I'm not able to run at the moment, thanks to being stuffed with the achey legs, hot flushes and headaches that indicate the start of a heavy cold. The days have been lovely, but the nights cold and crisp, and even feeling less than a hundred percent as I do, I figured it was time to take advantage of clear skies last night.
As I wrote the other day, the constellations of spring are now beginning to make their presence known in our skies. At midnight, the southern aspect is dominated by Leo, with Jupiter sad shining creamy white by his tail - yes, his tail, I always envisage the celestial lion the other way round from most people - with two moons in binocular view to the west of the planet. Slightly further west, and south, the head of the Hydra is poised to strike.
Hydra is the largest constellation in the sky and fills up the entirety of the southern view as far as below Virgo, but its stars are mainly faint with the exception of the orange second magnitude star Alphard, which can be seen in an otherwise blank area of sky below Leo.
Still high, but beginning to drop down into the west, is Cancer, and I was able to view both of the crab's open clusters in my 10x50s. Messier 67 is dim but faintly resolvable, while Messier 44, "The Beehive" is of course one of the best binocular objects in the sky.
Going back the other way to the east, Arcturus is rising, golden and bright. Join a line to Alpha Canum Venaticorum, sweep half way along it with the binoculars, and there was my first view of Messier 3 for the year, one of the four great Spring globular clusters, Messiers 5, 13 and 92 being the others. It was glowing softly, a fuzzy unresolved circular patch, a faint star sat forever next to it.
Spring of course means the Great Bear and its companion the Hunting Dog are rising high into the sky, and this means its the start of the "La Superba" season. I found it very easily last night so I'm guessing it's near maximum, but as ever, its colour is a soft pink to my eyes and no match for the Garnet Star, Mu Cepheii.
Of course, you don't need any optical aid to enjoy the night sky! Just try and get away from streetlights, and look up.
Si
Wednesday, 18 February 2015
Tuesday, 17 February 2015
The First Buzzy Bee of 2015
Been a very pleasant morning out and about, headed out with a scarf, thick jumper and gloves on; within 50 metres I was absolutely sweltering and had to start stripping off, relatively speaking.
Birdsong. The air is full of it, with great tits being particularly strident. Every tree seems to have one of these black and yellow songsters blasting out "dee-doo-dee-doo" like a feathery ghetto blaster. Sitting on the Sconce at Rumbles Café, a pied wagtail entertained us, walking around tail bobbing in what must be a bit of a waste of energy resources, before flying off with its characteristic "peep-peep" at the top of every undulation in its flight.
Chubby robins are in song too, even if the blackbirds have not yet decided to unleash their sweet tuneage upon the world yet. But that can only be a matter of weeks, or even days.
It was actually inside Rumbles that the star of the day was found. A honey bee was up and about buzzing around the window, stirred into life by the bright warm sun. I'd been hoping to see a red admiral perhaps, fluttering by, but hadn't been expecting to come across a bee so early in the year.
Hopefully it found something to eat eventually, there are flowers in bloom here and there. But even if it perishes in the next expected cold snap the Daily Express delights in forecasting, its potency as a sign of warmer, happier times is not undimmed.
I hope the world is waking up where you are.
Si
Birdsong. The air is full of it, with great tits being particularly strident. Every tree seems to have one of these black and yellow songsters blasting out "dee-doo-dee-doo" like a feathery ghetto blaster. Sitting on the Sconce at Rumbles Café, a pied wagtail entertained us, walking around tail bobbing in what must be a bit of a waste of energy resources, before flying off with its characteristic "peep-peep" at the top of every undulation in its flight.
Chubby robins are in song too, even if the blackbirds have not yet decided to unleash their sweet tuneage upon the world yet. But that can only be a matter of weeks, or even days.
It was actually inside Rumbles that the star of the day was found. A honey bee was up and about buzzing around the window, stirred into life by the bright warm sun. I'd been hoping to see a red admiral perhaps, fluttering by, but hadn't been expecting to come across a bee so early in the year.
Hopefully it found something to eat eventually, there are flowers in bloom here and there. But even if it perishes in the next expected cold snap the Daily Express delights in forecasting, its potency as a sign of warmer, happier times is not undimmed.
I hope the world is waking up where you are.
Si
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| Buzzing in the window |
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| Trapped behind glass |
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| River Devon alder cones and catkins |
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| Beyond the tree, that blue extends to the edge of the universe |
Monday, 16 February 2015
The Early Barges are upon the Navigation
In addition to more and more spring flowers showing their charms as February goes on, other forms of warm weather life are beginning to make themselves apparent. Yesterday, there were narrowboats on the Newark Navigation, puttering along, motors churning the water and making me feel very envious of the owners of such homes. One of the barges tied up along the river even had its own cat by the look of things!
