Dancing pixies and other delights

A sunny day enticed me out again and heading for RHS Harlow Carr Gardens seemed like a good plan. I have membership of the Royal Horticultural Society so I like to visit every few months. There's always something new to see. 

Over the years, I've taken more than a few photos of this red table and chairs, now nicely faded. It pleased me to see the shrub with its toning autumnal leaves. (Nothing happens by chance in their planting schemes... It's an education to note and enjoy their combinations of colour, texture, shape.) 

The Alpine House has an ever-changing display of tiny, pretty alpines. (I read that they bring out the different pots from elsewhere, to display when the plants are at their peak.) Lots of saxifrages this time. Loved the colour and the name of this one. 

I'm not 100% sure what the flowers below are. They reminded me of those you sometimes see dried in florists' shops, so I think they may be everlasting flowers or straw flowers, Helichrysum bracteatum. 

The little ponds in the centre of the gardens were surrounded by acers, offering splashes of colour that were doubled by the reflections. 

Some plants in the herbaceous borders were still going strong. Even as we dip down towards winter, there's still a lot to enjoy here.

Remembrance Sunday

St James Church is the parish church of Hebden Bridge, situated a little way out of the town centre. My younger granddaughter is a pupil at the primary school linked to the church. She's joined the worship group and so she was involved in the Remembrance Sunday service at the church. Later, people gathered around the town's war memorial for a short Act of Remembrance led by Rev'd Ruthi Gibbons and Rev'd Canon Major David Banbury (Ret'd).  We observed two minutes silence at 11am, as is traditional. Hebden Bridge Band played a few hymns and, after the laying of poppy wreaths, there were prayers. 

It always seems rather touching that this same act is happening in churches, cathedrals, parks and town squares all over the country at the same time, with congregations large and small. This year marks 80 years since the audacious D-Day Operation Overlord, in the Second World War, when thousands of allied troops stormed the Normandy beaches and subsequently delivered peace on the Western Front. These days, of course, we also reflect on many subsequent wars and pray for peace in the world's current trouble spots. 

Remembrance Day itself is always marked at 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month (today), which is the actual day that the Armistice was signed to end the First World War. 

After a couple of weeks of dry, mild weather, it reverted to type with a damp, drizzly and rather cold day... but then, that's usual for Remembrance Sunday and somehow it wouldn't feel right if it wasn't like that! 

The little Memorial Garden is surrounded by rather wonderful beech trees, and I enjoyed the colouring and shape of the one by the gate. 

A wet street

A sudden heavy downpour soon cleared, leaving Bingley Road awash with puddles. It's not often that I notice reflections of the shops on the tarmac. There is a particularly deep puddle right by the traffic lights, where you wait to cross the road. Those of us in the know stand well back to avoid being drenched as vehicles speed through!  

This row of buildings was originally, I believe, designed as houses with small front gardens when they were built in 1871. By the early 1900s, many of them had become shops and, together with the south side of Bingley Road (which isn't strictly part of Saltaire village), Gordon Terrace, as it's known, is now the main shopping street for the village. Among other things, it has: a Post Office, Co-op supermarket, butcher, greengrocer, bakeries, hairdressers, GP surgery, pharmacist, several charity shops, cafés, restaurants and bars. It's conveniently near my new flat, and was a significant factor in my choice to move.

The Children's Society shop in my photo is a charity shop selling only books, games and CDs. It's a real treasure trove and apparently a very successful outlet in fund-raising terms. 

 

Herons and egrets

I loved the misty softness of the light when I first arrived at Rodley Nature Reserve. From the marsh hides, there were a number of herons and egrets visible. Grey herons like the one above are fairly common around here. (There is a resident on the weir in Roberts Park.)

I've seen little egrets like the one above on the River Aire locally too, but here at Rodley there were four or five of them exploring a creek. 

In the picture below there's a little egret (black beak and legs) on the left and a great white egret on the right, which is bigger and has a yellow bill. The greats are less common in the north of England but are extending their range. 

