30 June: Solitude by the sea.

On this day in 1826 Charles Lamb replies to John Dibdin who has written from Hastings, Sussex, where Charles and Mary Lamb had enjoyed many walks on their own holidays.

Let me hear that you have clamber’d up to Lover’s Seat; it is as fine in that neighbourhood as Juan Fernandez, as lonely too, when the Fishing boats are not out; I have sat for hours, staring upon a shipless sea. The salt sea is never so grand as when it is left to itself. One cock-boat spoils it. A sea-mew or two improves it.

By the way, there’s a capital farm house two thirds of the way to the Lover’s Seat, with incomparable plum cake, ginger beer, etc.

from “The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 6 Letters 1821-1842

Four miles from Hastings, the Lovers’ Seat is on the Fairlight cliff, seen here from Pett Level on a day when clouds were forming at the cliff top. Although the beach often has families enjoying the sand that lies below the shingle seen here, a little way off are quiet spots where one can stop and stare. A rare solitude for Lamb, the convinced Londoner.

Where and when today can I find a few minutes of solitude with God and creation?

Juan Fernandez is a group of Islands in the Pacific Ocean belonging to Chile; it includes Robinson Crusoe Island, though that name was not in use in 1826.

Sea-mew: sea gull, especially the common gull.

2 October: A mythical creature

I think it’s a centaur, stepping out from the trees beside Morcambe Bay. Thank goodness no-one has seen fit to remove it as a public safety measure.

28 August: Beach Nuts?

There they were, not beech nuts but nuts on the beach. The beach is on Morecambe Bay, at the foot of a low limestone cliff; the nuts were hazels. We had seen the grey squirrels picking clusters of two or three nuts, taking one to eat on the spot while letting the rest fall to the ground, where the fearless forager could harvest them. I never expected to harvest nuts on the beach!

But what are you going to do with them? asks Mrs Turnstone. Christmas is coming …

smart

Turnstones turning stones

We met this troop of turnstones on the beach recently. It was a grey and sepia day, no need to adjust the colour palette at all!

The story changed.

This was going to be about how we managed some relatively novel (for us) foraging on holiday in Wales, including wild spinach, sorrel and samphire. NAIB made a tasty risotto with the spinach.

But days after arriving home, expecting to find a few windfall apples, we were walking along a road we’ve travelled hundreds of times, when NAIB and I stood and stared, and said, ‘Wow!’ A giant puffball where we’d never seen one before.

It came home with us and she is busy preparing it right now. Here below is the samphire, growing in the crevices of the rock. You’ll appreciate that we only took enough for a garnish.

Going viral II: the Estonian way.

An Estonian friend’s news from home: Tallinn is unnaturally quiet, few people on the streets, but the forests and beaches are full of people enjoying unexpectedly not being in town. Let’s hope and pray they stay safe.

No sooner had I written that paragraph than I read that in France, the Prefects of Departements around the coast are closing all the beaches to the public.

Storm? What storm?

No matter how grey the sky, as soon as it’s safe to take off the gulls will be aloft, quartering the estuary, the fields or the rubbish dump. And first thing tomorrow morning, before the Labradors and spaniels take their walks, they will be checking the park for worms, crane fly larvae and other invertebrates drawn to the surface by the rain. Oh, and shouting from the chimney stacks and the skies, shaming stayabed humans on half-term timetables!

A winter’s sky.

One morning a couple of years ago a group of people awaited the arrival of the substitute librarian at Wood Avenue branch library in Folkestone.

I looked up and saw this skyscape. The black line at the top is the top of the library wall. Standing in the shadow allowed me to capture the two faint spectra in the grey sky created by the cold and the neighbouring English Channel. Re-organising files allowed me to share the picture!

The Folkestone libraries were very welcoming to my students and me; lets hope that can continue for my colleagues despite the financial constraints.

Along Oare Creek.

An after-Christmas walk along Oare Creek, near Faversham in Kent. It was a windless afternoon and still, so the reflection of these cottages stood out.

We were glad to be wearing wellington boots.

Kent is criss-crossed by power lines, with current from Belgium, France and off-shore wind farms.

Wrecked barges beside the creek.

Looking out to sea.

The sun came out as we left the path to walk back along the road.

Kent’s Big Sky Country! There were lots of water birds but no telephoto lens to capture them.

After a visit to the dentist.

I came out of the dentist to a beautiful sky, so I walked round to Whitstable beach. We are looking NW here, London is to our left, Margate and Belgium to the right. The shadow is one of many breakwaters that form part of the defences of the town which was badly flooded in the 1950s.

But there’s no defence from the sky unless you ignore it! It can only bring blessings to the town, and to those who stop and stare.