The View from the Library Window

A writing exercise to staty mentally sharp, this is! I'm sat here, writing e-mails, thinking about my screenplay, and looking for career inspiration and life improving things while thinking of the tea and cake I shall have later, once I have trecked the lightly frosted pavements looking for DVDs.

Twenty feet to my right is a the one set of windows I can see that aren't blocked by bookshelves. The slanting uppers are streaked with dirt, tree sap and the like probably infused with a heedy brew of pigeon droppings. The main tree outside is a silver birch just outside is a Silver Birch, many of its leaves still green, it's boughs looking a little damp and shivery. At its base are a couple of shrubs, probably well watered by the street drinkers that use the civial war sculpture I can't see as a meeting place. A female blackbird roots around in the leaf litter with frenetic tosses of its feathered head.

Beyond is a tree I can't identify, again hanging on to its leaves but these are the colour of polished brass - how instense the colours are this autumn, exacerbated by today's harsh light issuing out of a slightly washed out looking blue sky. This tree obscures most of the millenium arch, one metallic column stands in modern contrast to the original Beaumond Cross whch stands behind it, curiously off the vertical.

In the furthest part of the view, tall trees stand around a large house, multiple chimney stacks signalling old money.

There are a thousand greens outside, all beautiful.

Spring hopes as Jupiter kisses the moon

Sorrow again.

The cold deepens and the winds rise. The waning moon is reaching across to kiss Jupiter in the Eastern sky, but never quite reaches it; celestial love denied.

Haloes around the moon show the gathering frost; high snowly looking clouds feather the firmanent.

These are the miserable months, the months of riskily cycling to work on icey roads being sworn at by flatbed truck drivers as my hands freeze purple even within two pairs of gloves. Work is no warmer, there is nothing to huddle against as you try and warm your insides with gestapo ersatz coffee.

Yes there is hope. 615am, the skies are clear, the temperature glacial. But up there are the signs of spring that show that winter will not last forever. Leo the lion rests with Venus below his paws. The bowl of Virgo rises with all its galaxies I've never seen.

And brightest of all, Arcturus the orange harbringer of spring hauls itself into the sky above the streetlights.

A Grey Day, a Sad Day

Yesterday was my first free one after my shift, and I celebrated by getting up early, faffing about for two hours with bits and bobs in my flat, and finally heading out on the Coddington route. Few goldfinches about, and on the way up beacon hill, a lot of starlings on the farmland at the top, decorating the power lines like gothic baubles.

I'm not seeing many Yellowhammers in 2012 - normally they are all over the hedges when you go out onto the country, but this year have only seen the odd one. Still seeing plenty of Goldfinches in small flocks.

No sign of flocking Chaffinches yet. They are a common winter sight up at Beacon Hill park.

In the afternoon was a rather sad occasion, my last visit to the Millgate Museum cafe before it's permanent closure at 4.30pm - I rather fancied staying to the grim end but I had other stuff to do. It's been a wonderful place, nice cheap and generous pots of tea with two colour lollipops; little polystyrene bird or butterfly gliders to buy and sit upon my dusty mantlepiece amongst the Quiz League trophies wioth the decals falling off and endless flat batteries.

Everyday I'd sit and watch the river go by, dream of owning a houseboat, and watch the swans, mallards and wagtails - Pied in winter, Grey in spring. The big rusting barge fascinated me, its cloak of many oxidies colours, its collection of plants growing in the bilges. Dragonflies bluely glittered over the island.

And I sat with my tea, amidst the olde worlde toys and games that always fascinated me, sometimes talking to the excellent staff, or usually just reading and learning and dreaming of many many different escapes.

It's a terrible shame to lose a facility such as this. Sadly, I never saw it busier than on its last day.

War in the Air

I've been out running three days out of the last four, mainly by London Road lake where the Mallards are gathering, the Grebes watch but the Tufted Ducks are on holiday, and through Beacon Hill Reserve where I saw no woodpecker, or none of the flocks of Chaffinches I associate with the reserve in the colder months.

Today I ran out to Coddington the back way via Barnby Lane, and back into town along the main road. Like most of the last few days it has been so grey and drizzle misty the sky is about 5 feet above your head and the church spire is sliced off by cloud.

Had a good sight today as I ran over the bridge over the A1 on Barnby Lane, although it happened so fast it wasn't a sight you could imprint on your mind at leisure. A small bird was all but in the talons of what I think was probably a Sparrowhawk from the length of the tail, wings folded all over as it made an impossibly tight turn in its quest for its prey. It disappeared behind the trees, as I disappeared over the brow of the hill before turning onto the tractor muddied road up to Coddington.

Shaggy Ink Cap in clover

Fungi loving the endless damp

A harvestman?

Nose scythed off by Woodpecker

Having had a few days in Leeds where to an occasional visitor like me doesn't know where the city centre green spaces are, birds and wildlife have been in short supply.

So today I took a 7 mile trip past London Road lake - where the totally out of eclipse mallards have gathered, including the pure white domestic interloper that has been lurking a few weeks, but no Tufteds. Young Moorhens are growing up, and plenty of white headed Black Headed Gulls were there too.

The bushes are red with berries, but the Buddleiah by Barnby Lane Bridge is still in purple bloom, unlike mine. No butterflies though, the frosts have seen to that I think.

Ran the length of Clay Lane hoping for a glimpse of Bullfinches, Yellowhammers or the newly arriving fleets of Fieldfares I've read about, but nothing doing. However, as I ran through the nursery in Beacon Hill Reserve, a flash of black and white erupted from one of the low Hawthorns so close to my face I could just about feel its wings beating on my face.

I just thought "oh, magpie" but as it flew away and I carried on running, I could see it had no tail. And then it sat in a tree, high up, but the flash of red at the base of the tail stuck out like a wound.

A Greater Spotted Woodpecker! A first for me here, even though the Wildlife Trust info boards mention them as something to look for. But then they are probably easily spooked by me crasing about. This one wouldn't let me get close to  it.

A lovely spot, on a bright, crisp day.