December, 2021
Friday 17th
Ivy berries form purple areolae atop round husks of streaky green. Catkins hang from sprigs of hazel. Oak leaves are copper pendants, dangling over mossy walls, mottled white with chalky lichen. The hedgerow sports the colours of the Yuletide solstice: ginger and burgundy, and the deepest shades of evergreen.
The horizon is a warm band of sunset orange, floating above low white wisps of ethereal mist, silhouetting the naked forms of winter trees; their coal black trunks twist skyward, unfurling into intricate fans of garnet twig. The dark lattice of a hawthorn bows east in wind-blown reverence, and the spire of the parish church is a Spartan pyramid of charcoal, warmed in the embers of celestial afterglow.
The imposing profiles of the Furness fells dominate the western skyline like a congress of pencil-grey titans, and the habitats and habitations of the valley slumber in their shadow.
Tuesday 28th
Dead leaves of bracken—bay, tan, and burgundy—blend into broad swathes of ginger. Stark hawthorns are wiry black frames, wild, wind-blown, and unkempt, forbidding tangles of sparse berries and exposed thorns.
While the landscape hibernates, bushes of bell heather and spiky gorse defy their dead flowers with leafy evergreen vitality; and moss and lichen hold court. Branches are frosted with monk’s hood and hammered shield lichen, and primrosed with yellow scale. Witches butter adorns a stalk of dead gorse like candied apricots. Weathered boulders of Silurian mudstone are spun with reindeer lichen and carpeted with juniper haircap.
Tom Tarn is a deep green well of reflection, pencil-hatched with the mirror images of trees.
As shadows lengthen, the embers of the afternoon conjure big skies, brooding over old stone towers—the ruined Colour Pole and Hampsfell Hospice. Low sun gilds the horizon below ridged pillows of cloud, lined blue and mauve, creating rippling rivers of gold over the dark silver sands of the bay.
Thanks, George . . . Fortunate aren’t we, having stuff like that on our doorsteps. A lovely read.
Thank you, David. Yes we are very fortunate indeed.
A change of style, George, which is always worth doing to refresh yourself. At times, the intensity of the focus upon the leaves and flowers of the hedgerows was reminiscent of ‘The Wind in the Willows’.
That’s a mighty compliment, Martin. Thank you.
Well that was a treat. So many familiar faces from the New Forest when I was growing up. I’ve not heard that called witches butter, excellent name.
Thank you, Geoff. Delighted you enjoyed it. Witches’ butter is indeed an excellent name.
Brilliant – you are like a Lakeland Richard Jefferies.
Thank you so much, John.
Very nicely done, and informative as always.
Thank you, that’s very kind.
Really good article(s) ! Don’t think I ever heard of Lesser Celandine before. They are among my favorites of your photos. The forget-me-nots too. And the kid.
Thank you, Neil. The kid was adorable. Lesser celandine flower early which makes them a welcome sight. They are supposed to be natural barometers, unfurling their petals in good weather and closing up against the wind and rain. They’re all gone now. Replaced by buttercups or crowfoot, which they superficially resemble l.
I was looking for inspirational poetry in my books yesterday, but found it here in words and wonderful pictures.
Hanna
That’s a lovely thing to say. Thank you do much.
George, thank you for sharing such an enjoyable diary and processional, elegant writing and wonderful photos. The obvious sincerity of this paean to your corner of the earth is heartwarming, and even the intrusion of news from the Ukraine fits in, honest reporting, like becoming aware of ominous buzzing from a disturbed hornet nest. The colors may change and fade, but I will remain green with envy that this wealth of nature is available for your lunchtime strolls.
Thank you, Robert. That’s a wonderful compliment. I love the hornet nest image.
P.S. I’d wanted to comment on your Loweswater article, that the tale of supernatural death has prompted me to add to my List of Dangerous Things to Avoid, Even if Properly Sanitized After Usage Near Wrong End of Horse: “Crupper/Horsey Bits of Demonic Leathergoods Leaping Out At You in Stairwells/Entanglements & Possible Stranglings,” actually a brand-new category.
Yes, very wise. Perhaps they should come with a government health warning.
—and someone asked me the other day: ‘have you any holiday plans this year’?
Christina (Cockermouth)
Yes, indeed! We are very lucky living where we do. Cockermouth is beautiful.