Showing posts with label seasons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seasons. Show all posts

Wednesday, 1 November 2023

NO MATTER


I first read this verse by the nineteenth-century poet Thomas Hood when I was, maybe, 10 or 11, and although I probably didn't completely understand the meaning of all the lines, I still remember the absolute, pure delight that was awaiting me in last one...

NO!

No sun—no moon!
No morn—no noon—
No dawn—
No sky—no earthly view—
No distance looking blue—
No road—no street—no "t'other side the way"—
No end to any Row—
No indications where the Crescents go—
No top to any steeple—
No recognitions of familiar people—
No courtesies for showing 'em—
No knowing 'em!
No traveling at all—no locomotion,
No inkling of the way—no notion—
"No go"—by land or ocean—
No mail—no post—
No news from any foreign coast—
No park—no ring—no afternoon gentility—
No company—no nobility—
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
November!

– Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

Today, the poem is often presented in a considerably edited-down form and is invariable given the title 'November', which pretty much demolishes the punchline!

[Photo: Brian Sibley]

Wednesday, 6 October 2010

SUMMER MEMORY

Summer is well and truly over. Skies are grey, the leaves are turning, the days are getting shorter and the nights are getting colder. And yet, only a couple of weeks ago, sitting in the sun in Russell Square, it felt as if it might go on forever...

Now for me - and for this young water-sprite - it is already nothing but a memory...

Water-sprite

Image: Brian Sibley © 2010

You can view more of my photographs on my flickr photostream

Sunday, 1 March 2009

SPRING IS SPRUNG

Yesterday - which, according to the meteorologists (and we all know how much they know) was the last day of Winter - Sue and Andy in Greece - where it's not much warmer than it is here - sent me this photo of their first (and newly hatched) chick. This little bird seemed to me to be chirping an endorsement of the poet Shelley's question "can spring be far behind...?"

However, I have to confess, I'm a little confused.

You see, while the aforementioned meteorologists categorise today as the first day of spring, according to the astronomical definition spring doesn't actually arrive until the Venal Equinox which, this year, falls on March 20th.

So, if winter ended yesterday and spring doesn't really arrive until the 20th, what are the next nineteen days supposed to be?

SPRINTER
, perhaps... Depending, I guess, on how fast they go by...

Image: Sue & Andy Stokes © 2009

Thursday, 25 December 2008

DECEMBER THE TWENTY-FIFTH


It's Christmas Day
in the Morning...



...and we're just back from the Basilica San Marco, where the faithful were celebrating the first Mass of Christmas. Visit the Cathedral when it is unlit and you might consider it nothing more than a grey, dusty mausoleum, but when illuminated - as it was tonight - it is flooded with a breathtaking golden radiance...


It is, perhaps, the nearest experience to being inside light: warm, reassuring, womb-like; a cradle in which we - together with the new born Christ Child are gently rocked to and fro within the golden heart of an ancient Faith - beating, pulsating across the centuries...

***

Now, what kind of greeting should I send you on this very special day?

Well, I think what would be appropriate would be to quote one of the lyrics written by LESLIE BRICUSSE for the 1970 film...


Bricusse wrote the song, 'December the Twenty-Fifth', for the scene featuring Fezziwig's Ball, in which Ebenezer Scrooge relives the Christmas jollifications that he enjoyed as a young man before he became - as Charles Dickens describes him - "a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!"


The song is sung by Scrooge's former employer, Mr Benjamin Fezziwig, his wife, family and guests and - although written by a later hand - is truly the embodiment of the seasonal spirit which Dickens was attempting to invoke in writing A Christmas Carol...

Of all the days in all the year
That I'm familiar with
There's only one that's really fun
December the twenty-fifth!

Ask anyone called Robinson
Or Brown, or Jones, or Smith,
Their favorite day and they will say
December the twenty-fifth!

December the twenty-fifth, m'dears
December the twenty-fifth
The dearest day in all the year
December the twenty-fifth!

At times we're glad to see the back
Of all our kin and kith
But there's a date we celebrate
December the twenty-fifth!

At times our friends may seem to be
Devoid of wit and pith
But all of us are humorous
December the twenty-fifth!

December the twenty-fifth m'dears
December the twenty-fifth
The dearest day in all the year
December the twenty-fifth!


