Sunbathing in Wintertime

pigeons sunbathing 23 November

About 10.00 this morning these pigeons had fluffed up their feathers and were clearly enjoying a safe sunbathe.

Rejoicing mutually and mutually complaining

An Englishman’s notice of the weather is the natural consequence of changeable skies and uncertain seasons… In our island every man goes to sleep unable to guess whether he shall behold in the morning a bright or cloudy atmosphere, whether his rest shall be lulled by a shower, or broken by a tempest. We therefore rejoice mutually at good weather, as at an escape from something that we feared; and mutually complain of bad, as of the loss of something that we hoped.

Samuel Johnson, The Idler, No. II, in Life of Johnson, Volume 4 1780-1784″ by James Boswell

Tree Shadow

Winter sun, low even at lunchtime.

Autumn in the woods

I only plunged into the woods because the low sun was in my eyes, but it was turning the dying fronds of bracken into gold. Another time to stop and stare.

Just a light breakfast, please.

There was a spring in my step, despite the Autumn day and my Autumnal years. I had just been told that my cataract op had been successful, healing was proceeding according to expectations. And the sun came out.

Why not have fish and chips for lunch at Herne Bay clocktower? The shop recommended by Abel was open. I had to wait for the meal to be cooked, and it was all I could do to eat this ‘small’ portion, or so I thought. All of it was delicious.

This board advertising a light breakfast caught my rejuvenated eye. I’m not sure I’d have put that away even when I was doing hard manual work for a living! No doubt it will be as well cooked as the fish and someone will enjoy it, to the last little bean.

Their moment

On a bright morning after torrential rain, I walked home along the city wall. The sun lit up the golden maple on the ramparts. That is the bandstand on the lawn below.

The red maple is at the junction of Black Griffin Lane and Saint Peter’s Street.

Both trees are having their moment in the sun, while their leaves are still expanding and allowing as much light through as they reflect.

Shadowland

Plato talked of prisoners watching shadows on a wall and picturing the outside world from what they saw projected there. Not picturing it very clearly.

This afternoon, a low sun was shining through the birch tree, casting intricate shadows upon the gable end of next door. Two shadows were more mobile than the rest. Up and across the wall they went, tails flicking. Magpies, instantly recognisable even in monochrome. I could picture them very clearly indeed!

One of Those Years

By no means every year does The Tree produce more than a dozen apricots. This is a good year so we were grateful to have a harvester on hand to give Mrs T a pleasant afternoon in the sun, preparing to make 20 jars of jam – we’ll be saving some in case we have a few lean years to come. Thank you, Son, for your hard work!