Arboreal - A Wild Night

 

The Friendly Tree

I’ve found a place beside a friendly tree,
Where I’ll hide my face when the world hurts me,
For the tree will never hurt; I shall love it to the end;
It shall have a dear, dear name:
“My true and silent friend.”
                                                                    Annette Wynne

The weather had been pleasant for a few days. There was a hint of warmth in the weak sun when it crept between the clouds and the temperature was a constant 17 degrees centigrade. We set off for a short break in our caravan, to an unfamiliar site just north of Garstang. Rural and surrounded by trees was the main appeal, besides the practical requirement for us, fully serviced pitches. A pub with restaurant was only a five minute drive away. Handy for dinner. Luckily, we’d finished setting everything up before the rain came, the weather breaking as we expected. By nightfall the wind had increased. The trees took on a loud wildness, branches swaying, leaves rustling. Psithurism. Almost stormy, certainly scary. Tucked up in my sleeping bag, worrying about the possibility of being crushed by a falling tree, something brought to mind stories from my childhood, in my Enid Blyton era. The Enchanted Wood, The Magic Faraway Tree and all of those books which captured my imagination. I wanted to live in one of those tiny houses at the top of the tree. I think I still do. By morning, the wind had lessened to a breeze and the rain continued. We didn’t get to sit outside, but it was a nice break.

Galloway Forest Park is perfect for a stroll or a drive, with lots of woodland wildlife, hidden from view. Some areas are dense with pine trees. It is interesting to go off track and just listen to nature. It’s somewhere we like to visit on our regular trips, though we need to stay on the road and in the car these days. I’ve never seen a red squirrel, but live in hope.

Lots of grey squirrels live in my neighbourhood. There’s a regular, well-fed visitor to my garden and I’ll often find buried monkey nuts, which I try not to disturb too much. I think they come from tree-lined East Park Drive, or the trees on the local field.

I love this poem,

Poplar Trees are Happiest

Poplar trees are laughing trees,
With lilting silver call.
Willow trees droop weepingly
And never laugh at all.
Maple trees are gorgeous trees
In crimson silks and gold;
Pine trees are but sober trees,
Aloof and very old.
Black-oak trees walk sturdily,
And live oaks eager run;
The sycamores stand lazily
Beneath the summer sun.
But poplar trees are laughing trees
Wherever they may grow –
The poplar trees are happiest
Of all the trees I know.

                                  John Russell McCarthy.


Thanks for reading, Pam x

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Family - Ties That Bind Us

I am fortunate to have been born into a medium-sized, close-knit family. My early childhood was filled with love and joy. For seven years I was the only grandchild to two sets of doting grandparents and my great-grandmother. I wasn’t spoilt in a materialistic way but I knew I was wanted, always welcome everywhere and people had time for me. By seven or eight, I had been taught how to knit, how to sew on buttons and sew a line of neat, tiny stitches. I wasn’t allowed near the dangers of a hot, steamy kitchen but I could prick my fingers to death with a sharp needle – not too many times before I got the hang of it. I gave everyone’s coal fire a wide berth, too. It is basic, the security of a loving family. I hope I’ve provided the same for my children and grandchildren.

I would like to nurture the same close relationship with my grandchildren as I had with my grandparents and I hope I’m doing it right. I have been home-schooling my eldest grandson a couple of afternoons a week since lockdown rules eased enough for me to see him. Home-schooling sounds very grand, but he only started school last September, just getting into the swing of it, which he loves, then along came ‘the germs’ and shut down. We play games, do lots of painting, drawing, colouring – this includes chalk, wax crayon, pencils, felt tips and anything else I can lay my hands on. I’ve recently introduced him to ‘The Cat in the Hat’ and ‘Green Eggs and Ham’, excellent for practising phonics. He’s quite happy doing number work, he doesn’t like writing much but we do a little bit. He enjoys being here, having me and Grandad all to himself with no distractions from his siblings. It helps my daughter out, as well. Families help each other, as it always was with our lot.

Now and again I dip into my family history. I’ve been doing my ‘tree’ for years. It can be hard work sometimes, going round in circles or literally barking up the wrong tree. So many generations with the same first name passed down. Children named after a dead older sibling. I’d never do that, but it was quite common in the mid-eighteen hundreds. People had lots of children, but so many of them died in infancy. Such losses in my ancestry have saddened me. My grandparents were made of strong stuff. They lost a child at three years old, before my mother was born. I was full of my own heartache when they lost another daughter, my mother. Our family clung to each other and tried to weather the storm.

It was hard when my mother died so young. It got harder still when my father remarried to the point of being impossible, but I had a close relationship with my maternal grandmother until she passed away, and my god-mother, who is my rock to this day.

I lost a lot of people over a period of about ten years. It is said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’ve made it, so far. I suppose I'm the matriarch of my family now, with hidden strength and non-judgemental advice when required.

                                                                           My babes

My poem,  Family

There's cooking and cleaning and

The sound of children at play.

Infants having a squabble,

It's an ordinary day.

The strength of our family

Continues here, in our home,

A warm hub of love and care

Where everyone is welcome.

Everyone is important,

All are equal in our throng.

We look after each other,

Fam'ly is where we belong.

Somewhere to share a problem,

Always a listening ear

And a few words of wisdom

Help the worries disappear.

Family ties that bind us

Are stronger than any twine.

United in trust we stand,

I'm proud this fam'ly is mine.

