My rain soaked blog of yesterday was written on St Swithuns Day. Traditionally if it rains or is sunny on his name day then rain or sun will be with us for 40 days. Thankfully this morning is dull with no rain. Which put St Swithun on the spot somewhat. I thought I would check his credentials. An Anglo-Saxon Bishop of Winchester born in about 800. A quick google suggests that his actual career has been eclipsed by folklore and his miracle. Folklore is the 40 days of rain or sun theory. His miracle, apparently, was to restore to perfection some eggs broken by builders on a bridge.
Unlikely, I think. But if those two things have eclipsed his career it suggests he may not have been a particularly effective Bishop in the 800’s. Sometimes these Saints are best left unresearched.
An early morning wake-up of rain at the midpoint of July is hardly a welcome sound. But we know that it is summer rain because it is falling softly. Up until now winter style rain has persisted throughout Spring and early summer. The rain is falling softly but may still cause flooding and other inconveniences.
Today, Alexa woke me with a moderate weather warning.
Is moderate a good enough reason to wake a woman up, I wonder.
Alexa was a little late to be honest, the moderate rainfall had already woken me up along with the chirping birds of the 6:15 alarm.
We have two Alexa devices in regular use. They keep the dogs company when we are out, keeping Hugo and Lola fully abreast of world affairs and interesting topics.
This has been a ponder that I never really knew how to address in the blog until now, but Alexa has a different personality upstairs compared to downstairs.
Downstairs Alexa has a jaunty but practical way about her. Reminding us of our looming domestic apocolypses, low on bin bags, charity toilet rolls and vitamins etc. To be honest she gets the tone about right. I am forever irritated by radio journalists or presenters who use voices, constantly , that suggest they have a barely concealed,but fake laugh or giggle hiding just behind their scripted words.
For what it is worth I prefer friendly with no hint of mirth, unless I am listening to comedy in which case mirth is just fine.
Upstairs Alexa is a different proposition. She is Eeyore in female computer generated form. If she was a hotel receptionist she would have her forehead on the desk or be crocheting Granny Squares in shades of grey and beige.
Upstairs Alexa wakes me up to tell me the day is going to be average. If she were a friend I would be concerned for inability to find joy in anything. Her mantra seems to be.
” Start your day, the gloomy way”
So in the spirit of upstairs Alexa, rain-soaked images from the yard are the illustrations for today.
I have crisscrossed the Tamar River using these bridges every day this week and sailed underneath them on a ferry yesterday. The river and the sea dominate every journey at the southern end of the Tamar Valley. The first rail bridge was built by Isambard Kingdom Brunel between 1854-59. A road bridge was built in 1961.
Before that a variety of ferries powered, intially, by rowers and ropes crossed the river at this point for 800 years.
It was rowers that made us visit again yesterday.
A Regatta with Gig Rowing is always a feast for the eyes. We are ‘resting’ Gig rowers @theoldmortuary.
While the events of a Regatta occur on the water. There is plenty of other action on the Cornish bank.
Regalia and speeches.DrummingBouncy castlesStalls selling stuff
Even our ferry journey home had a curious whizz through history. The banks of the Tamar are edged by small surviving examples of the Atlantic Rain Forest, a habitat that is well beyond being under threat.
Atlantic Rain Forest
In the same small stretch of water we passed this paddle boarder.
A power boat and a Pirate Ship.
And a Nuclear Submarine.
And just like riverside dwellers for centuries have done. We waved to a friend as we left.
Luckily she was wearing orange and white. Which was my theme for making a Morris Dancing/ Tamar Bridges/ Pop Art image later in the day. I was aiming for a Punk anarchy energy.
This blog is supposed to be about me finishing a watercolour after four months. But then my blog host put this teasing question on my admin page . I can answer the question with this painting. After four months of doodling I thought I was done. You could say, I was secure that enough was enough. But the minute the finished photograph was taken I knew that security was never going to work for this string bag of windfall apples. The leaves are not bold enough, the leaves are going on an adventure. The leaves are going bolder. Flakes of gold leaf are going to make the leaves sparkle.
April
There was never a plan to paint windfall apples in a string bag. I just wanted something to paint in a meditative way while talking at an artists social gathering.
May
First coloured orbs appeared.
June
Then the string bag.
The arrival of the string bag somehow turned the orbs into bruised and imperfect apples.
July
And that should have been that, but the leaves are all wrong so the August gathering of art natterers will see me possibly adventuring too far with this picture. It could go well . It may not.
In my search for creative adventure I could be…
Gilding the Lily.
Saturday pondering, it is often a surprise to me how a blog will end and sometimes even the beginning takes me unawares.
