World Early Stroll Day 88
If you like to be read to click here for the listening link.
This morning the air carries the essence of silage. It is warm and uplifted by floral scents.
Alt text suggests this week’s photo could be a purple ball on a gravel surface. I say it is a deflating balloon which I saw at the end of my early morning stroll on Saturday morning. I don’t always go for a stroll on a Saturday morning, but I remembered that it was ‘World Early Stroll Day’ and I was keen to find out what I would see in the new day. There was a thunderstorm as I was waking up, the claps of thunder were loud cracking booms and the rain was heavy, so I waited for all that to end before venturing out. Work in our road is being carried out to replace the gas pipes so the smell of gas infused clay was hanging thick in the humid air and my photo journey captured that work at first. I enjoyed ignoring the red light of the traffic light outside my house and walking on past it. I also found much to interest me in the lines and shadows of the holes that had been dug, but found myself beginning to wish for something different and colourful. Just as I was wondering whether to veer off to see if I could find flowers, I saw the balloon. It looked like it was having a rest after being well loved. There was a gentle poignancy to this thought that made me smile.
Here's the montage I put together for the invitation from Andrew Brooks and Ian Macmillan for people to share their early morning strolls. (Traffic lights on red against a blue sky. A purple balloon on the pavement. A hole in the road to expose the gas pipe. A wonky No Smoking sign. Another hole in the ground where the deep rainwater reflects the shadow of the barriers.)
I enjoyed looking at all the different early morning strolls that were being shared on social media. I love the tingle of the joy of early mornings and the fresh potential of a new day. Sometimes when I feel I haven’t seized the opportunity to note it or celebrate it in some way my heart sinks a little. There is an enjoyment to looking back on a day or period in time and reflecting on things that I am grateful for, but the feeling of looking forward is a hopeful kind of joy that shines in a different way.
On Saturday morning as well as my stroll I had treated myself to a ticket for the ‘Badger Saturday’ writing workshop with Clare Shaw and Miriam Darlington. I already had a lovely little kenning dedicated to badgers which I wrote in a workshop with Angela Topping, and I was keen to extend my knowledge and use the time to write what I was calling in my head ‘a full-on, solid badger poem’. That poem is emerging, it is indeed solid, and I look forward to spending time editing it into a finished piece.
Curiosity led me back to my driving to work tweets this week to see what was set down as my record of travelling to work in lockdown. Some of the snippets of writing from that time evolved into poems and I was pleased to see that I had kept all of the original notes as a reminder and a set of snapshots. My first one was short and seems to have focused very much on colour: “Orange and pink sunrise and a Rupert scarf.” The more I wrote, the more I observed, and I found myself tuning into the subtle changing of seasons and the passing of time.
You can listen to a set of poems that arose from these thoughts on my YouTube Channel if you like such things. Driving to Work January 2023 to March 2023.
Here's a poem that arose from my early morning observations in June 2023:
Friday 23rd June 2023
The herbed air is a tonic for my lungs,
a black sandbag an obedient dog
waiting for its owner.
And then,
just when it seemed the thought of her gone
was balancing,
on the central reservation
a white and ginger cat
suddenly a gymnast
frozen in time.
Comments
Post a Comment