Unsteady on land.
Sea swells infect ear canals.
And voices of gulls.
Tuesday 31 May 2016
Vortices thrown West by continental low
Three views of the bay before, having established a safe entry, we decided that the haven would not be comfortable in a Northerly. Even in the morning (forecast 3 to 4) we found ourselves making no progress on a starboard tack to the West; leeway took us South of 270 degrees and close to shingle before we found out and tacked back away from wrecking.
Waiting out the swell in harbour at lunch we ate and walked gently, feeling still the rocking motion of the boat on dry land. In shelter the day was warm and peaceful, but we had to return to the quay's banshee wailing from yacht rigging in wind. No respite on the anemometer and none forecast, so we sailed anyway for home.
Avoiding an incoming vessel, then waiting for the ferry to move off on engine, we swayed and bucked a little in a heady force 5. Second reef in and half the genoa set I aimed North on a starboard tack, knowing that the rising tide would cancel the leeway and allow us to progress back North. We dipped and swung, tasting and feeling spray when waves' slap threw the sea over. Even in the dampness the wind remained warm; at least not cold.
From half way, she turned up in gusts, forcing the tiller up to my ribs to hold off. Wind moved upto 30 degrees with these gusts, making balance difficult. Most of the way across and with the flow of tide reducing we tacked towards the first marks of the river entrance, but the Northerly kept us back; the contents of the saloon table fell off. Closer now, we tacked again, but without the flow were left moving near West and the gusts of six started to look more like seven. Finally a gust veered too far and blew the bow away as we lost speed and heeled. Enough. Letting the canvas go we started engine for the last three quarter mile to the river mouth and back to our lake.
On this Northerly shore the waves were attenuated and close to land the wind ameliorated. None the less mooring at the first attempt was a relief. Most remaining sailers had sails furled, skimming shores to minimise the waves. Maybe half a dozen souls braver (or further from home) than us. Nice to be out on a bank holiday without the usual crowding though.
Waiting out the swell in harbour at lunch we ate and walked gently, feeling still the rocking motion of the boat on dry land. In shelter the day was warm and peaceful, but we had to return to the quay's banshee wailing from yacht rigging in wind. No respite on the anemometer and none forecast, so we sailed anyway for home.
Avoiding an incoming vessel, then waiting for the ferry to move off on engine, we swayed and bucked a little in a heady force 5. Second reef in and half the genoa set I aimed North on a starboard tack, knowing that the rising tide would cancel the leeway and allow us to progress back North. We dipped and swung, tasting and feeling spray when waves' slap threw the sea over. Even in the dampness the wind remained warm; at least not cold.
From half way, she turned up in gusts, forcing the tiller up to my ribs to hold off. Wind moved upto 30 degrees with these gusts, making balance difficult. Most of the way across and with the flow of tide reducing we tacked towards the first marks of the river entrance, but the Northerly kept us back; the contents of the saloon table fell off. Closer now, we tacked again, but without the flow were left moving near West and the gusts of six started to look more like seven. Finally a gust veered too far and blew the bow away as we lost speed and heeled. Enough. Letting the canvas go we started engine for the last three quarter mile to the river mouth and back to our lake.
On this Northerly shore the waves were attenuated and close to land the wind ameliorated. None the less mooring at the first attempt was a relief. Most remaining sailers had sails furled, skimming shores to minimise the waves. Maybe half a dozen souls braver (or further from home) than us. Nice to be out on a bank holiday without the usual crowding though.
Tuesday 24 May 2016
Candy colour scene
Out, following my feet while the sun was still up, but softening. A road through the parkland of an old estate, fringed by fields with domestic beasts. Ponies (joined by a dozen fallow deer); a tumbling pool of lambs curious at a gate while their Mums munched on rich meadow grass; distant cows chewing in a corner.
Mostly black's and chaffinch in the birdscape and commoners' ponies on the return. The sun was sinking now. Clusters of cloud covered much of the sky but still held onto their individuality, showing strong contrasts from grey and white to blue creeping between.
