Friday 23 December 2016

Tall Cat pays a festive visit

We were worried because Lost Cat notices appeared 
on lamp posts in the neighbourhood
with Tall Cat's picture on them.
His name was Busby!
Impossible to think of him as Busby.

He'd been lost for several weeks they said 
and we hadn't seen hide nor hair of him.

I rang the number on the posters
 and discovered that this was a relatively new boy on the block
and  despite the uncanny resemblance,
could not be Tall Cat.

And then as if to reassure us,
there he was at the window again,
ready to come in and check out the Christmas tree.

In April of next year he will have been visiting for four years.
It's an odd relationship.
We still don't know his real name, but as Tall Cat
he has fans all over the world.
What would his owners think if they knew?

Thursday 8 December 2016

Winter light

Whilst I loudly lament the lights going on at 3pm,
and I do seem to mind it more each year,
there is no denying that the low sun and crisp air
have brought scenes that are never possible when the sun is high
and the nights short.

Not today though.
Today it is all murk and mizzle. 

Saturday 3 December 2016

Friday 2 December 2016

Wednesday 23 November 2016

Safely tethered

Can it really be four years since the men came to pollard the Plane trees?
But no. It isn't. 
I've checked and it seems they really are a little early.
It was April 2013.

This is why I am impervious to the cries of, 'Blogging is dead! Long live Instagram!'
My blog is my aide memoire, for a memoire that is distinctly hazy these days.
It is also a stabiliser.
A reassurance in turbulent times.
See here and anywhere here for further grounding.

Sunday 20 November 2016

Sweeping up the leaves

 In London and New York.
This last one taken by my son just before his return to the UK
with this little girl.

We can't wait.

Wednesday 9 November 2016

Overtaken by events

Of course I have dozens of pictures from our New York trip.
Parks, museums, streets, meals, family outings,
Trick or Treating, iconic buildings and bridges, wildlife,
autumn colour, quirky sights.
You can probably imagine most of them.

I should put them up, as a reminder of an intense and amazing experience,
but what with my computer struggling to upload said pictures
while Photos fights with iPhoto
and me struggling to imagine what's going to happen now,
the following is the best I can manage.
It's bathetic I know.

Big Bird takes a moment in Central Park.

Dead bird lies on a Manhattan pavement.

Tuesday 8 November 2016

Lagging behind

As we drove from JFK to our Airbnb in Brooklyn
the cab driver had the third and final debate
between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump
playing at full volume.

These are the only posters I saw.
This rally

was largely composed of Chinese Americans
at the foot of Trump Tower.
There was no getting away from it.
The prevailing mood amongst the people we met,
seemed to be that of apologetic despair.
And that, from both sides.

Saturday 15 October 2016

After Eight?

It started with a backlit Cotinus coggygria leaf
eight years ago.
I observe that my postings have declined in number year on year.
At this rate of attrition
(and I admit that my O-level maths is struggling here)
it looks as if there will be a biannual offering in 2017,
of, say, a shadow on the sand at low tide and a backlit autumn leaf,
and then a solitary smokebush leaf in 2018.

This calls for drastic action.
I must search further afield for exciting new material.

Friday 14 October 2016

The last of the ha-ha-harvest

Red cabbage - mostly snail and caterpillar.
Carrots - mostly carrot fly.
Beetroot - mostly too big and woody.

Nevertheless I have managed to extract a borscht
from these flawed ingredients.
The snails and caterpillars were spared.

I have decided to give that bed over to tulips for cutting next spring.
It's too warm to plant them yet so I must hold off
otherwise they will be mostly - Tulip fire fungus.
Even Sarah Raven has suffered from this.

Friday 7 October 2016


We are a starved society living in the midst of plenty.
Our possessions are many, our serenities few.

Laurie Lee.