And now, before you set about your own festivities, enjoy the original film rendition of 'December the Twenty-Fifth' as it was energetically performed by Laurence Naismith and Kay Walsh as Mr and Mrs Fezziwig, throwing themselves into the spirit of the day with total abandonment whilst being observed by Albert Finney as Ebenezer Scrooge and Edith Evans as The Ghost of Christmas Past...




So, from David, buttons and myself may we wish You and Yours...


A Very, Very
HAPPY CHRISTMAS
m'dears!

***

Images: San Marco on Christmas Eve © Brian Sibley; Title-cards from Scrooge by Ronald Searle. You can see more of Searle's artwork for Scrooge and Dickens' A Christmas Carol at Perpetua - Ronald Searle Tribute.

And buttons offers his own seasonal greeting here.

For more Venice imagery, visit my website to view the album Venice Observed and then follow the links at the foot of that page to three further albums of photographs.

Wednesday, 9 January 2008

HIGH RESOLUTION


We are back...

Leaving the fantastical dream-realm of the Serenissima for the harsh reality of the Everyday Life in London.

Nine days into the New Year is, I guess, a tad late to offer best wishes for the remaining 358, but better late than never.

Being frail creatures, we habitually begin each new year (despite its utter arbitrariness) with blithe hopes and wistful expectations. So, whatever you may be hoping, wishing or praying for in 2008: may you find or receive those things or else be given the courage and resolve to make do with whatever does happen to come your way...

And I'll close this first blog of the year with a thought-provoking thought from G K Chesterton:

The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year.

It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes.

Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions.

Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective.

Unless a man starts on the strange assumption that he has never existed before, it is quite certain that he will never exist afterwards.

Unless a man be born again, he shall by no means enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.


Image: © Brian Sibley, 2008

Wednesday, 12 December 2007

NOT-SO-WILD OATS

Here in the UK, right now, it's pretty damn chilly (0 degrees last evening in Greenwich) and so I've taken to reaching for the packet of instant porridge-oats in the belief (ingrained from a lifetime of seeing Readybrek commercials) that it will give me a warm inner glow akin to a kind of visible radiation!

Also, as an unrepentant lover of puns, it gives me a daily opportunity to smile at a product name that is ridiculously corny but - in a frightfully British Carry-On-to-the-End-of-the-Pier kind way - mildly amusing...


Someone else who has been taking precautions against the cold is my friend Buttons...

Pictures on buttons' blog last winter of him playing in the snow raised concerns for his welfare among several readers.


Regular correspondent, GILL, wrote:

Where are Buttons' gloves and scarf? And wellies? He must have been a very wet, cold rabbit. I shall knit him a scarf immediately!

Gill (President of the Keep A Rabbit Dry Society)

To which Buttons replied:

thank you for your concern, gill, i think i need to join your society as brian and david can be very thoughtless at times... meanwhile, i shall look forward to my scarf; will it be in the society's colours and have a badge on it like harry potters?

And Gill responded:

Please tell Buttons it will certainly be in the Society's colours and have a badge!
Then, a few weeks ago, a surprise package arrived...


To see Buttons in his new winter warmer, visit buttons' blog: a rabbit's ramblings.

Tuesday, 6 November 2007

AUTUMN IN AMSTERDAM


In Amsterdam the water is the mistress and the land the vassal. Throughout the city there are as many canals and drawbridges as bracelets on a Gypsy's bronzed arms.

- Felix Marti-Ibanez


Amsterdam is an embracingly friendly city: its tall, elegant, narrow houses could easily choose to look grand and austere but, instead, they lean very slightly forward in a quizzically humorous way and peer with many-windowed eyes across the canals at similarly attractive houses or, below, at the passerby on foot, bike and boat.


With autumn, the leaves on the trees along the canal banks are now turning yellow-gold, adding splashes of radiant light in defiance of occasional grey skies...



Travelling on the canals, you pass not only beneath the inquisitive gaze of those towering houses but also alongside the houseboats which line almost every meter of the waterways...


Here a child on a houseboat feeds a pair of swans, while his sister sits reading the diary of one of Amsterdam's iconic figures - Anne Frank...


And, finally, here's another, earlier, shot of that golden sunset I posted the other day - less dramatic, I admit, but more idyllic; perhaps, more Amsterdam...