This little egret was wading around looking for food. They are quite elegant movers.

These photos were taken at the far reach of my 18-135mm (my only) lens, which isn't really long enough for bird photography.  I do, however, like the 'birds in context' style anyway. 

The Peace of Wild Things

'When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.'

Wendell Berry: 'The Peace of Wild Things'

When I woke (really early) on Wednesday morning and switched on the TV to hear the news of the election in the USA, it was evident even then that 'the orange one' was pulling off a major comeback. I am gutted; terribly disappointed on so many levels, and not a little fearful of what it means, not only for America but for the whole world order. 

I decided I could either spend my day watching the endless analysis and become even more depressed, or treat myself to a trip out. So I hopped in the car and drove a few miles to Leeds, to the Rodley Nature Reserve. It was peaceful there, especially when I first arrived shortly after it opened and there were few other visitors, though the hides soon filled with other birdwatchers. It was a very still day, not cold, and at first there was a slight mistiness in the air, giving a softness that I really enjoyed. 

There were enough birds to make it interesting. I've rarely seen so many grey herons in one small area. There are four in my photo below and there were others around too. The small, sleeping ducks in the foreground are teal. 

I was able to identify gadwall, widgeon, shoveler ducks, mute swans, teal, mallards, lots of black-headed gulls, lapwing, moorhens, coots, little egrets, magpies, crows, various tits, robins, chaffinches and other small birds. There were some little grebes (dabchicks) diving merrily like small clockwork toys. There was one great white egret, an elegant bird that's beautiful to see. My biggest thrill came from spotting a water rail, a secretive wading bird that was skulking around in the margins of the reeds. I think I've only ever seen one once before. In the garden where they have seed feeders I enjoyed watching several pairs of bullfinches, again a bird that I rarely see but very lovely with a black head, grey wings with black and white markings and a bright pink breast (though the females are paler). 

Many of the leaves have fallen now, and there are few flowers left. These large white umbellifers stood out. No idea on the exact plant; they're all fairly similar to my eye. 

The teasel's spiky seedheads provide winter food for small birds like goldfinches - and were once, apparently, used in the textile trade to 'tease' or raise the nap on woollen cloth. I’ve noticed that National Trust properties often lay them on chairs that they don’t want visitors to sit on. Useful plants! 

Anyway, I enjoyed my trip out and it did, at least, stop me from doom-scrolling all day! 

Diwali garden lights

It wasn't only the inside of East Riddlesden Hall that was decorated and lit for Diwali. The gardens had floodlights, lanterns and strings of white LEDs looped in the trees, with rows of tea lights along the paths. It was all rather magical. 

 

Diwali

I noticed that our local National Trust (NT) property, East Riddlesden Hall, was putting on a special display to celebrate Diwali, the Indian Festival of Lights. With religious significance for Hindus and several other faiths, it gets its name from the clay lights that people put around their homes for the festival, symbolising the inner light that protects from spiritual darkness, the triumph of good over evil. The Sanskrit word dīpāvali means 'a row or series of lights'.  

Homes are decorated with patterns called rangoli, using coloured powder, sand or - as here - brightly coloured pompoms.  

The Hindu festival is associated with Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity. I believe the little statue here represents the Goddess, surrounded by Diya lamps, their clay holders made by local schoolchildren. 

I must confess to knowing very little about the festival, though I know it is celebrated by our local Hindu communities with feasting and fireworks. It was good to see the NT getting into the spirit of things, in collaboration with various local Hindu community groups.  

As the nights draw in and winter encroaches, I felt it was fitting to go and enjoy the lights - and to see East Riddlesden Hall with a different look. It's not normally open at night.

Peak autumn

I think we've just about reached peak autumn here, judging by the scenes at Bolton Abbey at the weekend. There are as many leaves on the ground now as there are left in the trees. The colours have turned out to be surprisingly good, after a slow start. 