The sun sank to orange, interfering with a treed horizon, under-lighting the clouds; touching the inverted peaks with a pale orange brush. The far cloud edge thinned towards the sun, pushing out filaments that caught the colour. Edge lit the folds of vapour glowed like translucent marble.
Fading light reduced the colour palette, but highlighted whites; the hedgerow may, the pale garden rhododendrons. Almost back, keeping to roads now to avoid the mud.
Mostly black's and chaffinch in the birdscape and commoners' ponies on the return. The sun was sinking now. Clusters of cloud covered much of the sky but still held onto their individuality, showing strong contrasts from grey and white to blue creeping between.
The sun sank to orange, interfering with a treed horizon, under-lighting the clouds; touching the inverted peaks with a pale orange brush. The far cloud edge thinned towards the sun, pushing out filaments that caught the colour. Edge lit the folds of vapour glowed like translucent marble.
Fading light reduced the colour palette, but highlighted whites; the hedgerow may, the pale garden rhododendrons. Almost back, keeping to roads now to avoid the mud.
Monday 23 May 2016
Equine in contrast
Stark sun casting strong shadows bounced off the lawn (already growing out of its recent trim), off the pink/white apple blossom coating tree and grass equally, illuminating a bird unevenly on a low bough. Black above apparently and pale below, but, obviously by habit, robin. He/she bobbed, pushed beak skywards, sang.
Further North, driving, that same silhouetting light blackened a heath's beasts and gorse clumps equally, blurring them together at similar heights and morphology. We imagine horses, hungry, nibble gorse for nourishment, but from a quarter mile away, struggling to tell herbivore from herbaceous, I wonder if they don't amuse themselves in the long winters with topiary.
Further North, driving, that same silhouetting light blackened a heath's beasts and gorse clumps equally, blurring them together at similar heights and morphology. We imagine horses, hungry, nibble gorse for nourishment, but from a quarter mile away, struggling to tell herbivore from herbaceous, I wonder if they don't amuse themselves in the long winters with topiary.
Saturday 21 May 2016
Lightly stretched spring
I stepped out into mizzle on Thursday evening; not remembering, until I opened the front door, that the forecast had been for rain later. I was fully prepared for whichever way the weather might go; dressed up in my scarf, so I barely hesitated to the gate and right.
The moisture in the air was too heavy for mist and, anyway, left the atmosphere mostly transparent. I sucked in a lung-full through my open mouth, hoping to taste it. Whatever flavour there was was too illusive for such an experiment, although I thought much later that I tasted the droplets off my lip, polluted by then by my face I expect.
Dampness was soaking into the scenery and, slowly, my clothes and hair, but the temperature was mild enough that this caused no discomfort with the light exercise of the walk. Under overhanging trees occasional drips fell. My feet found a common path suited to the conditions and my footwear (not chosen for mud).
Few people showed willing to share the conditions. A half dozen cyclists, cheerfully coupled and heads up, smiling; a couple of dog walkers, retractable leads at full stretch; two cars I think once I returned to a road. At the Southerly extent I thought for a moment that the jackdaws had found me again, but then realised that this black flock in the mist were cawing and not chiming; rooks I suppose. Sparse ponies on the lawns, but no foals in near view. I stopped to look at a fallen beech branch - rotted through, but still with green leaves despite the bubbling fungus on the bark. Wreckage around this branch (all of 35 feet long) showed the efforts used to remove it from the adjacent road to the opposite side from its parent tree.
Against expectation, the precipitation reduced slowly in the three quarter hour I walked. The clearing air revealed 80 percent cloud cover and the moon and a few other heavenly bodies clearly glowing. Unsettled conditions are expected to persist, but the wind from the South-West makes it bearable, even pleasant.
The moisture in the air was too heavy for mist and, anyway, left the atmosphere mostly transparent. I sucked in a lung-full through my open mouth, hoping to taste it. Whatever flavour there was was too illusive for such an experiment, although I thought much later that I tasted the droplets off my lip, polluted by then by my face I expect.
