JANUARY - "I dreamed that as I wandered by the way, Bare winter was changed suddenly to spring..."
"I dreamed that as I wandered by the way,
Bare winter was changed suddenly to spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream."
from "The Question" by P. B. Shelley
There are many quotations on the subject of January, mostly invoking that bleakness we associate with the after-Christmas period. Could it be we have an obligation to feel bleak after a glorious run of joy and over-indulgence through December and the New Year? The fact is that, however your Christmas went for you, it will be impossible to remain hopeless if you put on your warmest coat and take a walk. Not one of those power walks - but an outing which draws from the natural world around us and allows for observation and appreciation.
I acknowledge that many cannot walk far and many more do not have a warm coat.
The warm coat thing can be rectified by employing layers - even better for insulation than one thick item.
The problem with mobility is more difficult to solve of course.
Throughout my life I have witnessed examples of people battling with mobility problems ahead of those years when one might expect to have them. My great-aunt walked with a stick for as long as I can remember - and I knew her from my baby days - but she continued to teach music and visit family and she remained cheerful. She noticed things. She loved the diminutive little violets which grew around the edges of my grandfather's garden. She was eighty three when she died and I remember her with fondness and respect. Every time I see violets, I think of her.
That was a long time ago and a long way away.
Here and now, we have a marvellous example of someone who commands our respect in much the same way. An elderly man lives on our hill and struggles to walk with sticks. But walk he will! He also hauls himself up into his tractor and gets around his fields that way, inspecting fences and livestock.
Such people are a beacon for the rest of us when we feel trapped by illness and frailty. My great-aunt grew up in Carrhouse, Belton - the same cottage my grandparents lived in until they moved, in their later years, to Churchtown, Belton. As a boy, the man on the hill played on and around the ancient broch which stands across the road from our little wood. So here are two examples of those who have kept faith with the countryside, and growing things, all their lives long.
At the beginning of the month, as I was clearing the icy path with my shovel, I was brought up sharply by the smell of the pines which grow between the kitchen garden and the orchard - such a beautiful fragrance!
A few days later and winter threw everything at us as we walked the dogs - but - and this is one of those big buts - we saw a very high rainbow due to the low sun and the sun itself was like something from Star Wars! It was a ball of pale, pale gold and there was an eeriness to it - almost as if it would burst out from its low position and jet across the sky - out of control! The sky itself comprised drifts of stormy colours.
And then the snow came - in tiny hard pellets. Ouch! Ginny came out to meet Clem and me, carrying the big brolly to save her ancient and venerable mum from the worst of it!!
The walks at the beginning of the year were challenging due to the bitter cold. I just kept on adding layers. One day I would put on two pairs of gloves. Another day I would tie down my hood with a scarf. Wearing thick socks as well as my wellie socks seemed a good idea at the time but taking them off was awkward!! At one point I thought I would have to cut myself out of my wellies!
All's well that ends well!
The winter weather painted the flagstones with delicate icy patterns - and I spotted tiny leaf shoots on the honeysuckle by the gate!!
The roads were safely passable on the twelfth and so we had a visit from our Black Isle family. They helped with a much-needed bonfire. I don't think the adults loved it any less than the children!
The middle of the month brought higher temperatures and so many new shoots peeping through the soil and on branches. There were still ice floes on the pond and in buckets and the ground was hard.
The morning walk was very rewarding. We had a truly beautiful view of the Wolf Moon in a moody sky above the farm. As things had thawed and the cold rains had soaked the moorland, the River Forss had filled to flooding, backing up its tributaries so that they shone like silver filigree on the hillside. A hare shot across our near view like a bullet from a gun. I honestly think I've never seen one run so fast before. We see lots of hares around our home and some don't seem too afraid but this one really wanted to get away.
The next day began with an intensely red sunrise spread across the eastern sky. Jess was clingy on her walk. It was a very emotional day - the day a ceasefire had been agreed between Hamas and Israel. It was also the day I noticed three snowdrops peeping through behind the swing, daffodil spikes in the grass on the broch corner, leaf buds on the spindle tree and podgy hyacinths poking from the pot by the porch door. The box hedge which defines a part of the shrubbery looked so brilliant - extremely green - and the world felt a little bit better that night.
The snowdrops multiplied overnight and the podgy hyacinth buds now stand at five and are even podgier. We watched a tractor ploughing on Baillie Farm and, at the end of that week, the westerlies were so warm that we felt we may have been under a hairdryer as we walked the dogs.
This didn't last very long. The sky was on fire again as Saturday dawned - heralding a beautiful but very cold day. That Saturday and the following Saturday were indoor days though.
Each January, we become couch potatoes on two (usually consecutive) Saturdays when we watch the three extended films of The Hobbit and then the three extended films of The Lord of the Rings.
We followed Hobbit Day with a morning moving logs into the log store. That day we noticed new leaves on the elder in Toad Hall. Spring is lurking and hiding in plain sight!
As Donald Trump was busy signing away the world's security on the twenty-first, we found new shoots and spikes of green everywhere. Then came one of those magical mornings with swathes of mist moving all the time, the fields and grass verges silver-grey with it. All little things were keeping a low profile. There was such a deep peace over the moors, the pastures, the woods and the water courses.
Storm Eowyn shook us from our reverie. Red deer were on the hillside - they mostly stay on the moor - it's the roe deer we see close to the house. There was a sense of needing to prepare for the coming storm. Space needed to be made in the garage for the chickens and the quail had extra protection added to their housing.
Eowyn arrived, bringing hail, sleet, snow, sunshine and some very strong winds. Gone now! But we still have cold winds from the north pegging down the temperatures.
