Day 260

Saturday 05 December

It has been a day of very contrasting emotions. I have been consciously distancing myself from the news over the past week. This only seems to make me angry and frustrated. And there’s enough going on in my own life to take up my thinking space.

A coffee in bed this morning whilst hail rattled against the window and on to the roof outside was a pleasing moment. Warm and snug with nowhere to be anytime soon.

Although we had a nice walk this morning, their was an air of melancholy for me.

Then up and ready to go for a walk with Mabel and the family. Before this Lisa and Adora went to pick up a Christmas tree ready to decorate this afternoon.

The walk was refreshing and made me smile but didn’t provide the same distraction as they do normally. There was simply too much spinning around my head. Nevertheless, it was good to be in the fresh air, and walking a familiar route over fields and through woods.

Back watching football. Only 1000 supporters allowed for the first game, but we made some noise.

Football was finally allowed to permit supporters back this week, and our first game at Colchester United kicked off at 5.30pm this evening. An odd time, again Covid influenced. The opposition requested the later time to allow them to travel from Grimsby on the day rather than stay over the night before. Clubs at this level simply can’t afford it.

A two-one home win was great to see and I sat next to Stan and a good friend with his son. The four of us made a ‘bubble’ that was socially distanced from the next. Sadly, we have a group of seven normally so the others formed another ‘bubble’ in another part of the stand. Although it was good to watch the game, it’s being with your ‘pack’ that makes it complete.

Day 259

Friday 04 December

The day started with heavy snow, by midday it was thawed. The back fields at school were flooded. Beyond the boundary to the left is a graveyard, to the right is the Chelmer & Blackwater Canal.

It’s going to be a short post today. Plenty has happened but I am whacked.

It’s 10.45pm and I’ve been round to see Dad. He had is stent procedure midweek and is struggling; physically he feels drained but it’s mentally where he is needing recovery time the most.

Everyone is finding life hard at the moment, it’s been like this for a while now. I have explained it to colleagues at work in as straight forward a way as possible.

We’re all carrying round a backpack filled with rocks. These rocks vary in size and weight. Some of them are put in by others and some by ourselves. This backpack is always pretty heavy but sometimes it gets too much to carry comfortably. We need to manage this somehow.

Taking rocks out is not easy but it is doable. It just requires some time and some focus. It might also need others to help with deciding which rocks to remove first and maybe to even lend a hand.

The thing is, this back pack is being carried along a really rocky road at the moment. And everyone else has a pretty full backpack. It won’t last forever to this intensity, but we will always be carrying a backpack with rocks in.

Day 258

Thursday 03 December

The short passages of time are providing a pleasent pastime right now. It’s nice to reminisce about things that only happened a few days or weeks ago.

Five days ago we walked and ran on the beach at Frinton-on-Sea. And as I sit here, in the arm chair, on a cold and wet Thursday evening, it’s nice to remember the sights and sounds of just back then.

Sand ripples on Frinton beach.

Sand ripples form on the beach as the tide goes out. Grains of sand build up next to each other as the water moves from right to left. I love the idea of one grain of sand starting each ripple. It takes one particle to stand firm, for another to join it. And so on, and on.

Signs of life in the groin on the beach. Two Beadlet Anemones (Actinia equina). One is open (immersed in water) and the other is closed up as it is exposed to the air.

Casting my mind back to life pre- Coronavirus is a little odd. I don’t want to sound dramatic but life was very different then to now. Today I received an email with instructions on how to attend the match at Colchester United on Saturday. It will be the first one since March. We’ve got used to no crowds and a lack of sound at games.

I feel it’s going to be an emotional Christmas. December is building towards it. People are tired, fatigued by it all. Gradually we will be easing out of this awful time. The lockdown #2 officially came to an end yesterday, we can watch football again, play football again, Christmas music is on the radio and there is a vaccination programme due to start at the end of this month.

Day 257

Wednesday 02 December

A lone gull – but why?

I have been catching some time outdoors the past couple of days. Only doing gate duty and such, but it’s precious. Time to get a fresh blast of cold air on my face and even some sunlight on my eyes. Some days are grey and don’t properly start, others prickle the senses with intense sunlight and chilly winds.

Whilst standing in the car park, welcoming the students, I watched a number of birds, one at a time, flying solo overhead. Just this weekend, I was watching a flock of pigeons circling trees and rooftops by the sea in Walton. And before that, there have been the gathering gangs of crows and rooks, speckling the bare, black branches of the oak and horse chestnut trees near me.