Dampness was soaking into the scenery and, slowly, my clothes and hair, but the temperature was mild enough that this caused no discomfort with the light exercise of the walk. Under overhanging trees occasional drips fell. My feet found a common path suited to the conditions and my footwear (not chosen for mud).
Few people showed willing to share the conditions. A half dozen cyclists, cheerfully coupled and heads up, smiling; a couple of dog walkers, retractable leads at full stretch; two cars I think once I returned to a road. At the Southerly extent I thought for a moment that the jackdaws had found me again, but then realised that this black flock in the mist were cawing and not chiming; rooks I suppose. Sparse ponies on the lawns, but no foals in near view. I stopped to look at a fallen beech branch - rotted through, but still with green leaves despite the bubbling fungus on the bark. Wreckage around this branch (all of 35 feet long) showed the efforts used to remove it from the adjacent road to the opposite side from its parent tree.
Against expectation, the precipitation reduced slowly in the three quarter hour I walked. The clearing air revealed 80 percent cloud cover and the moon and a few other heavenly bodies clearly glowing. Unsettled conditions are expected to persist, but the wind from the South-West makes it bearable, even pleasant.
Wednesday 18 May 2016
A rumble before the storm.
Friday 13th began with me dragging a clean cup off the shelf of an eye-level kitchen cabinet with a sticking plaster I'd applied to protect my shattered left thumb nail that had caught the inside of the mug's handle as I placed it. I didn't have time to grab for for the mug before its fall was deflected by a stack of silicone baking sheets piled on top of the bread-maker. The mug flipped over one whole turn in the air and landed securely and perpendicular in the centre of a flower pot next to the draining-board. The plant was fine, the mug lightly soiled.
The weather broke today, ending two weeks of warm and largely sunny days. We sailed again, last weekend; Sunday tacking and running with the tides of the Needles Channel in a force 4. Saturday's second cut of the lawn was just in time to smooth the sward ready to catch the first drizzle of apple petals.
The weather broke today, ending two weeks of warm and largely sunny days. We sailed again, last weekend; Sunday tacking and running with the tides of the Needles Channel in a force 4. Saturday's second cut of the lawn was just in time to smooth the sward ready to catch the first drizzle of apple petals.
Monday 9 May 2016
mowing on
After an overcast day with brief flashes of sun, another light sprinkle of rain has fallen, greasing the pavements and releasing the odours of damp spring. The thickening crowns of the overhanging trees shade pools of dryness and clinging clouds of perfume from blossoms.
The sky is patched, grey tones of Mrs Havisham's gown with a hint of wrinkled cream silk to the South; not threatening more rain yet, but warning of coming darkness. The people I see about are relaxed, in couples or cycling with smiles. Members of the thrush family call, but fall short of song. On my return path I meet the jackdaw flock again, going the other way.
Eleven boxes of cuttings, including all of the proud dandelions, left just grass, moss and an occasional daisy and speedwell. My lawn has been busy since being cut a week since. Jackdaws and starlings decorate it and blackbirds squabble. A brooding robin visits, neatly picking off insects from the low apple boughs, chiffchaffs inspected all the lentern rose blooms thoroughly. I saw today, flapping and turning above the hill between Romsey and Forest, red kite; first of the year.
First brimstone was a couple of weeks ago, but I saw a smaller pale butterfly several times before that - orange tip perhaps? Two large and dark butterflies overflew the boat at the weekend, probably peacock.
The time of the horse chestnut approaches. Their canopies are near full and fresh green; candles set, but not quite lit yet.
The sky is patched, grey tones of Mrs Havisham's gown with a hint of wrinkled cream silk to the South; not threatening more rain yet, but warning of coming darkness. The people I see about are relaxed, in couples or cycling with smiles. Members of the thrush family call, but fall short of song. On my return path I meet the jackdaw flock again, going the other way.
