know.

I wish I could make you understand -

My intentions are good. I am sure of that.

If you were to give your hand to me

I would accept it without a second thought.

I cannot change. Accept me for what I am

And I shall give you my hand.

Shall I?

Shall I open my heart to you, or will you reject me and turn away ?

Shall I open my arms to you, or will you shun me and go on your way ?

Shall I open my eyes and see you, or will you be gone for ever and a day ?

Shall I open my door to see you standing there, or will you not be there and I am fay ?

Shall I open my mind to your love, or will you desert me and go astray ?

I'll keep a tight closed heart.

My arms crossed over my chest.

My eyes focused on the future.

My door firmly shut,

And my mind set !

I shall not open up for you,

You must earn your way to my love !

     

Thanks for reading today,  Kath.

     

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Park

So just to confuse everyone: when I moved back to Scotland after a 20 year absence, I gradually got used to rehearing phrases long forgotten and when I lived in Buckie I learned that a "park" was not how you might know it, but it was in fact a FIELD! So people would say things like "See the coos in the park ".  Now we'd be appalled to see any cows in our local parks! But there you are. Such terms completely threw my husband, who was born and bred in Oxford, and it's a good job he had me to interpret things for him.

However, to return to parks as we know them. Places of leisure, nostalgia, fun, enjoyment, swings, slides, flowers, birds, Lakes etc. Oases of calm and peace in busy towns and cities. What a grand idea they are too, and very thoughtful of planners of the past to include them. Sometimes they are just a small area of grass and flowers in a square surrounded by houses. More than often though they are many acres of land set aside for a multitude of interests. Often including greenhouses, such as the large one I recall in Duthie Park, Aberdeen, where we could view exotic plants (and butterflies) from far off countries. Fountains played a part too , a place to paddle perhaps? Lakes of various depths and sizes giving a home to mallard ducks and other species...just like the one in Grange over Sands. Parks provide entertainment, a place to ride a scooter, push a pram, kick a ball or get on a miniature railway and experience the thrill of going round and round a track waving to all as you pass... you know, we've all done it !

Often it's a child's first introduction to a green open space where they can play freely and safely. So we need to preserve our parks. I've noticed that many parks are updating themselves and providing facilities in keeping with our modern lifestyles, as well as refurbishing firm favourites from the past. In the summer I visited "Happy Mount Park" in Morecambe and they have successfully integrated the older style amusements with more modern ones. The park successfully caters for many tastes allowing grandparents, parents and children to enjoy a day out together.

Locally, a nearby park has been 'adopted' by 'friends' and has proven to be a successful venture for the community. This seems to be a way forward as many authorities are cash-strapped and find the
upkeep of these green spaces prohibitive. Volunteers have stepped in giving of their time and expertise with good results in winning accolade in the "Britain in Bloom" competition.

I am lucky as I have access to travel and find my "green spaces" out in the countryside, but not all
are so fortunate , therefore parks and open green areas within our urban communities are important to provide a place of exercise, relaxation and enjoyment...and not forgetting the benefit of providing havens for wildlife, flowers and improving our "carbon footprint".

photo taken in the Japanese Garden in Happy Mount Park, Morecambe

 

Parks I've Known

I skated in Duthie Park, on the frozen boating pond.

So very long ago.

I had my first date in Seaton Park.

So very long ago.

Did cross country running in Hazelhead park.

So very long ago.

I scooted in Happy Mount Park, by Morecambe Bay.

This July past.

 

Thanks for reading my few lines and enjoy your local park! Kath.

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