Still enjoying my walkies

There's nothing like a dose of sea air for recharging the batteries, forgetting one's own woes and letting the mind breathe.

And here's a sort of relevant poem from Scotland's fine new Makar (National Poet).

FIANUIS 

By KATHLEEN JAMIE

Well, friend, we’re here again—

            sauntering the last half-mile to the land’s frayed end

to find what’s laid on for us, strewn across the turf—

gull feathers, bleached shells,

                                        a whole bull seal, bone-dry,

knackered from the rut

(we knock on his leathern head, but no one’s home).

Change, change—that’s what the terns scream

                                        down at their seaward rocks;

fleet clouds and salt kiss—

everything else is provisional,

                                        us and all our works.

I guess that’s why we like it here:

                         listen—a brief lull,

                                        a rock pipit’s seed-small notes.

“Fianuis” is from The Bonniest Company (2015) © Kathleen Jamie

Bertie presents a Nature Friday Sonnet

 

Bouncing Bertie's Sonnet no.1

A summer afternoon so blithely spent,

An amble down the coastal path to Cove,

The dog and human perfectly content,

The route a vibrant floral treasure trove.

Harebells and willowherb and meadowsweet,

And vetch, angelica and tormentil,

And thistles various, and to complete

The scene, a spotted burnet moth, quite still.

To one side, sea, for once both blue and calm,

Inland, the railway line, a train glides by,

And nearby, from the local rare breeds farm,

Some longhorn cattle languorously lie.

And up above, fine wisps of cloud, so light

And fragile – an ephemeral delight.  

        

PS from Gail: Lovers of English poetry might have noted that Bertie's Nature Friday sonnet owes a debt to one of my all time favourites, Adlestrop by Edward Thomas, a poem so evocative of the countryside in England in high summer. It was also inspired, of course, by a walk Bertie and I took on Wednesday this week, down the coast just south of Aberdeen, from Doonies Rare Breeds Farm to Cove Harbour. 

Seaside thoughts

A Contemplation

It doesn't have to be a beauty spot,
It might be somewhere just nearby,
An undistinguished stretch of North Sea coast
Where you can sit, and contemplate the sea and sky.

It matters not if you're just starting out 
On life's great journey, or you're near the end,

To stop and meditate on nature's power,

Will calm your heart, and help your sorrows mend.

Do go and take a peek at the other Nature Friday posts in the LLB Gang's evergreen blog hop. 

Nature Friday: Am I not good enough?

You know what?

I think I do a pretty good job when it comes to posing for my Nature Friday photos.

For example, yesterday Gail took me for an evening ramble around the headland at the mouth of Aberdeen Harbour. Despite a stiff sea breeze, I sat patiently, doing my bit as foreground interest to a variety of scenic shots.

Only once did my natural restlessness get the better of me, when I spotted another pup heading in my direction.

So I think you will understand why I felt a bit miffed when Gail tried to exclude me from a wee video of harebells dancing in the wind.

But don't worry. I made quite sure that my presence was heard, if not seen...



It is my blog after all, right?

Thank you once again to our dear friends Arty, Jakey and Rosy for hosting the Nature Friday blog hop. Do go and visit all the other great posts today.

Nature Friday: Sea Scene

For any of my friends who've had a too busy week - why not stop and rest a moment and sniff the sea air with me?

Worrying signs...

I guess you might be looking at the photo above and thinking that all is well with Bertie's world just now.

How wrong you would be.

Yes OK, I'll grant you, Gail did take me for a nice walk along the cliff path south of Aberdeen on Sunday afternoon and the sun was shining and the sea uncommonly blue.

But if you look closely at the photo you will perhaps spot faint clouds on the horizon...

So first of all, I might point out (and as those of you who know your geography will have already realised) my shadow in the above picture falls in a seawards direction, thus east, indicating that it was well into the afternoon when my walk took place.

Earlier in the day, Gail had, without so much as a 'by your leave, Bertie'  disappeared off on her bicycle for several hours, muttering something about needing to get in shape as her four cycling friends from the USA will be coming here a few days time.

Apparently Gail has planned a ten day tour, riding around Scotland, and I am to be abandoned to the tender mercies of neighbours Yvonne and Neil...

I shall be reporting on the arrival of the Americans in a few days time.

Gail tells me I am being wildly optimistic in hoping these fine folk will find me so inordinately cute that they will insist on fixing a dog carrier to one of their bikes and taking me along with them on the tour.

After all, I only weigh 9 kg. (That's just under 20 lb in American money...)

Beware madmen in the park....

So it's around 8 a.m. in Duthie Park and we're being treated to another spectacular sunrise, but you will just have to imagine it 'cos you know who forgot the camera.

Anyway, for the first time this year, we run into our friends George (genial human) and Darcy (lively black dog of mixed provenance). After exchanging New Year hugs, together we walk clockwise round the park. I can't tell you how confusing this is. I mean Gail and I always walk anticlockwise. What is Gail thinking in agreeing to this lunatic suggestion of George's?

Further evidence that George is not the gently spoken, agreeable and sane gentleman I had hitherto taken him for comes when my flappy little ears catch some of the conversation between him and Gail.

Oh yes, George had been visiting his son in Ullapool over the holiday period. Yes they had had a fine time, and, he mentions quite casually, as if this was something that a regular person would do, they had enjoyed the traditional New Year swim in the sea. And no, they were not wearing wet suits.

Ullapool in Winter (photo by Graham Lewis@flickr.com) 

Did I hear aright? Sea swimming? In Northern Scotland? In the middle of winter? And this George chappie doesn't even have any furs, save the snowy white ones on his head.

Really, you just don't know what sort of a person you're going to meet in the park these days. You might have been happily accepting the odd dog biscuit from them for years, and then suddenly they reveal some deeply disturbing and unsuspected character trait.

Gail thinks I am over-reacting. "It was just a swim, Bertie, some folk enjoy this sort of thing, get over it. We are not all water averse. And it isn't as if there are icebergs in Loch Broom."

My suggestion that we steer well clear of George in the future is, I fear, going to be ignored.