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Conversations with Dog Nature

Conversations with Dog

Today is the first day I’ve remembered to go out consciously with the @natureasnurture Nature Connection Challenge in mind. Some thoughts…

I take the dog – well, carry him – to the park, as he’s too old and lame to manage it on his own. Billie Holiday is playing from the flats as we cross the road to the entrance. It’s sunny but with a reduced pallet, as if over-exposed. The colours are washed out now. A cool breeze dances around near the big old trees by the road, which sway with a sound like a gentle sea. 

The old thorn tree that my kids used to play on – it was a pirate ship and the branches also doubled up as the goalposts for spontaneous football matches – is now little more than a lump of crumbling dry rotten mulch. I start to reminisce about time going by too fast but the dog stops me. He sometimes talks to me (in an irascible Prince Philip type voice) and says I have to try to live more in the present. Stop being so sentimental. I move my hand over the soft wood.

It has a dusty wine smell reminiscent of LPs bought in dark indie record shops, perhaps on visits to Glasgow or Edinburgh back in the early 80s (something like The Fire Engines’ Lubricate Your Living Room, say) – a particular piece of wood that I break off and put in my pocket looks like a flaky Lego cube of dried mushroom and smells of my dad’s old Benny Goodman EPs that he kept in the lift up compartment of the old wooden radiogram. 

“Stop going backwards,” says the dog. “We are in the fucking park. Live for NOW.”

The dirt is pale grey, the leaves have little colour. Or is it my eyes? I hear traffic and  kids shouting, kicking around a plastic bottle filled with water. There are oak leaves on the floor, some with acorns attached. The ground feels hard, dry, flaking away. On the way home, carrying the dog once more, I meet a very pissed couple coming the other way. They start talking to me… about the dog.
“See,” says the dog. “I am right here, in the moment”.

I feel that cool breeze again and notice the old woman on our road has cut back her Jasmine bush.

Categories
Nature Pub reviews Walking

A post-pub nature ramble

I’ve been to the pub. There are leaves everywhere. Autumn on three pints of beer is amazing.

The legendary wall on the other side of the road from the Sylvanian Family shop. We have a Sylvanian narrow boat with the rabbit family on it… plus some Airfix soldiers and some Happy Meal toys.

Hard to believe I used to work for Amateur Photographer…

It’s one in the morning and I’ve had some supper (left overs fry up) and have just written a song in my head about Trump and climate change – A, Am thingy, D7, D the other one… our out of tune piano is calling me but I’m a bit worried I might wake up the whole street once I get going on the ‘Hey Jude’ style “wanker” chorus. Maybe bed and a dream think is a better approach…

Categories
Nature Walking My Neighbour's Dog

Walking My Neighbour’s Dog

A few weeks ago I started walking my neighbour’s dog. The neighbour is ill and can’t do the long walks at the moment. For a while the neighbour was in hospital and the dog lived with us. The kids were excited, especially the boys. They loved the cuddles, the face licking and the hairs all over the place. Now my neighbour is back home and so my neighbour’s dog is back home too. Every day I aim to do one big park walk with him.

Part of me resents this intrusion on my personal time. Life is busy enough as it is and that Totally Uncommercial Great Lincolnshire Graphic Novel won’t write itself. But there is something about my neighbour’s dog… he is happy and he spreads happiness. Maybe all dogs are like this, I’ve just never noticed. Plus time seems to slow down when I’m with my neighbour’s dog. I have started truly noticing things again in the park, something I haven’t done since I used to walk small children (very slowly) around here.

Today I sat on the slopes in the middle of the park and threw a saliva covered tennis ball repeatedly for my neighbour’s dog to chase and bring back. My neighbour’s dog will do this all day if I let him. If I would play ball. But I do have other commitments, I say to my neighbour’s dog – but he doesn’t listen. I counted 100 throws one time recently, then got bored with counting and just concentrated on the basics – ball, saliva, throw.