I always thing the waterway is the closest working link to this town's industrial heritage we have. The boats may be different. but they work the navigation as boats did 200 hundred hears ago or more.
Si
I always thing the waterway is the closest working link to this town's industrial heritage we have. The boats may be different. but they work the navigation as boats did 200 hundred hears ago or more.
Si
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| The old, neglected, Corn Exchange |
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| Narrowboat arrives at the lock |
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| Working boats |
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| Tugs and barges |
More Life in the Cemetery and Scary Devil Children
As I'm a very busy chap these few days, I don't have much time to do my usual dazzling writings (ha!) for you; I can only provide a pictorial of the last couple of days. Sadly I can't furnish you with pictures of my stunning bowling in the indoor nets with Newark CC - apparently "I was the best in my net" as I have told absolutely no people - but instead, Newark in late winter, just about to wake up for spring.
Enjoy, as always,
Si
Enjoy, as always,
Si
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| Castle crocuses, orange spec |
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| Castle crocuses, blue spec |
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| Ugly duckling becoming a swan, the town locks |
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| Auton invasion, Gladstone school |
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| Unhealthy looking child, this one |
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| Stumped trees, Rutland Avenue estate |
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| Going down the cemtery the wrong way |
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| First cemetery aconite |
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| Crocuses just coming into flower |
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| Snowdrops still just at their best |
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| Snowdrop carpet |
Friday, 13 February 2015
Peaceful Running, Dark as Night
I'm off shift now, and my heroic conscience likes me to take a run in the evening of my last working day...
Mr Conscience tends to forget such small points as it being cold and dark, but armed with my head torch and a desire to take pictures of the familiar after the sun had gone to bed, I headed out at 830pm hoping to run 10km.
Within three minutes, my headtorch had slipped down my my nose, and the straps pulled out of their clasp when I tried to adjust them. Great. But although I decided the cycle path and the lakes were unwise with no source of light, I was still able to run across Clay Lane park and through the Sconce with the light in my hand, and although no glowing fox, deer or badger eyes were illuminated in my path, it was still a very peaceful feeling, to be running on my own, in my own little pool of light.
There was no-one around. My thoughts were my own. All looked different.
I felt no threat. But maybe, I just got lucky...
Si
Mr Conscience tends to forget such small points as it being cold and dark, but armed with my head torch and a desire to take pictures of the familiar after the sun had gone to bed, I headed out at 830pm hoping to run 10km.
Within three minutes, my headtorch had slipped down my my nose, and the straps pulled out of their clasp when I tried to adjust them. Great. But although I decided the cycle path and the lakes were unwise with no source of light, I was still able to run across Clay Lane park and through the Sconce with the light in my hand, and although no glowing fox, deer or badger eyes were illuminated in my path, it was still a very peaceful feeling, to be running on my own, in my own little pool of light.
There was no-one around. My thoughts were my own. All looked different.
I felt no threat. But maybe, I just got lucky...
Si
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| Magnolia coming into flower |
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| Silver birch |
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| Birch in bud |
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| Ceme-tree |
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| Gravestones |
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| Close up bark |
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| Along Clay Lane |
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| Sleeping snowdrops, the forgotten nature reserve |
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| Close encounters of the Navigation Kind |
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| Willow at the Devon |
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| Sconce oak wood |
Thursday, 12 February 2015
What are your Favourite Stars?
A rather gossipy title, by my standards, but where I'm sitting at the moment, in a works canteen, there is little nature to enjoy, and the sky is the same battleship grey it has been all day. Green fields seem to emit a swampy vapour, and there is not a bird to be seen.
So, one is naturally drawn to contemplate the Universe. Well, I am, anyway.
As regular readers have probably realised, I tend to stargaze any clear night I can, either more serious sweeps with my binoculars, or a more relaxed, contemplative, naked eye observation. The night sky is endlessly fascinating to me, and I could talk of my love for Mu Cepheii, the deep red "Garnet Star" christened by Herschel or perhaps my endless hunting for the famed La Superba, Y Canum Venaticorum. This star is reputed to be the reddest thing in the entire sky, and my neck craning binocular searches are designed to prove to myself that this might be the case.
So far, I'm not convinced. The Garnet Star wins every time.
