Monsieur Proust had his madeleine, I have my summer berries…
Loved my Sunday yesterday. Ingirid invited a small paty of us to play with her in her garden. She is at the helm of a magical eden where everything seems to grow in both open air and in polytunnels… Just magic. A list of tasks were clearly scribbled on postcards. Ingirid pointed out two areas: peaches to be harvested from well established trees in one polycrub, and, that secluded corner where gooseberries, black and redcurrants ripen in the sun. So much flew back inside my poet’s mind. Whilst the first task was achieved at lightning speed, that latter harvest heaved a bowlful of those tiny summer gems, as well as poetics.
As in micropoetry form at first…
petits fruits rouges, en grapes, en vrac,
entre martinets et sourires,
là où le temps
Peerie red fruits clinging like grapes
in between swifts & smiles,
there, when time
locked in a
and then, as a poem,
You, scarlet gems so well hidden.
So delicate, in
one corner of a garden, where my hands search in between
leaves, guardians of time – where
time writes fate in
I first found you as a child,
crouched against earth and loneliness,
that thin mesh, invisible cage to let the sun work
miracles after each battering of rain.
You, tiny gems so well
precious stones of summer.
Later, a feast awaited us as we gathered in the garden to share a marvellous Sunday afternoon. I love gardening parties. So much to enjoy from such capsules of time.
Thank you, Ingirid 🙂
Filed under 2017, 60N, Arcania, blogging, celebration, earth, geopoetics, hairst, humanity, life, light, literature, north, poet, poetry, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit, summer, world, writing
Histoire d’amour, love story. Last June I flew to Hordaland to be by their side. In nine days’ time I shall return and reconvene with this other side of the sea. I remember François speaking of belonging to the clan. I know I do, and cannot wait to step out of the plane in Bergen. Somehow it begins to feel like a Viking’s homecoming, hamefarin.
Dear Anita and François, it is on its way to you, and should arrive a day before me. :=)
Access to the wedding photobook HERE
Filed under 2016, 60N, autumn, blogging, book, celebration, education, geopoetics, hairst, Hordaland, humanity, images, life, migration, norman, north, norway, shetland, vikings
September, month of smiles and tears.
Yesterday, I congragated with friends and fellow writers from the Westside as well as the Waas community to say agoodbye to one of us. I loved the way his son spoke of my friend, and the way Janet somewhat managed to conceal some of her grief. The service was very poignant. I, among so many of us, will miss the good doctor who animated our monthly friday nights in Weisdale, as well as the many facets of everyone who was connected to his life. But he lives in our hearts, and his writings testify the life journey of a very brave, adventurous, life and children loving man. Rest in peace, Robin.
September, change of light.
Weeks fly like lit gun powder; fridays tear down the pages of our almanacs like a develish, untamed child too eager to rid of school days. And the sky follows suite. Little have I noticed sunsets and sunrises shifted on the the great cosmic clock… That daylight had begun to shrink. The island now unveils those autumnal hues. A more difuse light now clads everything on the island. The sky awaken and talks again. Whereas swans are starting to flock at Spiggie, others are thinking to go… Northern wheatears, pied wagetails and meadow pipits, together with a few swallows still grace our fence posts, road verges and fields… Though they too will depart from our shores and let others replace them for the darker months ahead.
September, trade of wings.
That juvenile northern wheatear will home itself south of my eyes for a few months, should it survive that great epic maiden flight south. I feel somewhat eager to reconvene with our winter visitors, whilst already marvelling at eclipse or winter plumage from some of our local avian friends. Guillemots certainly are noticeable from Gutters’ Gaet or Bressay Sound. And if observation feels rather limited during weekdays, the odd visit to harbours, lochs, fields, voes and wicks (bays) rekindles that pleasure.
And as nothing remains the same, September will vanish in flames, and let October take over. With the tenth month, I too will trade land and migrate for precious time to the other side side of he North Sea, as I will reconvene with friends and fjords. That second collection of verse demands so, as my heart does.
With October, the more prominent return of darkness… And the almanac will obey the laws of the universe.
Filed under 2016, 60N, Arcania, autumn, birds, blogging, colours, earth, geopoetics, hairst, home, humanity, images, island, life, light, migration, north, scotland, seabird, shetland, spirit, wildlife, winter, world, writing
WRITER’S CORNER page updated in time for the season 🙂
Filed under 2016, 60N, autumn, blogging, geopoetics, hairst, home, literature, north, offcourse, project, scotland, shetland, spirit, update, verse, verse poetry, winter
They flock, they feed, they fare, they fly…
SO is the tale of Earth’s winged creatures that dare to tame our meridians, gales, tides and cycles of the moon… This urge to breed make them undertake an extraordinary journey, from the estuaries in Eastern and Southern England to the more sub-Arctic region where I find them on my local mudflats. I, as many, am in awe to their ability to find their way, memorise routes, resilience in the face of danger(s), as well as their physical stamina for their size in this everlasting race for life and endurance.
How do they do it? So extraordinary, for us, humans from the 21st Century, parked inside patches guarded by politics & passports…
Some even go further than that.
Take the Arctc Tern (Sterna paradisea) – a species that holds a formidable record in terms of annual migration. Its story reads incredible. And yet terns remain one of many avian species that takes this immense risk to defy the rules of nature and undertake such vital marathon.
At this moment in time, autumnal migration has begun. Many waders – knots, sanderlings, ringed plovers, redshanks, godwits, to name a few – grace the edge of each tide, beach or pool, around the island. Some, still in full regalia, others, moulting. They come to feed and prepare for the long journey. And then, they will take to the air and disappear…
We really live on an extraordinary planet.
Filed under 2015, 60N, Arcania, autumn, birds, celebration, earth, hairst, island, migration, scotland, shetland