Month: June 2015

Bats in The Moon

We were walking above the bay at Babbacombe tonight (writes Ian)

Just as it was getting ‘dimpsy’ several pipistrelle bats came out to play, darting and diving around our heads.

I tried filming them flying across the moon. But the sky was too dark in that direction.

‘It’s magical!’ exclaims Haze. And she was right. It was.

(Video: Ian Nisbet)

A Sea Life

Sea Life edit

The cold east wind shrieks in from the sea, and howls around the bay, whipping up nets, sails, rope-ends, cork-floats and cats!

The harbour  huddle of old houses strain against the gale, leaning landwards at a crazy angle in a desperate bid to stop from sliding into the cold dark waters of the harbour.

They have pitted their wits, held firm, stood shoulder to shoulder for a hundred years and more, as force 9 Easterlies lash the the sea walls, causing the little boats and ancient houses to strain repeatedly against these great sea storms.

A wide dark ocean stretches out beyond the Breakwater, where black sea and sky merge. Only the ‘ on-off…on-off’ flicker of the Lighthouse beam, razor sharp in the ice-cold air, slices through the gloom, blinding the sleeping gulls and guillimots half frozen on the rocky perches.

This is a work-in-progress. Haze wants to add more in the future.

Midsummer Eve Walk

We walked to the heights above the village writes Hazel. Below us, in a maze of alleyways, sat a huddle of thatch and stone enveloped by walled gardens in this ancient borough.

Climbing slopes of short grass, we found the small gap between field and wood, a narrow stoney path of red earth. We scrambled over the stile dropping onto a well worn path, our hands and bodies brushing against tall grasses, nettles and giant hemlock. Damp, rank scents of of chamomile, plantains, sorrel jumped into our nostrils at every footfall. Thickets of sloe and bramble prickled our bare shoulders as the path narrowed and twisted this way and that, at times obscured by tall trees and dense undergrowth. Above us, hung heavily scented, over blown bunches of elderflowers, longing to be picked, ready to shapeshift into sweet heady champagne.

Stopping, we  held and kissed in the silence of this wilderness, for wilderness it was. The lands around this wood, were peopled and busy, town and farmland lay within easy reach, but this small woodland, forgotten, abandoned, had remained lost, a realm of stillness, where nature kept her secrets!

The path continued to meander, occasionally splitting into two, several narrower paths led off to…who knows where? Following blindly, hands held, pausing for more kisses, we came across miniature groves of stunted trees. suddenly  aware of a hundred Faerie eyes peering at us from the deep dark thickets, hidden beneath these ancient  twisted tree roots.

Swathes of pink campion, lined the path, tangled branches of dog roses craned over us.  Invisible birds chirped noisily as dusk crept in,  the late midsummer sun slowly pondering about setting, then instantly flooding the clouds with fire.

As we suddenly left the dark wood and came out onto a clearing, a high point, above cliffs and the wide reach of the bay, the sea stretched itself out to a sharp horizon, in an awe- inspiring sweep!

Pausing again in this timeless silence, wanting to capture the moment, absorb these vistas, we moved to each other, to celebrate this midsummer eve… enfolding…. finding lips, bodies wanting, minds meeting, words not said, decisions not made, no hesitation just a bodymeld,  our spirits seeping into this beautiful land.

 The tall grasses smiled.

Sundogs or Mock Suns

Sundogs 2 editJPG

On a couple of occasions, this past week, I’ve been extremely fortunate to witness two sightings of Sundogs writes Hazel. An unusual phenomenon, seen in the skies when the Sun is low on the horizon. On the first evening, around 7pm…I noticed just the one, on the left side of the Sun, as a halo with a rainbow effect on one side of this orb, and a bluish-White tail streaming away from it. On the second evening, two Sundogs appeared, each on either side of the bright Sun.

“The distance from the Sun of both spots of light, is equivalent to the outstretched span of a hand held up at arm’s length. Sundogs are brightest when the Sun is low, and visible only when it’s below about 40 degrees from the horizon.” Gavin Pretore-Pinney.

The two I observed, lasted for about an hour on the first evening, and around 90 minutes on the second evening, constantly changing shape, fading at times, only to return to their in the multicoloured with the bluish-White tail, as the Sun began to sink towards the horizon.

As a child, I can remember my Grandfather, who was then a fisherman, pointing out to me, this strange and rather magical happening, ‘ All to do with cold winds ‘ easterlies, I think, and the possibility of rain.

Sundog left edit

Summer is here!

(I’ve tinkered with this a bit… make it feel more flowy poem like….. But its mostly the rapid riffing Hazel and I do at 7.30 in the morning!)

We are now officially summering . . .
summered . . .
summerly . . .
summerful! ….

……free to lie under nestling birdies . . .
….feeling ourselves rustle rustling . . .
murmur murmuring . . .
moment momenting . . .

…distant sounds….echo echoing …
….sunnyspun bodies..
filtered thro sparkles of lovelight..

….. windy fingers . . .enfolding….

. . leaf-lipping . . . oak-groaning . .

….. grasses on noses…between toesez…

……tremulous. . . . . thighs . . . tongues in groove . .

…..woods earthsoaked in golds

……..of gush……gggggush……gggushing……