Out to Torquay Harbour. It’s the last day of 2016.
Let’s send out a message of hope and good cheer from Haldon Pier.
But the sea is too calm, and the tide too coming in.
Today will not be the day.
Our message in a bottle will have to wait until next year.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
A walk up onto the cliffs above Babbacombe to collect some Xmas greenery.
A solitary crow watched us as we went.
Two squirrels were bouncing about in the little hawthorn, nibbling away at the red berries, enjoying a good pre-Xmas feast.
Unseasonably warm. Hardly felt like winter at all.
Words & Vid: Ian Nisbet
Would there being anything in Tessier Garden this rainy Saturday afternoon to observe and write down in our little notebooks? Well there were the spots in that umbrella……
“You hold it!”
“No, I’ll hold it !”
“Getting wet !!”
“Can’t see a thing!”
The kind of rain
That wets you through.
The wind that drives these drops.
The kind of rain…….
Is the rain kind?
A wet bench with wet
Trees dripping huge drops.
“I’m wet! ”
“I’ll hold it !”
“No I’ll hold it !”
“Let’s get under it …TOGETHER!”
The rain… Is kind!.
Picture & Poem: Hazel Brown
Starlings in the silver birch outside my kitchen window, dancing about in sparkly flitters. I haven’t speeded up any of these clips; they restlessly race about, fidgeting, flittering, in constant too and fro.
I filmed starlings in this silver birch 2 years ago. And they were jumping about just as much then; clinging onto the birch as it (she) was being battered by high winds.
But this is a calmer, quieter, tree. So you can more clearly hear these starlings chitter chattering with one another in this film.
I’d like to meet this slimy gentleman next year
Or this raisin eyed cutey flopped out on a rock
If we’re near an estuary we’ll probably see
Or this could be hiding on Dawlish Warren
I’m hoping we’ll see more speeding across Lyme Bay. And one day this magnificent chap will come soaring and swooping over the cliffs on the Downs again.
If we’re anywhere near Maidencombe these vulnerable little are awaiting to delight and disarm the senses.
There are bound to be many jelly swelling the shores come summer.
A flypast by a squadron of would be most thrilling.
If this were ever to happen up above us we’d be hopping about like Chris Packbum on ecstasy.
If we got near enough to see a wild one of these I could die elated.
Staying in the wood we might see this
Rigging up a lightbox in the back garden could reveal this beauty. The one marvel I’d like to witness more than anything is more of these light-filled
metamorphosing before our very eyes – to take our breath away.
A rebreathing of a little poem Haze wrote in May 2015
The echo of your breath
Is here in my room.
Light liquid tenderness flows
Through my heart
The touch of your fingers
Breaks upon my skin
Threads of honeyed kisses
Will fly on the cold night air
From my soft lips to yours
Your soul has woven itself
Into my hair.
Poem & Picture: Hazel Brown (4 Dec 2016)