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.

25 January: Winter’s charms.

Willow wands growing through the snow. Calm after the storm.

Epistle to William Simpson Of Ochiltree

Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me, 
When winds rave thro' the naked tree; 
Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree 
Are hoary gray; 
Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, 
Dark'ning the day! 

O Nature! a' thy shews an' forms 
To feeling, pensive hearts hae charms! 
Whether the summer kindly warms, 
Wi' life an' light; 
Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 
The lang, dark night! 
The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, 
Till by himsel he learn'd to wander, 
Adown some trottin burn's meander, 
An' no think lang: 
O, sweet to stray, an' pensive ponder 
A heart-felt sang.  

Three wintry verses from Burns to mark his day. The Sots dialect is not too difficult here, but just a couple of translations from our third verse. Fand: found. Burn: brook; it crops up in English place-names, Saltburn, Blackburn,  etc..