sliver (17/August/18)

for a brief moment an autumn sky brokered the morning, blink and you might miss it… I didn’t blink, I didn’t miss it… and then all too soon it was gone consumed in a flat summer grey, the kind of grey only summer invites to the party, the kind that doesn’t know what to do with itself so just hangs around side-kicking invisible dust, hands in pockets, hood up, blank stare, forgetting to remember… something it forgot to remember… bleeding a lack of imagination… a single swallow sieved the sky for morning vagrants… the early bird gets the… moths in their case, daddy long-legs, tiny spider who spun a single strand of silk to take them up into the jet stream but first have to run the gamut of the swallows whiskers and keen turn of speed… last evening there were dozens making the most of the usual time of day feast flitting through clouds of unwary insects… I wonder if they consider being eaten, that they might be next… regardless it’s too late when they are become bird food, largely at the mouths of swallowing swallows gulping and swooping preparing for the journey which for some will be their first and will do without a second thought the thousands of miles migration they’ve never done or seen before but will do it anyway without question… autumn’s here but keeping a low profile… for now… only giving itself away at times it thinks no one is looking or paying attention as people generally don’t, being far too busy with their own tiny worlds to bother with the much bigger one they perch upon increasingly precariously-so…… I think it wants us to know it’s there though, waiting and sometimes not waiting, patient but cutting a sliver from the hem… it sees the threadbare, the ragged robins, the early fruits ripened far too soon, lost leaves, dead-heads, it notices every nuance with the discernment of an horologist for whom the balance is to the watch what the pendulum is to the clock……

© 2018 robert greig

diseparatals (29/July/18)

ah, hello rain my old friend, you’ve come to talk to me again… maybe not welcome by all but well-needed regardless… it appears you can’t win though, when you’re not here you get blamed for drought and when you are, for flooding or ruining picnics… it’s a funny old world but then again it is populated by funny people, the dominant species they tell me, though perhaps a little deluded in such boasts considering insects, bacteria, viruses, all far more tenacious than even us for all our braggadocio and hubris… oh, how vain-glorious we bumble through life so self-assured, so up ourselves… one must be proud of ones achievements, we’re told, just to then be informed pride comes before a fall…. oh dear, oh dear, ‘tis a world of dilemmicals all over again, and just when one think they might have got things sorted, kapow!, it’s all just pots of paint hurled at a canvas….
I dreamed I was asleep, and then
I dreamed I was awake, and then
I dreamed I fell asleep, and then
I dreamed I woke up, and then
I dreamed that I had died, and then……
… increasingly I’m finding my surroundings through abstracted interest, as though being one-step removed… I’ve never really felt a part of anything and whenever I tried it always quietly failed or came crashing catastrophically down, hardly surprising I’ve become wary of this whole sense of belonging thing… there are supposed to be cords that bind us, for good apparently, but then those six degrees are defined by ‘separation’ not connection, so again, I wonder…… there is a lot of space to fill while at the same time very little, claustrophobia being all too common, and incidentally identical to agoraphobia despite belief to the contrary they are polar almost opposites… I’m enjoying the rain, for now, while at the same time worried the roof will leak… funny old world……

© 2018 robert greig

of gorse! (16/July/18)

… and another thing, Anglesey seems to have a county flower, the Spotted Rock-rose, Tuberaria guttata, which curiously is not that well-known and not everywhere here, I wonder what the value is of having a symbol for a place that hardly anyone even knows let alone has seen, irrespective of it being an attractive plant and of conservation importance, but not it seems so much cultural importance which I would think may be a more significant reason for a choice… but what is ubiquitous and evident throughout the year is one of which it is said that if there’s ever a time it’s not in flower somewhere then love is lost, so the lore goes, ’m talkin’ ‘bout Gorse, Ulex spp, like the rock-rose also yellow but there the similarities end… it boasts spiny green leaves, smells of coconut, found in hedgerows, actually even making entire hedges on its own, on dunes, in gardens, on moor, rocky outcrops and often the thinnest of soil, bog, grassland, roadside verges, it’s everywhere you turn and I’d say pretty much everyone knows what it is with perhaps the exception of people to dim to notice anything beyond their own nose…. but it’s already been proven time and time again, no one listens to me anyway…. there doesn’t seem to be a bird for the county yet and it’d probably be either brave or foolish of me to suggest one so strong and vociferous can emotions be with regard to birds, favourite or otherwise… so… call me brave or foolish, or both, because I’m risking it and nominating the Herring Gull… I hear gasps of shock, horror, disbelief!… are you mad?!… well, a bit yes, but I bet no one else has it as theirs, quite possibly because it arouses strong opinions but it’s certainly an underdog, which is a strange thing to say about a bird but ‘underbird’ just doesn’t sound right…. it’s a grossly misunderstood bird all too often blamed for our own actions and faults and probably suffers at the hands of anthropomorphism more than any other bird… perhaps less controversial choices would be the Raven or the Barn Owl, Chough though I think Cornwall’s already bagged that one, or Puffin though some where’s bound to have snaffled that one too, all for good reasons of course, perhaps a little obvious but hey, remember I am the one suggesting Herring Gull… outliers in a poll might be the Sandwich Tern though only a summer breeder, not unlike another fave of mine the rare and overlooked Black Guillemot…… there’s my mixed bag of feathers to comb over…… county mammal?.. well there aren’t many to choose from and the most we have of any are sheep though they wouldn’t fulfill the brief of not being at least a wild animal and for all there ae some bolshie sheep none are technically wild… so I’d go with Otter though, Brown Hare or Red Squirrel though I think the latter would be a disingenuous choice… what about the Rabbit?… certainly no shortage of them and like sheep, everywhere… what about a county beetle?….  ok, time to stop now………

© 2018 robert greig