I wonder what these lone fliers are doing? Where they are going? And why? Why alone? One of my favourite books as a child was Jonathan Livingstone Seagull. In that book Jonathan Gull, would spend hours, days and weeks practicing his flying skills and speed. But even his life came to an abrupt end and embarked on a lone journey of enlightenment.

One of the most common reasons a bird will fly alone is that it is sick, or old. As sad as it sounds, many animals take themselves away from the pack when they are injured, diseased or sensing their time is up. Birds are no different. The group they are part of will also not hold back from ushering them on their way, and these behaviours have been observed.

A sick or dying bird is going to attract predators. So it makes sense to remove this risk to the group by removing the potential tisk-trigger. Alongside this, gulls included, are quite solitary in their way. They prefer to take themselves off to try and recover or die alone.

As unlikely as I know it is, I love the notion of the self-aware full. One that recognises when their time is up and quietly slips off alone. Even checking the risk-assessment beforehand.

Of course, there could be a number of other reasons for the solo flight, but I am fascinated by this one. It’s a beautiful thought. That gulls are that self-aware and considerate of its community’s needs.

The next time I look up and see a lone bird flying above me I will tip my cap and wish them bon voyage. Safe journey to wherever they are going.

In England today there were a further 11,000+ diagnosed cases of Covid19 and another 531 deaths in the past 24 hours. But, the first vaccine has passed its UK regulatory checks and will start to be issued next week.

Day 256

Wednesday 01 December

This evening’s waning gibbous moon. November’s Frost Moon.

It was a full moon last night. I woke around 3am and watched out from the bathroom window on to the back garden and the orchard beyond. The moon reflecting the light from the invisible sun on to our little patch of land.

It seems pretty obvious that we notice the moon more in the winter time. We simply see more of it than in the lighter and longer daylight hours the rest of the year. And so, along with the seasonal mystery and unease already present, so the moon casts an eerie floodlight down on to a skeletal, threadbare landscape.

This year of craziness has taken and given. Throughout it I have learned so much more about the things that are right there in front of me. Things that I thought I knew enough about already. So, I knew the moon went through stages; new moon, waxing (as it ‘grew’), full moon, then waning (as it ‘reduced’).

But I didn’t know that the stages just before and just after a full moon are known as the gibbous stages. Tonight, the day after being full, is called the waning gibbous moon, which lasts about a week. There are usually twelve full moons in a year, occasionally thirteen, one per calendar month.

And each one, depending which month it falls, have been given names. The November full moon is the Frost Moon for obvious reasons. The most familiar is the Harvest Moon, the one nearest to the autumn equinox, which usually falls in September.

Day 255

Monday 30 November

Birds of a feather, flock together. Like leaves falling upwards. Seeds being blown by the breeze.

Rock doves (Columba livia), also known as the feral pigeon, flock together in urban areas for a number of reasons.

Firstly, they are a predated creature and so flock in large groups to provide protection from predators such as Peregrines. This is common in the natural world, from fish in shoals to wildebeast in herds.

Then there is the opportunity it provides to train young birds to fly and to learn their locality. The older, more confident birds will tend to be at the front of the flock as they circle repeatedly, landing on the same roof.

Finally, there is the communal aspect that flocking provides. Forming bonds and roosting together on cold nights to share body warmth, preparing for the spring and the first clutches of egg lays.

A few weeks back now, I walked with my Gents Film and Leisure Club along the Suffolk coast past Minsmere and Sizewell A and B power stations. The government announced that the Sizewell C reactor has the provisional go-ahead. The perceived negative impact that this will have on the neighbouring nature reserve and rare bird habitats is of great concern. I have signed this petition.

https://e-activist.com/page/71193/petition/1?ea.tracking.id=twitter-share https://e-activist.com/page/71193/petition/1?en_chan=tw&locale=en-GB&ea.tracking.id=twitter-share&en_ref=192130181

Day 254

Sunday 29 November

We went on an earlier walk today as we had a few other chores to do. We went to Stratford St Mary and one of our familiar walks along the river Stour.

I think this is Great Mullein (Verbascum thapsus). A magical plant that, medicinally, is pretty much anti-everything; anti-inflammatory, anti-histamine etc. It’s also anti-winter blues when I came across it today. Can you spot the three creatures on the plant?

It was so good to see so many people out and about, simply enjoying the outdoors. The sky was grey and drab, no breeze, not cold; a nothing day. A Sunday where you feel never gets started and will end with you feeling kind of robbed.

But, it’s our time, together.

