Category Archives: battle

shenanigans

There are moments when we just need to step back and dream…

Step back and sleep, dream in the arms of the dragon. April the joker, the trickster, that turned the island back to ice.

Our spring buds deprived of sap, light and that warmth, had to yield to the wrath, shenanigans from a planet déboussolée…

Even Saoirse the Cat had to give in to da bliind moorie -a violent snow storm – that engulfed us in its millions of horizontal icicles.

I’m pretty sure she dreamt of bees and bugs she loves so much to play with… She looks a meerkat on her back limbs. So comical at times.

I was dreaming of summer.

Voar – our springtime – is a season to respect. As Mother Earth turns generous once more, life in all its forms begins again. The island back in a sky filled with birdsong – oystercatchers, curlews, skylarks and snipes to name but a few… We seed to harvest and yet we are aware of its harshness.

In their life-driven waves, our seabirds feel magnetised to our cliffs. Guillemots, razorbills and puffins had to battle a polar flying gale to reconvene in our boreal world.

April still clawed by cold air.

And yet nature is resilient. From daffodils to primroses, from Skylarks to Meadow Pipits or Northern Wheatears, wir voar means life.

On and around the island, magic occurs. Last weekend alone was graced by a pod of orcas on Saturday followed by a showcase of wir tammie nories (that delightful local name for our Atlantic Puffins) at sundown.

Magical.

It does not take much to tear down preconceived ideas and marvel at the diversity of life. The trick being to open our eyes and heart, and feel part of it.

Life is everywhere: in the wild, in cities – Mother Nature finds her ways in the most incredible places, from a stone wall to the great depths of our oceans…

We are all guests on our planet, that has a twin, so different.

Now, the following piece of verse is all about our Earth’s sister.

Planet Walk (Venus) 


YOU ARE HERE,

between
Mercury and my world,
one grain of
sand on a lone beach,
in easy reach to
solar winds, rotating eye around
stardust;
you, Earth’s
sister,
encased in hell and
toxic clouds,
sun, volcanoes and hurricanes –
you too look blue from the distance through
a filter.
So far away from
Tahiti, you caught the eye of
a captain when
you appeared as a black disc,
so elusive before
the sun.
Amazing grace,
your rotation in slow motion –
each sunrise lasts,
days outclass years on
your surface –
the odd one out waltzing clockwise in
our West sky.
You are beauty without seasons,
hottest of all, void of
water, rocky-basalt in a cocktail so
Molotov…
Satellite irresistible,
you are goddess among the stars,
no one will dare to plant
a flag;
but
still wonder if
there is life,
love in
your
clouds.✨

© Nat Hall 2021.
I love my homeworld.

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wind of change

We are never fully aware of things until they skelp (slap) you in the face.

My first drive back north to catch the sunset at Mavis Grind – the gateway to Northmavine, the north end of the main island – turned far darker as I caught windfarm ground work in progress with trucks at rest at the foot of hills along the A970 off Sandwater Loch. My heart sank. So far, I had only gazed at stills and drone footage in social media… All of the sudden, it became real.

For years, I have marvelled at Central Mainland – Sandwater, Kergord, da Lang Kames… Nesting, Voe – legendary places of wilderness teeming with rich and varied life. For years, we have been wrestling with a nightmare that will change life and lives – wild as well as human – forever.

For years, I have walked the shore and shared it openly: take a picture of it all before it is changed for ever.

We have lost a battle.

Yet instead of the expected pictures taken from the roadside, I thought of friend & artist Paul Bloomer’s current project entitled Shadowed Valley.

Whilst Paul has been developing his response on canvas through the main medium of charcoal, selected recent pieces of his work struck me over recent time.

Shadowed Valley by Paul Bloomer
Shadowed Valley by Paul Bloomer

In turn, I am expressing in words as my response to his work. With gracious thanks, Paul, for your kindness & powerful work.

Da Death Valley

Winds of change,

listen to the silent valley.

Through the darklands we now wander –

round da paets’ broos, where

whimbrels nest,

gigantic claws obey men’s will;

among heather & crowberries where

merlins hide their love and genes,

metallic claws slash & plunder deep through

this land where

redshanks call, protect their youngs between a loch and

Peta’s print,

way past the ridges of wir Kames,

Lottie’s Half-Way Hoose and

Nesting.

Shackled men to demon-money only

see gold, far away vaults,

far too oblivious to

ravens,

whimbrels, merlins or

mystic mountain hares, Heather Ling or rich purple bells,

the divine sanctuary of life.

Men dunna ken,

they come with trucks as giant claws rage through wir laand,

rape in peace to satisfy needs

whilst

nearby folk dread the shadows of longer blades,

Don Quixote’s nightmare

far north.

© Nat Hall 2020

Poet’s Notes

da paets’ broos: (Shetland dialect) the edge of eroded peat (turf); da Laang Kames (place-name): the long valley shaped from Sandwater Loch to the Village of Voe and Nesting area; Peta: (from O.N. & Shetland folklore) name given to a giant that fell asleep in the valley of da Laang Kames; “Men dunna ken”: (from Shetland dialect) expression meaning “people don’t know”; wir laand: our homeland.

Shadowed Valley by Paul Bloomer

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