As I was washing my hands, I looked up to see a pizza crust moving through the dead twigs and leaves not far from the window. The tiny creature behind the movement suddenly stopped. Along the taller twigs hopped a blackbird. The pizza stood stock still. The opportunistic blackbird descended to the lower level of twigginess and flew up with the pizza crust in its beak. I can only imagine the look of bewilderment on the face of the pizza's driving force!! I was never really sure what it was!
The blackbird was only one of the needy birds we have come across this month. He has many more family members. In fact, the blackbirds have ruled the kitchen scraps over the cold weather. One of the less usual visitors has been a brambling and, I think, a female brambling too. I'm quite certain about the male though. I studied him long and hard as he ate from the feeder, returning during the harshest weather but not having been seen for a few days now.
Bob Robin comes regularly, always making me smile - and always managing to communicate - how does he do this? I mean, how is it that this little bolshevik of a bird can melt my heart? A mystery!
The resident barn owl has now been given a name - Sylvie! Might be a male I suppose - but Sylvie suits him/her! "Who is Sylvia ? What is she - that all the swains commend her?"
Our Stempster owl is quite a character, driving Ginny crazy as she tries to get good shots with her camera.
On one bitterly cold morning walk we were treated to a greeting from the barn owl. It sat on a fence post near the old mill and then moved to a fence post much closer to us. At that point, it lost its nerve a little and flew further up the triangle field where it performed a display for us. Ginny then said that barn owls fly like moths. I thought about it and I think I know where she's coming from!!
The geese have been filling the skies and grazing the fields here through January. A regular skein of approximately twenty five move backwards and forwards from north to south. There have always been geese. They seem to follow me! Truth is I'm quite fond of them but I know they can be a pest too, especially in large numbers.
Our river, the Forss, is a lively part of our countryside here in the north west of Caithness. I grew up surrounded by rivers and the effects of historical drainage. As a child, I watched dragonflies busy around the River Torn and saw the tidal bore on the River Trent. This was known as the Aegir and, sometimes, was very impressive. Other times, not so much! As a young adult I drove along the ancient course of the Old River Don on windy roads with wide skies all around me.
A river should be full of life and interest. Many are not anymore, and good people are constantly battling with companies and local authorities to get them to clean up their rivers.
Our River Forss comes down through Westfield from the moors and passes through the valley below us, goes past the mill and through the grounds of the Forss Hotel until it reaches the Atlantic Ocean. We can see the ocean on our hill and, in clear weather, we can see the island of Hoy (Orkney), jutting out into the cold waters of the North Atlantic.
Birds follow the river from the ocean and we sometimes see surprising seabirds on our river. This month a guillemot was there alongside the more usual heron!
Fieldfares have come to us, for the winter, from Scandinavia and we see small flocks of them foraging in the corners of fields. One lunchtime, over twenty of them decided to lunch in our front garden!
The crows are behaving strangely at present - shouting at us when we pass by the trees. One was carrying a twig - probably with an eye to nest-building! They're certainly not as striking as the lapwings - fifty or sixty of those flew off from our hill last week - but the crows do have such character. You could never call them aloof - they really seem to want to belong!
Coming home from Thurso on Tuesday, we spotted the male hen harrier flying over the river and part way up our hill. His plumage was vibrant - so clearly defined in shades of bluey grey with flashes of black and white. Some people have described him as a silver ghost but, to me, he's far too precise for that label.
The last of the birds to get a special mention this month is Jenny Wren. Ginny, Judith and Clemency call her "Jessie's Nemesis" and she certainly seems to tease Jess as we walk alongside the stone walls. The little bird can pop into a crevice and disappear for as long as she likes - thereby driving Little Dog Jess absolutely nuts. I do think she's lovely though and, like the crow, quite a character!
I recently discovered that a lady I knew, when I was growing up in the Isle of Axholme, had passed away last October at the grand age of 97. Mrs. Beecroft had been a nurse and lived at Northferry Farm which, at one time, had been lived in by my Temperton family. I remember my grandfather, Bob Temperton, talking about threshing at Northferry Farm when he was young. Mrs. Beecroft was a kind and private lady and I started thinking about the lovely people I grew up with in that place and at that time of my life. I thought of Mrs Burgess, Mr and Mrs Kitson, the Walls family, the Hackney family, the Fox family and Mr and Mrs Needham. Mrs Franks sold her land to Dad but kept her house and, across the road from her, lived Ernie Addlesee. Mr Addlesee was quite a character and known by all the village. The older men used to congregate outside his house on the corner. Sometimes they were joined by younger men from nearby - and by Eva Needham, Ernie Addlesee's sister. They would chinwag for England!!
These memories, though fading a little now, are priceless. My grandparents, Bob and Ivy Temperton, lived in Rose Cottage, between Mr and Mrs Fox and Mr and Mrs Needham. Mr Needham's brother, Jack, was quite a recluse and lived in a house there, surrounded by overgrown fruit trees, very much hidden from view. That area down Belshaw Lane and heading towards Sandtoft, is full of Isle history and so much a part of me. So many happy Christmas days, hopeful new years and wonderful walks all year through - even, with a warm coat, in January!!
I don't live my life here separated from my roots - I love my home in Caithness and hope I need never leave it - but my Axholme roots still anchor me in my observation and appreciation of the natural world.
"Then came old January, wrapped well
In many weeds to keep the cold away
Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell
And blewe his nayles to warm them if he may;
For they were numbed with holding all the day,
An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood
And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray."
from "The Faerie Queen" by Edmund Spencer
Comments
Post a Comment