#1029 theoldmortuary ponders.

Still Summer.

August 31st and it is still summer, only just, the summer tide is going out. But not before the bobbers managed a historic bob, with P.S Waverley the world’s last working Paddle Steamer coming into the background of their evening swim. A paddle steamer and three choices of cake. It really was an epic bob.

©Angela Bobber
Bobbers stretching all the way from the shore to the buoy.

Our Cornish bobbers got to see the Waverley twice, catching her again on their return across the Tamar.

Still summer, a phrase that uses the word ‘still’ two ways.

It is still summer but summer has also slipped into its still phase. The last summer storm, Lilian, happened a week ago. She was a screamer for a few hours, rattling chimney pots and screeching up our cobbled back lanes  before stirring the sea into a murky stew for a few days.

Since Lilian we have slipped into the still summer phase, no raging heat, gentle rains, crystal clear seas and some really lovely days. Not that I am looking at Summer 2024 with rose tinted glasses. She arrived shockingly late when June had already started and Spring hardly made an appearance. Tomorrow we hit the first day of Autumn/Fall, lets hope summer drags her heels a bit and leaves as late, if not later than she arrived.

#1028 theoldmortuary ponders.

Last night we went to see an art exhibition featuring the work of one of our bobbing friends.

She has been doing her Masters in Illustration.

We really loved her work.

But it is hard to show in a 2D format. Bobbers have played their part in her research, we sniffed our way through the olfactory part of her final project when we were very cold and damp. Glad to see our hard work paid off.

Another aspect that is impossible to share in this format. Regardless we are very proud of her and so happy to be able to give her a gentle squeeze. The poor woman has been acutely ill this week.

Not remotely linked to art, it is bobbing and Covid-19  that delivered her to us as a friend.  As we walked around to look at other students work it was surprising how many people we recognised from other sea swimming or paddle boarding groups that use the Stonehouse swimming beaches.

Small worlds that collide.

All work © Debra Parkinson. Link below to artist information.

https://aup-postgraduate.co.uk/Debra-Parkinson

#1027 theoldmortuary ponders

Every picture does not tell the story. This calm section of water was at the bottom of a huge waterslide. I was there to catch images of family members hurtling their way towards me having an exhilarating splashy ride to the bottom. This is evidence that I missed my moving targets. This image, though, feels very calm.

Another calm,watery  image occurred yesterday.

Still water in the harbour as I walked to the bakery. Both accidental really. The greyness of the sky makes this image a little dull. But overlaying one over the other makes the combined image more vivid but there is still a sense of calm.

Isn’t life like that though? Something unplanned enhances the planned or expected outcome of an action or escapade. I am glad I didn’t just dump the first image because it was not what I wanted. It may become a very useful perker upper of photos that are not quite colourful enough. Just one tiny tweak and the whole image becomes a very believable sunset.

#1026 theoldmortuary ponders.

What was the last thing you searched for online? Why were you looking for it?

The last of my proposed climbers to be planted in the yard in 2024. I checked on-line and most nurseries were out of stock. I was also checking when to plant. Early autumn while the soil is warm was the advice. So basically the time is now. My long term goal is for all the climbers to mingle. Exactly as in the illustration below.

Clematis Avalanche should head towards Wisteria Amethyst Falls. Hopefully they land safely together. Sprawling elegantly across our garage roof. Turning something fairly ugly into something fragrant and beautiful to herald the arrival of spring.

Being a climbing plant in my yard is like accepting an arranged marriage. The chain of mingling stretches from a very happy free gift from a friends garden, a winter jasmine, in the most exposed part of the yard and travels via a semi subterranean garage to a golden fruit producing passion flower that was a gift from Dan, the man who built our boundary extending trellis in May.

In between there are climbing roses, evergreen honeysuckle, more jasmine and a potato vine.

Just like an interfering busy body I am often out in the yard trying to introduce plant tendrils to one another

Sometimes they get the idea of mingling but other times I need to interfere with hairy garden twine.

Evergreen Honeysuckle meets Wisteria.

This morning I decided not to wait for on-line nurseries to restock and called into a local one on the off chance of them having an evergreen clematis. Just one rather sad looking individual was skulking behind much showier climbers. She came home with me and a new ball of hairy twine. My planting of climbers in  2024 is done. Just the mingling to sort out now.

 

#1025 the old mortuary ponders.

This headline popped up on my newsfeed last night. For us, in the South-West of England we have one more week until we see our last 8pm sunset. Our house lies in a perfect East/West position so sunrises are observed from the main bedroom and sunsets from the kitchen and studio. Both are easily viewed by walking the dogs at the right time of day. The sun rises over the sea and sets as we look up the river. 