PMW 2020

Thanks for reading, stay safe, Pam x

                                              

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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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From Russia - With Love

The ‘Beast from the East’ sent us a hint of snow to wake up to, here on the Fylde Coast.  A more substantial ‘white out’ further inland caused the closure of schools and brought transport to a full stop. Such extremes rarely reach us, but even so, I keep a well-stocked larder of tinned and packet food in case we can’t get out. I am the first to agree that this is hilarious, considering that there are two shops a very short walk away and we usually have our weekly groceries delivered. In my defence, I have explained to the mirthful ones that it isn’t only the weather I’m prepared for, but illness and disability as well, even though we live in a neighbourhood and not miles from anywhere in the far reaches of East Siberia.

I think I’d like to visit Siberia. I don’t know where it figures on the tourism market but it looks interesting.  First we’ll tackle Scotland next week. Hopefully it will be warmer than the -50 Celsius that Siberia has been experiencing.

When I was a child I picked up on things called ‘The Cold War’, ‘The Iron Curtain’ and ‘Eastern Bloc’. It was nothing to concern me, I was far too young to understand, but I was old enough to sense solemnity and worry myself about it to the point of nightmares which baffled my mother. It came from news bulletins, rather than adult conversations and affected me so much that I avoided having the news on as much as possible when my children were young.

Years ago, a work colleague was going on holiday to Moscow. She liked unusual places and always went on her own. It is fair comment that she wasn’t popular at work and those of us that had to put up with her hoped she might not be allowed back into the UK, the naivety of our youth. We didn’t get our wish, of course. She sent a postcard saying simply, ‘From Russia, with love’.

As a football fan, I hope that this summer brings something else home from Russia, the World Cup.

One of my favourite poems:

I Loved You (Ya Vas Lyubil)
I loved you; even now I may confess,
Some embers of my love their fire retain;
But do not let it cause you more distress,
I do not want to sadden you again.
Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly
With pangs the jealous and the timid know,
So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,
I pray God grant another love you so.

 

Alexander Pushkin, 1799-1837

 

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x 

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Come Rain or Shine

Choose one of the options below:

a) If you are reading this post at 7am - Shaun and I are probably three hours into a six hour drive to Latitude Festival.

b) If you are reading this post at 11am - Shaun and I are probably queuing excitedly on a Southwold country road waiting to park our car in a field.

c) If you are reading this post at 2pm - Shaun  and I are probably getting bands of fabric clamped to our wrists (which will come to signify such a happy time that we'll refuse to cut them off).

d) If you are reading this post at 3pm - Shaun and I have probably put up the tent (hopefully without incident or argument)and are now milling around the campsite village and buying ridiculous hats from the Oxfam Tent.

e) If you are reading this after 5pm - Shaun and I will probably be exploring the arena, scouting out vegan food and filling our evening with inspiring, random and wonderful acts.

Hopefully the weather will be nice, but regardless of whether we are met by rain or shine, I'll be wearing my wellies (any excuse will suffice).

At Latitude 2012, our arrival coincided with a day of torrential rain, and by the time we awoke on Friday morning - our feet sitting in a puddle of rainwater - the decision to bring a smaller tent seemed less ingenious and more stupid. There was another 'wet foot' crisis in 2011, when I stepped into a puddle only to discover my wellies had a hole. With cold and wet feet, and Jo Shapcott due to start in under thirty minutes, Shaun left me in the Poetry Tent and went off in search of new socks. He returned twenty minutes later - finding non-wool socks had been more difficult than he had anticipated - and presented me with a pair of £7 yellow and black striped socks. We look back on these moments now, where things didn't go quite as planned, and we laugh...

There is always the hope that things will go perfectly - but when they don't, and you look back, it is usually the less than perfect memories that you remember and which make you smile. So, here is to a Latitude that doesn't go quite as perfectly as my mind has imagined.

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Tanned Bodies

Sorry about this, I'm on a bit of a Tom Waits trip at the moment.

Song (Music to be a piano, bass, swamp blues played to sound slightly out of tune)

Tanned Bodies

I spent all my money man,

Finding a place to stay.

Just so I could say that,

I’ve been here anyway.

Now I’ve got my hands,

And bottle full of booze.

Palm trees dancing in night,

nothing left to lose.

(chorus)

And there are, tanned bodies,

Sea still looks blue.

Tanned bodies,

Nothing new.

They say God gets pissed,

on the essence of the young,

Backed out drying,

on the sand in the sun.

But nothing in my eyes,

Can take the place of you.

Missing is my reasons,

To try to make it through.

(chorus)

Everywhere are, tanned bodies,

Sea still looks blue.

Tanned bodies,

Nothing new.

For all this beauty,

Surrounding my mind,

Will mean nothing to me,

In about an hours time.

Coz vodka makes it easy,

and the warmth makes it nice,

and the cold doesn’t bite me,

in the dark of the night.

(chorus)

I see, Tanned bodies,

Sea still looks blue.

Tanned bodies,

Nothing new.

So excuse me while find myself,

in the bottom of a glass,

Sitting on a Miami beach,

With sand in my ass.

Why’d you have to leave me?

Why did God let you go?

Why I’m still breathing?

Why I just don’t know?

(chorus)

About these, tanned bodies,

Sea still looks blue.

Tanned bodies,

Nothing new.

So I’ll just keep on drinking,

Until I die.

Leaving just this lonely man,

No one asking why.

So this is the last place,

I will go on vacation.

Missing you my love,

In this exotic location.

(chorus)

With it’s, tanned bodies,

Sea still looks blue.

Tanned bodies,

Nothing new.

(Repeat to fade)

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