And now the Primroses

Happy Christmas to you all, I've been confined to my folk's house, happy with my new Tent, but still got out into the garden to find primrose, cyclamen and the might camellia in bloom.

Next door's youngest cat was hovering by the kitchen door, waiting for a fuss and food. Well, the fuss it was going to get.

But not the food.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature

And so the Cycle Repeats

It's December 23rd, and today I saw my first snowdrops.

I knew I would see them as well, just knew it. It's always this same clump in the cemetery that flowers first, seemingly before the new year in recent times, and I saw it on what I decided would be a long walk and combined Christmas shopping trip.

I had a click and collect order to pick up at the cupboard sized Tesco Express in Balderton, and I took the long way there. I was glad I did, because I came across a lovely bit of street art that appeared to be a drawing of a crested tit and a jay.

In the end I did 13km and got everything I needed.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 23.12.17

A Walking Accident

The robins have now started singing at night, more so than you here them during the day. In the day they are just noisy and scolding, watching each other, making sure no other robin violates their territory.

They are busy on the campus at work, and when I have a break I sometimes go out and try to photograph one. It was while following one, that I managed to impale myself on a thorn.

This in turn was not long after a cardboard eco Christmas Tree I'd set up collapsed onto my neighbour's desk, emptying a cup of coffee over a stack of important paperwork in the process. And it was before I clonked my elbow on a door frame.

If I ever visited a military base, I'd fall over and launch a nuclear apocalypse with my behind, I swear.

I'm very clumsy. Or dyspraxic, to give it the posh word. I could break a leg in a room made of cotton wool.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 21.12.17

The Subsidence of Lyricist

"He is Lyricist" it said.

He still is. But now though his paint is still bright, his home on the back of the has now reclaimed by nature as the buddleia inevitably colonises anywhere like that little triangle of brownfield site at the back of the floorists with the hot yoga studio on top.

I knew him. Know him. He'd just done his first hip hop album when the mural went up and was working in the pub where I drink. I think fatherhood kind of overtook the music, and hence Lyricist went into abeyance.

But his mural still persists, watching over the butterflies and bees as they feed in summer. It's also a Pokemon stop; it has earned a place in legend.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 20.12.17

The Alignment of Winter Solstice

I did manage to get out for two walks today, and also to conduct various bits of Christmas business, so I've been feeling a little bit better today. The warmer weather expected for today had still not arrived, and as I write, a mist is forming to ensure a tricky ride in to work in the morning.

Sunset today found the sky clear, and a strange effect took place along certain streets of Newark, as Winter Solstice approaches.

In neolithic times, the wise men of the day bought buildings and formations of stone that would align with the rising and setting of the sun, the moon, or perhaps the stars, at certain times of the year. Stonehenge is the rising of the sun at midsummer. At Newgrange the sun shines straight down the entrance to the burial chamber at midwinter. Some of the Nazca lines in Peru are reckoned to line up with the stars of Orion's belt.

Here in Newark, there are two streets aligned with the winter sun; Cartergate, where the orange glow at sunset lights up the three nail bars and four vape shops - and a Cash Converters! - and Millgate where orange rays light up the more socially acceptable housing and only the one beauty parlour.

Perhaps modern man, like his ancient coutnerpart, feels the need to line up his constructions with the forces of the universe. Perhaps it is ingrained in us.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 18.12.17

Scrap Metal and Me

So, you remember I wrote I was hoping I would be less exhausted today so could get some exercise and walking done? Well, as it turned out, I was even more exhausted today and ended up sleeping for 13 hours, and still feeling whacked after that.

I did manage to get out for a walk round the park and along the river, hoping I might find something interesting to show you. As it turned out, I did, where the Millgate bridge crosses the river, leading to Swan Island.

Someone's obviously been doing a little bit of dredging along this stretch of the river, and underneath the bridge were perched the fruits of their catch. Two bicycles, two shopping trollies, two bicycles, a scooter and various lengths of piping.

The bikes had obviously been stolen and then abandoned - this happens a lot round here - as for the trollies, who knows? Larking teenagers I suppose. Makes me wonder how none of the kids who jump off this bridge in summer have been impaled on some of this metal work and given a fatal dose of tetanus. Or anthrax!

One of the bikes was a Specialized by the looks of things - a rather expensive bit of kit to meet such a fate. The other one was rusted into anonymity, fit only for the knackers yard.

I knew how it felt.

SI

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 17.12.17

Thoughts of Flight

It's Saturday, and because it's Saturday I am exhausted.

That seems to be the law these days, a busy week at work with the usual struggle to sleep at night, and then the weekend is spent dozing on the sofa. I did get out of the house - and recorded my 10,000 steps lol - but my Christmas shopping attempt failed, and I was soon asleep on the home again.

I had a brief interlude outside in the garden, and during it the local para-power-glider whatever came over. It's always the same person, weirdly clunky little powered cockpit slung under a bright green parachute like an under-ripe banana, sailing over my part of town for a change.

Normally they fly over the Sconce Park end of town, buzzing like a sickly bee, but today, they graced me with an overflight. And as I watched, I wished instead of being trapped on the ground with this tiredness, and I could just strap on a ripening fruit with a lawnmower engine and take flight, head off into the sky to visit those places I want to.

Imagine gently rasping over the Uffington White Horse or the Rude Man of Cerne? It would be amazing. To buzz the Long Man of Wilmington! Amazing.

Yes I'm a little fixated with antiquarian stuff, I'd love to visit that part of the world. But at the moment I am just too darn tired. Hopefully tomorrow, along walk awaits. I have a route in mind...

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 16.12.17