Eleven boxes of cuttings, including all of the proud dandelions, left just grass, moss and an occasional daisy and speedwell. My lawn has been busy since being cut a week since. Jackdaws and starlings decorate it and blackbirds squabble. A brooding robin visits, neatly picking off insects from the low apple boughs, chiffchaffs inspected all the lentern rose blooms thoroughly. I saw today, flapping and turning above the hill between Romsey and Forest, red kite; first of the year.
First brimstone was a couple of weeks ago, but I saw a smaller pale butterfly several times before that - orange tip perhaps? Two large and dark butterflies overflew the boat at the weekend, probably peacock.
The time of the horse chestnut approaches. Their canopies are near full and fresh green; candles set, but not quite lit yet.
Hardly a tack
Frustration with the weather and illness that has kept us on land since Easter was finally resolved with a couple of balmy sails at the weekend. Only about 25 miles in total, but the winds were too light to get further.
The Solent was variably busy, but never frantic. Just enough other folk around to feel companionable and keep the radio awake with chatter (There seemed to be a strong correlation between calling MayDay and being French on Saturday). Sunday afternoon, just as we were returning to our tidal mooring and the wind was about to get more interesting, things quietened down and from Wight to mainland, wide pools of sea were sailless.
It was a weekend of warm sunshine, and occasional cooler Easterly breeze and extreme spring tides. Seabirds, evicted by rising water from their roosts on the marshes, were taking advantage of any dry spot to rest away from danger. The orange mooring buoys have suffered their attention. Fortunately the boats are less attractive to these gulls and the pipits that roosted on our yacht last year don't seem to have moved in yet.
The Solent was variably busy, but never frantic. Just enough other folk around to feel companionable and keep the radio awake with chatter (There seemed to be a strong correlation between calling MayDay and being French on Saturday). Sunday afternoon, just as we were returning to our tidal mooring and the wind was about to get more interesting, things quietened down and from Wight to mainland, wide pools of sea were sailless.
It was a weekend of warm sunshine, and occasional cooler Easterly breeze and extreme spring tides. Seabirds, evicted by rising water from their roosts on the marshes, were taking advantage of any dry spot to rest away from danger. The orange mooring buoys have suffered their attention. Fortunately the boats are less attractive to these gulls and the pipits that roosted on our yacht last year don't seem to have moved in yet.
another proposition
Saturday, at 10pm, I went in search of supper. The last three slices of the morning's fruit-loaf looked good, so I stuck a pair together with butter. The butter was soft; the butter was spreadable. It may only be a couple of weeks into spring, but that is what we call summer.
Friday 6 May 2016
Emerald and other hues
Each flower-tipped, terminal twig now sports a stand of miniature, pale green folded leaves, on the custard maple. I've observed it closely these past two weeks as the flush of blooms has swept over it, only surpassed by leaves this morning as the weather balmed and calmed.
Further on, curled and fluffed, the first foal lay, too shy yet to greet me. Its mother seemed a little unfussed, munching a few yards distant with her friend. I went back this afternoon to see the foal standing, all knees and nose.
The warmth resolved later to rumble in the Solent, but too distant to shock us.
Further on, curled and fluffed, the first foal lay, too shy yet to greet me. Its mother seemed a little unfussed, munching a few yards distant with her friend. I went back this afternoon to see the foal standing, all knees and nose.
The warmth resolved later to rumble in the Solent, but too distant to shock us.
Tuesday 3 May 2016
Make way for exposed teeth
I fancied to see the developing spring this morning so selected the longer route to work. It truely was spring city Arizona, but once on the road, and pushed very gently by a BMW as I left the village, I got into a driving mood and enjoyed the sweep of linked corners through woodland. Everything kept out of the way. No metal, polymer and ceramic composites put their vulcanised tree spit in my way. The feathery things flew away; the fluffy critters were up the trees and the hairy beast kept their chewing to the verges and heaths; not sunbathing in the road. Squirrels I salute you.
Of course I pay the price; 20% on the fuel consumption of a more reflective commute.
Of course I pay the price; 20% on the fuel consumption of a more reflective commute.
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