Yesterday was International Day of the Dog, and it is the dogs that have made me much more aware of sunrises, sunsets and all the natural changes that occur in landscape. Hugo arrived 11 years ago and with his arrival came the daily habit of walking the dog. A three times a day, wander for about twenty minutes minimum, wherever we happen to be. If I had never owned a dog I would never have known the pleasure of small changes and repetition. Before Hugo I would have said I was a keen walker, someone who liked to go for walks when I had the time, was on holiday or some other delightful reason.  Before Hugo I probably had specific clothes and shoes that I knew were comfortable/ appropriate for walks.  Now I never mention walking as a quasi hobby, I do it in whatever I happen to be wearing and I do it whenever it is needed. In all weathers.

Walking is the beginning and the end of my day. I had no idea what I was missing before I owned a dog.

I realise that I could easily do frequent daily walks without a dog . Just as I could write daily without a blog. But I doubt I would do either without a reason.

#1024 theoldmortuary ponders.

Scrag end of summer in a wildflower meadow. Late August always feels a little worn around the edges but these wild flowers were as fresh as daisies this morning.

The sunflowers were turning their heads to the sun and all felt right with our world.

I enjoy the transition phases of the seasons. Autumn into winter is my least favourite but Christmas and the shortest day pull me through that slump. But right now the joy of sunflowers makes me smile.

#1023 theoldmortuary ponders.

A day of ambling in a favourite market town. Inspired by using up a Christmas voucher for breakfast out. While at The Annex I had a weird, but unponderable  familiarity with a picture on the wall.

Oh the magic of a good night’s sleep. This was the picture on an album I carried around when I was in the sixth form at school.

© eBay

This is not the subject of today’s ponder, but how strange that my sleeping head pulled this out of the archive. Stranger still that 16 year olds went to school with a mountain of books, and in an effort to look cool, also lugged vinyl records around in the vain hope that the communal record player would be available to play their favoured album, during the precious ‘free’ periods.

Tavistock is one of my favourite towns. I worked there regularly but have never wanted to live there. Every day there is a market and no two days are the same. Tavistock is within the Dartmoor National Park, and because of its location on a moor, the weather in the town turns out a bit wetter than I can tolerate. But visiting is just fine, whatever the weather. The market today was its usual jumble of stuff.

Fabulous locally grown veg.

And country hats for country chaps.

Vinyl

I would have checked for the album if I had remembered.

And as luck would have it some copper.

Copper is significant because Tavistock is an ancient Stannary Town. Mining of tin being the early source of wealth. Copper mining and the wool trade came later but copper  makes a much prettier picture. But this winter picture of sheep shows just how the landscape has looked forever.

Town history below.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tavistock

It is the texture of Tavistock that I love. So much history and bustling with civic activity since 961 AD.   Something is very thrilling about being in a market town that has been a market town for so very long. Knowing that apart from my clothing and possibly my lack of body odour, nothing would have stood out about our visit or purchases yesterday, and time travel permitting we could easily have been at the very first market. A loaf of bread  some green vegetables and a coal skuttle. No sheep at the market yesterday but below is a Greyface Dartmoor I met some time ago.

©theoldmortuary

Every time I visit I wonder why I don’r go more often.

#1022 theoldmortuary ponders

Tell us about the last thing you got excited about.

This Instagram post made me chuckle. Excited one step removed really. My dad loved to store pieces of wood. He even bought wood from a wood merchant that he loved with no actual project in mind. His dad and brother were both avid storers of bits of wood. When my grandad died they would have shared the bounty.

Not the sort of woodstore I mean.

When my dad died my uncle told me not to ‘worry’ about the shed ( or wood store) . I didn’t worry. The random bits of wood were guaranteed a good home even if they never made it to an actual construction. I still love the smell of a well kept wood store. Curiously I never photograph them. So some grotty old pallets will have to do.

#1021 theoldmortuary ponders.

And so the first truly greige day of the Scrag End of Summer has arrived. By coincidence this colour chart popped up on Facebook yesterday. The first time I have seen the word greige on a colour chart.

I quite like Scrag End of Summer as it softly blends into Autumn.

Autumn leaf on greige.

Not that I am declaring summer over, just being realistic about the arrival of greige while hoping for a heatwave.

This leaf was photographed on just such a day in September, last year. I was just returning from an impromptu swim and this leaf floated down onto a paving slab that had feint orange markings. Serendipity at its arty best.

Accepting greige hoping for better.

Welcome to the Scrag End.

#1020 theoldmortuary ponders.

My name, Juliet appeared in the middle ages. The feminine form of Julian which itself derives from Julius a Roman name.

Where did your name come from?

I got my name as an accident of birth. My mothers mother met a best friend immediately post- birth in a small maternity unit in the 1930’s. The two women remained friends and their daughters, born in the 50’s subsequently became friends. I am the third generation of this female bonding and am named after another third generation Juliet.

I do wonder if my mum’s friend was OK with her choice of name being used a second time. Sometimes an unusual name is chosen for its uniqueness. The other Juliet is a wonderful person so I have no problem with having a slightly secondhand name. Does sharing a name tighten our bond, I think so.

I’ve been a Juliet all my life, it is a name that has shaped me. I disagree with Shakespeare, my name has worth and meaning to me.