Images: © Brian Sibley & David Weeks, 2007

Thursday, 25 October 2007

AFTER THE FALL

Today's Guest Blogger is NICK CLARK (aka Boll Weavil) whose post was prompted by yesterday's autumnal thoughts...

Funny isn't it, that we enjoy the beauty of the Earth in summer and then celebrate the death of those very things we admired so much in their prime!

Cue: a poem of mine -
Traitors - from about ten years ago...

Traitor!
You who laughed and sang
Like running streams
Through whole valleys of long-day dreams,
Whilst clear, still skies overhead
Glittered and gleamed.

You love the golden-death throes
Of this same Earth
As she lies beneath the damp smoke,
That sweeping sheet of mist
From hidden heights
That swirls and jokes
From well-remembered hills
Over all our fripperies and frills.

Stoke up the fire!
Bar the door!
And remember in patterns
Of yellow flame
What lies beyond the clammy dripping woodland,
For what was once
Will soon refrain.


Poem © Nick Clark 2007; Images © Brian Sibley 2007

Wednesday, 24 October 2007

OCTOBER COUNTRY

One of the most enticing opening passages of any novel in the library is that with which RAY BRADBURY begins his classic, Something Wicked This Way Comes...
First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys. Not that all months aren't rare. But there be good and bad, as the pirates say. Take September, a bad month: school begins. Consider August, a good month: school hasn't begun yet. July, well, July's really fine: there's no chance in the world for school. June, no doubting it, June's best of all, for the school doors spring wide and September's a billion years away.

But you take October, now. School's been on a month and you're riding easier in the reins, jogging along. You got time to think of the garbage you'll dump on old man Prickett's porch, or the hairy ape costume you'll wear to the YMCA on the last night of the month. And if it's around October twentieth and everything smoky-smelling and the sky orange and ash gray at twilight, it seems Halloween will never come in a fall of broomsticks and a soft flap of bedsheets around corners...

And here are some more words and pictures in praise of the season of autumn and, in particular, this rare month that has already amost blown away with the fallen leaves...

Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.

- Carol Bishop Hipps

There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October.

- Nathaniel Hawthorne

You ought to know that October is the first Spring month.

- Karel Capek


Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

- George Eliot


It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.

- P D James


Images: © Brian Sibley, 2007

Saturday, 13 October 2007

MERRY EASTMAS

In this week's shopping basket at The Co-operative...

For the Shopper Who Likes to Plan Ahead:

Christmas Cards and Treats

and... er...

HOT CROSS BUNS...?

Sunday, 8 April 2007

EASTER DAWN


For I remember it is Easter morn,

And life and love and peace are all new born.


- Alice Freeman Palmer



[Image: © Brian Sibley, 2007]

Monday, 16 October 2006

TIME FOR SOME MELLOW FRUITFULNESS

It’s official and it's in the papers, so there's no denying it... We in the UK have, apparently, just enjoyed the longest, hottest summer EVER! Well, at least since 1659, although David, not unreasoanbly, questions how good their thermometers were then - or, indeed, their eyesight...

Anyway, the phenomenal summer must, surely, now be as good as over because - despite the newspaper pictures of people sunbathing in Kew Gardens - down river at Kennington there's every indication that autumn is most certainly a-comin’ in…

The Horse-chestnut trees are throwing down their conkers: their knobbled shells bursting open and spilling out their fruit - briefly gleaming with an oily, chocolate-mahogany sheen all too soon dulled by the scars of conker-fights*…


The leaves, too, are beginning to turn and fall - their summer greenness draining to yellow, or spotted with palsied brown, or burnt with scarlet and indigo flames…


Meanwhile, as the autumnal-coloured crops are harvested - pumpkin, marrow, beetroot - full of the earthy fatness of the fast-fading summer, there is already a damp, musty smell hanging in the air: the sleepy scent of death and decay that heralds days of mist, frost and snow, when naked tree branches will claw and scratch at leaden skies…


* For those dwelling in other territories to whom 'conker' is an unfamilar word, all that you could want or need to know - indeed, possibly more - will be found here on Wikipedia; after reading which, if you think you might want to challenge my 'sixer' then name your date and state the stakes!

For a further hint of autumn, see my blog, Window Gazing.

***

And whilst I'm rattling on about the onset of autumn, David Weeks is already ahead of us all and - with a little help from Lambeth Council - is already blogging about a seasonal holiday to come!