Week 11
Gazing meaningfully at high tide
Hello!
I hope you have had a good week and thank you so much for joining in so heartily in last week’s comment section. Here in south west England the season has continued much as before. It rains, and drizzles, and squelches. Spring is clearly happening on some level, but it’s hard to find the joy of it at the moment. I believe this time last year we were suffering a spring drought as I remember taking the advice of marvellous nature writer (and almanac contributor!) Kate Bradbury, and soaked mealworms to help hydrate new bird parents and baby chicks, but they can have them dry this year I think.
This is our weekly post in which we track the seasons week by week, me in a post, and then you in the comments where I ask the question: what has made this week feel particularly ‘this week’ for you? What have you baked/seen in the shops/smelt while walking down the street/spotted in the sky that is particular to this moment in time? And then at the end of the month I collate it all into one big poem-y list of the month, done up in a fancy font.
Here’s my ‘thing particular to this week’:
High tide
There was an extremely high tide this week (as correctly predicted in The Almanac 2024, of course). Via social media I saw images of water flowering over pavements down at the docks in Bristol in the morning and me and a friend decided to go down in our wellies for the evening high tide and have a wade about. It wasn’t quite as high as the morning - I know it had been lapping up around this little harbourmaster’s hut - but this is still extraordinary and there were places where it had spilled over and we got a bit of a splash about. What this doesn’t capture is the feel of it. It really felt like you could step out over the water, and where the lights ran out at the edge of the harbour and the beginning of the Avon Gorge it was like peering into the abyss. So unlike a high tide by the seaside, it was eerie and calm and lapping. It felt like a scene from a novel, and we really should have been standing and staring mournfully.
That’s it from me!
Before the comments I just wanted to share this, which Sue, who most of you will know from her generous commenting and replying, left in last week’s comments as a ‘Living Almanac’ motto!
“And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." - William Shakespeare
Isn’t that perfect? It is wonderful to have this community of you all looking for and sharing the beauty in even these soggy weeks.
So, do leave your comments below. What have you spotted this week that felt particularly ‘this week’?
The endless rain and rare sunny spells have matched our mood and feelings this week as it’s been one of our hardest ever. Last Wednesday I was diagnosed as having breast cancer and I will start treatment very soon, followed by surgery when the tumour has shrunk. Feels like a massive blow out of the blue - but as ever the outside world is a constant joy snd my amazing family and friends are surrounding me with love, emotional support, positive thoughts and practical help. This group is very important to me snd my mental health and well being , so I wanted to share this most personal news with you - my dear and wonderful tribe of nature lovers! I guess this will become even more important to me over the next few months.
I’ve been lifted by the sight of our cherry tree- now approaching its peak of flowering.
I want to assure you I will get the best care - I have a brilliant consultant looking after me, a specialist cancer nurse at my side, and a yet to meet but equally wonderful oncologist - all at a very good Spire hospital just 20 mins drive away. My lovely Robert is my rock and our 2 kids, partners and our granddaughter are here too. So I feel surrounded by all I need. Thank you for all of your inspiring and uplifting comments every week.
It’s biblical in Glasgow, it feels like day 102 of rain here. We came back absolutely sodden from a walk yesterday, my little dog was absolutely filthy and caked in mud, her little undercarriage seemed to collect most of the mud but she was very happy! I went through 3 jackets yesterday because I got so soaked. I also noticed my hiking boots have suddenly perished which I’m sad about - Welly boot weather it is! Bored of my winter wardrobe now, I want to be able to bear an ankle and lose the winter coat and hat.