One of the things I had not expected when I moved house was to be gifted a new group of girlfriends. Many of the folk in the apartments in my block are quite frail and elderly. Some I've never seen at all, some I only see when they walk slowly round the grounds or take their rubbish to the bins. Everyone is friendly and I feel I'm beginning to get to know people, just from the brief chats we have in passing. There are, however, a handful of younger folk of my kind of age ('younger' being a relative term, given I'm in my early 70s!) and they have very kindly invited me into their friendship group. As I say, that's unexpected but very heartwarming. Thus it was that four of us took a trip out to Bolton Abbey for a walk and lunch, which was most enjoyable. It's surprising how easily and quickly 5+ miles (11000 steps, according to my phone app) pass when you're busy chatting! I didn't even stop to take many photos. These were just snaps on my phone. 

My new pet!

I opened the kitchen blind one morning recently to find this snail halfway down the window (outside thankfully!) Yuck. Given that I live in a first floor flat, that is some adventure he is having. I put his picture on our community Whats App group, asking if anyone had lost their pet snail. It occasioned a series of hilarious replies, including two short and very clever poems... but no-one claimed it. So I guess it's mine to keep - except that it had disappeared by the time I got home from my day out, leaving only a smeary trail of goo. The next question is whether the window cleaners will ever clean that off! They only spray the windows from the ground, which never seems terribly effective at the best of times. 

Farewell to Normandie

After being on display in Salt's Mill's roof space for most of the past two years, the exhibition of David Hockney's huge artwork 'A Year in Normandie' closes today. I'm not sure whether it will be dismantled or 'mothballed' for opening again at some future date. I went along to bid farewell. It is really rather special. 

Made up of prints from 220 iPad pieces Hockney created in 2020, while he was spending the pandemic lockdown in Normandy, it records the changing seasons around his French garden. Influenced by Chinese scrolls and the Bayeux Tapestry, Hockney's intent is that the viewer will walk past it and experience in one picture a whole year in Normandy.  It's quite intriguing. I watched a short video about its creation. Not that I could hear it (no subtitles for the deaf, tch tch) but it showed Hockney out in his garden making sketches and ink drawings, then experimenting on his iPad. 

This section reminded me of a song that I was once fond of, by Harry Chapin, called 'Flowers are Red', about a child whose teachers tell him off for painting things the 'wrong' colours. Hockney thinks tree trunks are purple... Who am I to argue? 

I wonder what delights will come to Salts Mill next? They have some great exhibitions and, if it's Hockney you want to see, there is a large permanent collection of his work here. (He grew up in Bradford, went to art college here and was a friend of Jonathan Silver, who rescued the Mill from dereliction and developed it into the world class attraction that it now is.)

Happy and glorious

Another glorious autumn day in Saltaire... The spells of warm sunshine are not consistent. They have been interspersed with really dull, damp, often foggy days. When it's like this though, I make the most of it with a good walk at some point in the day. There is still half a mile of canal towpath to enjoy despite the closures, and there were a a fair few boats cruising at the weekend. Such days make me very happy. 

It was busier than it looks and I bumped into a close friend along the way, so that was particularly cheering. I've also started chatting lately to an elderly gentleman whom I see frequently along the towpath. He always carries a litter-picker and a carrier bag, picking up rubbish as he walks. My walk times seemed often to coincide with his but then, for about a month, I didn't see him and I started to worry that something had happened to him. It was something of a relief to spot him again. His name is Eddie, and he's a star, a local treasure. 

Acer explosion

Another from Thorp Perrow. The acers were a stunning colour, seemingly a darker red than sometimes I've seen them. One or two of them were against a background that was uncluttered enough to try a 'Pep Ventosa' effect (basically several photos taken from different viewpoints, layered and blended to create one composite). Some people can create these in camera using blended multi exposures but my camera won't do that so I do mine in Photoshop. It produces a very similar effect, either way.