The yard has started to produce a small handful of strawberries. Today’s haul gave us two bums.
This week has been all about gathering things, mostly lovely conversations with friends. And also some stray thoughts because my life is all about gathering virtually useless information.
Strawberries are not called strawberries because they are habitually grown on straw to protect from slugs. The name comes from the Anglo-Saxon language when they had a descriptive name of Stray Berries because they throw off runners to create new plants.
I also learnt a new acronym. ‘ There we are then’ a really polite phrase that neatly responds to the news that someone has behaved in a particularly vile or unpleasant way.
Another offering from the yard for Friday is sharp evening shadows . White Agapanthas and my newly white painted wall.
The bobbers are late getting to our regular Wednesday evening swimming habit. Maybe only a few weeks late. Most years we tend to start in early June. The tide was set well for an 8pm dip. And with no forethought at all I had called the bob for the exact time the England football team were playing a televised semi-final match. A good result for England as they won and a very good result for the bobbers who got a whole glorious seascape to themselves. Moments like this are a real privilege, we could swim out a bit and catch the evening sun. Hugo and Lola could sniff the incoming tide and fish for seaweed without irritating anyone. They do not usually come to a bob. Bobbers who drove could use nearly empty roads . It was a win-win kind of evening. If there was a chink of gloom it is that the water has not really warmed up to normal July levels and there were less bobbers than normal,but everything else was perfect.
When I found a tree with buttocks last week I used the image to share with a choir who had been singing about the Green Man. I quite enjoyed tinkering with the image at the time but had forgotten about it, a week or so has passed. But then Instagram gave me this little mind twister this morning.
This sort of madness makes me laugh. Just a little bit of a wry smile during such moments is such a private, magical, but life-enhancing thing. If tree bottoms were this morning’s ‘private smile’.Yesterday gave me one for different reasons.
Yesterday there were many early morning jobs to be done but the weather was not encouraging .
A free parking space in the city centre and a cup of tea in a local outdoor cafe were two reasons to celebrate early tasks achieved and success in all areas of the dog walking.
In two of the 4 grey seascapes above, there is actually a cruise ship anchored up in Plymouth Sound.
While I was enjoying my cup of tea and the concept of free parking at 8am. Passengers from the cruise ship were being landed out of sight but straight ahead of me. Out of the mist rose lively, welcoming Military Band music. Honestly, what a lovely sound to perk up a grey early morning. Another private smile moment.
What strategies do you use to increase comfort in your daily life?
This is my strategy.
I have the ugliest pair of crocs to wear in our yard. They live by the French windows and never see action anywhere beyond the yard. They have a much more grippy sole than a regular croc and were only available in two colour ways. This camo green with electric blue was the most acceptable of the two offerings. They need grip because in winter, parts of the yard can get slippy.
The outdoor mirror is also the only one in the house where it is easy to see how a whole outfit looks.
So the crocs get worn with all our best outfits. Small crocs are provided for small people.
There is a flaw in this strategy.
Sometimes small people or even larger people interrupt the flow of getting ready to go out. On occasions the crocs have made it beyond the front door to the outside world with posh/smart/lovely outfits because they were not taken off. A return home is essential on these occasions.
Writing a daily blog about the repetitions and mundanity of regular life has given me appreciation and fascination with how unplanned moments shape the activities and experiences of most days. Making every day an adventure of sorts. Future ponders that are formed by normal life are very exciting. What will I be thinking about next?
Yesterday we had a Naming Day to attend. So fancy clothes were required.
A small boy was welcomed into his community, with a service by a celebrant, surrounded by his family and friends. A bubble of Love.
We were in a small Devon village where similar services along with marriages and funerals would have been celebrated in similar ways for centuries.
Food, drinks, lots of hugging and happiness. When the time came to leave we were stuck. Halted by a scene that would have been part of this small villages life for the same amount of centuries
The sheep gave me time to ponder on the importance of marking these life milestones with my friends and family. As many of us shrug off the rituals and commitments dictated by religion we don’t mark becoming a couple or the arrival of a child as much as our forbears did. The last vestige is perhaps funerals but even those are going the ‘no-fuss’ way. But gathering together to eat and drink with our fellow humans, for a couple of hours to mark a significant event is such a lovely thing to do. We should do it more often perhaps, gathering is good for us. In reference to the first image. Are gatherings the building blocks of family, community and society?
It is not every day that a tree presents itself as a pair of handstanding buttocks.
Last weekend I was singing a song cycle celebrating The Green Man.
Yesterday I found him, butt naked, cavorting in a local park. A briefly sharp sunbeam alerted me to his performative bottom. I’ve just digitally tweaked his butt to make him a little more obvious. ( Not a sentence I would normally share on the blog!)
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