But in many ways, it is the seasons that define my life, not with any kind of Vivaldi-ish romanticism, but the rather more humdrum need to have a safe cycle to work in light conditions, without blizzard winds sweeping over roads darkly glistening with black ice. And to get to work without my agonised fingers dropping off with frostbite as if I was a foolish mountaineer.
So, it is the stars of early morning that catch my eye, the stars of summer that mark the commencement of spring when you can see them when you leave for work at 6am. So my most beloved stars are Vega, the metal blue guardian of warmer nights, and Antares, the low heart of the Scorpion, the constellation that stalks the horizon in a hopeless search for Orion placed safely by the gods on the other side of the heavens.
When I leave my home and can see both Vega, and Antares, I feel that the difficult months are over, and I will soon be chasing butterflies through the parks of Spring.
Si
So, one is naturally drawn to contemplate the Universe. Well, I am, anyway.
As regular readers have probably realised, I tend to stargaze any clear night I can, either more serious sweeps with my binoculars, or a more relaxed, contemplative, naked eye observation. The night sky is endlessly fascinating to me, and I could talk of my love for Mu Cepheii, the deep red "Garnet Star" christened by Herschel or perhaps my endless hunting for the famed La Superba, Y Canum Venaticorum. This star is reputed to be the reddest thing in the entire sky, and my neck craning binocular searches are designed to prove to myself that this might be the case.
So far, I'm not convinced. The Garnet Star wins every time.
But in many ways, it is the seasons that define my life, not with any kind of Vivaldi-ish romanticism, but the rather more humdrum need to have a safe cycle to work in light conditions, without blizzard winds sweeping over roads darkly glistening with black ice. And to get to work without my agonised fingers dropping off with frostbite as if I was a foolish mountaineer.
So, it is the stars of early morning that catch my eye, the stars of summer that mark the commencement of spring when you can see them when you leave for work at 6am. So my most beloved stars are Vega, the metal blue guardian of warmer nights, and Antares, the low heart of the Scorpion, the constellation that stalks the horizon in a hopeless search for Orion placed safely by the gods on the other side of the heavens.
When I leave my home and can see both Vega, and Antares, I feel that the difficult months are over, and I will soon be chasing butterflies through the parks of Spring.
Si
Monday, 9 February 2015
A Return to Coddington
I've not run my Coddington 10km route for a while, having betrayed my old favourite run for the feathery temptations of The Owl Road. Besides, I don't fancy the hill in good weather let alone in ice and snow, which I think it is fair enough.
Today however, was a beautiful spring day, relatively mild and a sky allowing you to see to the edge of the Universe. The fieldfares I saw at the farm by the A1 flyover were luckily not so far away, around 30 birds that were flushed from a tree as a lumbering chap on a too small BMX approached, and settled in the field on the opposite side of the road.
For some reason, the farm smelt of putrid macaroni cheese. Most unpleasant.
After a very stiff slog up that hill - two hours of cricket nets yesterday obviously taking a toll - I came into Coddington village, with yellowhammers glowing like lemons in the strong low sun in the hedges. It's good to see them, I've not seen many recently on my travels, and for some reason redwing haven't been plentiful either this winter. Normally there's redwing to be seen in the hedges as you head out of Coddington back to town, but no joy at all today.
Eventually, after convincing the staff I was mad as I ran in and out of the library to pick up a copy of the excellent "Left Lion" magazine, I completed an 11.6km route that included a 58.57 10km. Not great, but I was stopping for photos as ever, and as I said, I'm as stiff as a board!
Si
Today however, was a beautiful spring day, relatively mild and a sky allowing you to see to the edge of the Universe. The fieldfares I saw at the farm by the A1 flyover were luckily not so far away, around 30 birds that were flushed from a tree as a lumbering chap on a too small BMX approached, and settled in the field on the opposite side of the road.
For some reason, the farm smelt of putrid macaroni cheese. Most unpleasant.
After a very stiff slog up that hill - two hours of cricket nets yesterday obviously taking a toll - I came into Coddington village, with yellowhammers glowing like lemons in the strong low sun in the hedges. It's good to see them, I've not seen many recently on my travels, and for some reason redwing haven't been plentiful either this winter. Normally there's redwing to be seen in the hedges as you head out of Coddington back to town, but no joy at all today.
Eventually, after convincing the staff I was mad as I ran in and out of the library to pick up a copy of the excellent "Left Lion" magazine, I completed an 11.6km route that included a 58.57 10km. Not great, but I was stopping for photos as ever, and as I said, I'm as stiff as a board!
Si
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| The old Coddington windmill |
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| South western view from the same spot |
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| I'd be ever so fast if my legs were this long |
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| The view down Beacon Hill |
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