Showing posts with label Willie Nelson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Willie Nelson. Show all posts

25 June 2025

Back to Nature

Far from the madding crowd....



Sunrise over the North Sea, streaming across the extraordinary poppy fields that this year have coated north Norfolk in waving fields of blood.  

A little while before sun rise I just caught the moon going down, a tiny bright pinprick in the sky:




And then here comes the sun, and I say, "It's alright...."






It all happens so fast.  Daylight like a rising flash, a lightning, I find it all hard to believe, so I ask a passing skylark to take my pic from above:


And then he takes a speckled stutter of spatters without me (can you trust anyone these days?):



And that was last week. 

Yes, life is racing by.  Only a few weeks ago the cowslips were like a delicately quilted coverlet spread across the countryside.  


 

Then they gradually faded, seeping into beige and pale lemony green.  And then we had the poppies, fields and fields of them, filling the air with a dozy haze in the evening air while we walked.

Today I walk from my home to the north coast, some eight and half miles along lanes and footpaths, and the poppies are pale and fringed with age, their petals bruised with the flapping winds we have had in the last few days.....




And now they are being succeeded, by hawkweeds, or hawkbits, or common cat's-ears (please excuse my inexactitude; life is too short....)




So anyway.  I've been in the city.  I've had some slightly startling speedy heartbeats, and I am glad to be back in the fresh air, walking comfortably above the ground, fluttered by butterflies:

Two ringlets exchanging greetings

I am just off the Peddars' Way, only sixteen miles north of Castle Acre,


The landscape tells human stories.  Here a dry cereal crop leads you down to a red stone farm which lies just by the old railway line from Hunstanton to Fakenham.....




Here a shady oak frames a bucolic fold of hills with, though you cannot see it, a red kite trawling for worms.....




Then we have the hedgerows and wildflowers, exchanging their bodily fluids with the insects of the air to enable life, of all sorts, to go on.  Without this, you should know, we are all doomed....  Insect sex is everything we need....


A white-tailed bumblebee on knapweed


A six-spot Burnet moth on Knapweed


A six-spot Burnet moth on field scabious


A small white butterfly on bramble flowers


John Clare wrote:

Though simple to some I delight in the sight
Of such objects that bring unto me
A picture of picturesque joy and delight
Where beauty and harmony be

Oh I love at my heart to be strolling along
Oer the heath a new impulse to find
While I hum to the wind in a ballad or song
Some fancy that starts in the mind

All seems so delightful and bring to the mind
Such quiet and beautiful joys
That the mind when its weary like hermits may find
A retreat from earths folly and noise

The Heath

John Clare



I walk on.  Every day is new.  The shift from yellow to red to brown and so on is all part of the rich weft of colour that our world, when undisturbed, offers to the wanderer.  Seasonal.  Transitional. Always changing; always developing.  I am just perplexed by the rapidity of these changes.  

Don't read anything into these musings.  I breast the hill leading down to the coast and see,  distantly but clearly, Lincolnshire to one side, and a wind farm to the other.  As far as I can see there is life.  And life only.  

The foreground is filled with asparagus ferns, from the young plants that need to mature before they are harvested.  This is where I live, now.  This is beautiful.  I am happy to share it with you.....



Time flies by
In the blink of an eye
When you get paid for having too much fun
Kicking out the foot lights
Living the night life
Like tomorrow ain't never going to come
Wouldn't change much of nothing
About this road we've been running
For of wild times, wild women, and a song
But we would've taken much better care of ourselves
If we would have known we would live this long

Live This Long

Willie Nelson 
Merle Haggard








19 January 2019

All over the world....



Dans le monde entier.....






Dans le monde entier

All over the world 
People must meet and part 
There's someone like me 
Feeling a pain in their heart


Maybe it's the time of year?  The excessive joys (?) of Christmas are behind us; the New Year already looks jaded; winter is about to crash drunkenly through the doors.....

Shorry I'm late.....

I listen to Patsy Cline singing 'Crazy' but for some reason think of Françoise Hardy....

Who knows where that connection comes from?




Van Morrison, through a glass, darkly, doesn't clear the mists.  Doesn't cut the mustard....?

Van ordinaire?

The Roman God Janus has a lot to answer for.  All this looking back, looking forward stuff.  January is his month, and this was when I was born.  Cold, and damp.  

And this month our little one has flown away  south to rift with her past, and her present,

to make a new start,




To jump start the abandoned Rolls,

Somehow,

Somewhere.....

Some may meet again 
Under that same bright star 
If maybe some night 
You come back from afar 

Who cares if tonight 
I don't know where you are?





Now that picture, from Afon Mawddach, makes me think of The Wind among the Reeds, W B Yeats....

When shall the stars be blown about the sky, 
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows, 
Far off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?



It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words.  

Is it?  What worth has a picture on its own?  If we have no words to go with it, where is the meaning?

It's the connections.  Those tiny flashing sparks that make a glow-worm put EDF Hinkley Point to shame.....







Or is that like asking for the sound of one hand clapping?  If we can see, we can all see differently.  

Red, green and blue may be the core colours of life and love, but who is to say you see what I see?

Are these poppies for remembrance?

Or do we forget?





And if we can read, we can all read differently.  

As Patsy Cline sings the words of Willie Nelson (stretched out on the deck of The  [ironically named] Victory, gasping Kiss me, Françoise....)


Worry, why do I let myself worry?
Wondering what in the world did I do?
Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you
I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying

And I'm crazy for loving you






Aaahh!  How many lovely people are there?  From Margate to Mama.... 

And what becomes of them all?








All over the world 

Others are sad tonight 
There's someone like me 
Watching the sun's fading light





Whether it's drawing out of Birmingham on a crowded train in winter......







Or driving over the Pennines in stormy summer.....






Or wandering by the Thames in early Autumn......




I wish you well, my little one.....


All over the sky 
There is the same warm glow 
Here under that star 
I'm wanting you to know 
Wherever you are 
That I still love you so


Françoise Marie Aubine Hardy /Julian More






I will be there for you,

In the Jerusalem....








Best is yet to come and babe won't that be fine
You think you've seen the sun
But you ain't seen it shine

Frank Sinatra


For SRBG