After we got home, I shot over to Dads to take him to the drive through Covid test site in Colchester. It’s for those people booked in for procedures or operations in the coming week. After a short wait, the nurse lent in through the passenger seat window to swab Dad’s throat and nostrils. He choked a little, then giggled like a toddler as his nose was tickled by the nasal swab. We both laughed as we drove away.

Covid and corvid in one picture.

Back home via our house so that Dad could touch base with the kids and share a socially distanced cup of tea. One step at a time is what we have decided. The test today, his stent procedure on Wednesday, then the full-body CT scan next Monday. No second guessing, no what ifs, just one step at a time and see what happens.

I dropped Dad back home, and again, it was so uplifting to see so many families out walking. Just a stroll around the housing estate, a walk up to the church or down a footpath that they have never been before. I do hope that when we eventually push this virus to one side, we remember the good stuff that came from it.

Day 253

Saturday 28 November

I love Saturdays. They have always been the best day of the week by far. And currently, I am appreciating just how especially precious they are during this winter lockdown.

I have repeatedly banged on about my lack of daylight during the week, so those two jewels at the weekend, Saturday and Sunday, sparkle.

We went to the beach hut at Fronton to collect the stove gas and effectively put it bed for the winter. It has been a beautiful crisp day, dry and largely cloud free. Mabel was able to run herself tired and we had a mug of coffee whilst walking on the sand and exploring the breakwater and sand as the tide slipped out.

The sun never gets too high in the sky at this time of the year. But it’s bright and clear. I love how my phone manages the exposure when taking a picture directly facing it. And a lone full glides by.

There were a fair few people and dogs on the beach today. But the beauty of the beaches all along the east coast is they are generous with space.

I place my hands in the shallow water as the waves break. The pure white foam is cold, really cold. Only a few months back I was running across this sand and swimming in that same stretch of sea.

The sea slides in and out over the sand. The foam is almost edible. With the wooshes of the waves and the soundtrack of happy people with their dogs.

For me it’s all about making connections with the natural world around us. Physical contact is the best. Touching the water, feeling the cold on my hands and it feeling even colder when the breeze brushes by; success, connection is made.

Day 252

Friday 27 November

I went to bed last night as the fog was thickening outside and, with an icy still air, was expecting an eerie view out of the bedroom window this morning. Instead the sun brightened the morning as it rose rather than dimly struggle behind thick cloud.

The fog had lifted by first light but this made for a thick frost. Scraping the windscreen was a struggle especially without gloves. But it’s satisfying in its own way, climbing into the drivers seat with numb hands tucked under the armpits. Warm air blowing, full pelt, on to the glass.

Ice frosted to the branches, a solid bit of fog left behind after the cloud has lifted.

The A12 was closed again this morning so the satnav directed me around the scenic route. On Monday the cloud sat low over the fields and reservoir. But this morning it had lifted and made for the most beautiful of views.

Frost crystalised on top of the branches and the most wonderful shades and colours. Subtle, but the special light produces such a vibrancy that only nature can create.

Beautiful, vibrant and subtle shades that only nature can deliver.

Then, on to work and another busy day. No more ‘outside time’ until three-thirty in the afternoon when school ends. Whilst seeing the pupils off, several skeins of geese arrowed themselves inland. Welcome visitors from the coldest parts of Europe, coming to overwinter with us.

Day 251

Thursday 26 November

Yesterday I briefly mentioned how texture is something that is much more apparent to me now that the green has rescinded.

Bark ridges deepen year after year, homes for insects and a unique ‘fingerprint’ for this tree only.

Trees reveal their faces in the autumn and winter. The wind and darkness draws back their leafy veils and shows every wrinkle and crack.

Age impacts on all living things, and our close relationship with trees is evident here to. When trees are young their bark is smooth and largely wrinkle free. But as the years pass the ridges deepen and widen and increase in number.

The marks of time are worn with pride. The snapped branches, overlaps, splits and burs. The signs of disease and infection. Fungus, lichens and mosses, mistletoe all welcomed squatters. The deserted nests of birds and wasps, silhouettes against the grey skies. Holes dug out by woodpecker, and occupied by treecreeper, owls and nuthatch. Insects crawling up and down using the ridges as main roads guiding them from a to b.

Exposed tree would next to the sea on our walk along the Stour estuary. Dead wood, coming alive, changing every year.

Then, whilst the features are uncovered the weather can work on the look. Every spring a new layer of leaves grow, and no one year is the same as the next. Each year of course, the wood changes too. But it’s much more subtle. Another years growth and another years scars.