My neighbour’s dog urinated 30 times today and did a massive shit. I successfully managed not to get dog shit on my hands as I was clearing it up. I’m learning. I am the pupil. My neighbour’s dog is the teacher.

Categories
Nature

Cuckoo

It’s the last day of January. A high pitched, instantly recognisable call comes from down in the vale amongst the trees. Possibly it’s one of those new Samsung Galaxy phones, though I doubt it. It can’t be a cuckoo, can it? Surely it’s too early by about four months. It’s a sound that brings back memories of long early summers of childhood, of greenery and big skies. I consult one of my many gardening books and it looks like it might be a wood pigeon pretending to be a cuckoo.

Why would a wood pigeon do that?

Categories
Nature Staring at the sky

My Favourite Tree

A work in progress – video based on one fo the entries in A London Country Diary.

Categories
Gardening Nature Plants I Don't Know the Name Of

Plants I Don’t Know the Name Of: Some Herb Seeds I Scattered Around The Place

A few years ago I read a book about medieval herbalism and, as I am wont to do, afterwards decided to make it a part of my life. I could be a herbalist! So I sent off for a load of seeds from a specialist shop and when they came, rather than sticking them in a drawer like I usually do, I scattered them all over the garden. All kinds of different seeds. Over the years various plants have come and gone but one seems to thrive but I don’t know what it is. It’s either Crimson Parsley, Herb Robert or Feverfew. Or a mixture of all three. The problem I have now is that, whereas Parsley is good for cooking, and Herb Robert is OK, Feverfew is, I think, poisonous. This is complicated further by the fact that there is no such thing as Crimson Parsley.

            I’ve got be honest. I would be a really shit herbalist. Herbseeds

 

Categories
1 Mile from Home Nature

The Seagulls

I’m woken from a dream by the sound of birds. It’s a multi-levelled effect, with blackbirds and starlings in the background, the odd heron (or is a goose?) flying around aimlessly but by far the most dominant noise is seagulls. It could be thousands of seagulls. Or maybe just four or five – they’re extrovert birds, after all. I’m being kind – they’re fucking annoying and very loud. I drift in and out of sleep for a while, washing back to holidays on the pebbled beaches of South Devon in the early 1970s, the sea pulling against the stones and the seagulls overhead. I try to imagine the sound of traffic is like the sea. Then I remember that film with Rock Hudson or was it Cary Grant where he’s blindfold and thinks he’s at a party but it’s just the sounds of birds at a lake.

Not too far away from here there were filter beds for Thames Water which were developed into a housing estate in the late 1990s. No-one has told the birds that. As far as they are concerned is is still an unofficial nature reserve.

Seagulls

 

Categories
Irish country diary Mystic stuff Nature Walking

Cheese sandwiches in the fairy fields

Coast1  A walk down to the
fairy fields at the end of the Cahermacrusheen boreen where we have a grand
picnic of cheese sandwiches and Tayto crisps and a flask of tea. The sea is
still and the Aran Isles look very close. Most of the land around North Doolin is
parched and the grass dry and brownish as if this was August rather than early
April. But here, on the way to the rocks at the edge of the Burren, the turf is
thick and wet like black gold and little patches of intense green burst out
from beneath the stones.

The kids do a cow
attracting dance that achieves its objective, expect these are bullocks not
cows. On the way back we see a thorn tree decorated with ribbons, materials,
toys, holy water and candles. Next to this is the dry stone wall part of which is
made up of massive horizontal stones, which I have a feeling had once been the lost
Cahermacrusheen dolmen.

Categories
1 Mile from Home Art Clissold Park Nature

The Liquorice Tree

Between two smallish trees in Clissold Park there is a long length of red twine that somebody (conceptual nature artist or mischievous kitten with a ball of wool) has wrapped round and round many times. It's saying "we are connected in ways that we don't fully understand". It's also saying "imagine a world where red licorice grows from the trees. Yum!" It might also be an advert for the wool shop on Blackstock Road. Or perhaps it's saying "look how fragile is mortality" or "look how fragile is the Arsenal back four when a ball is played over the top".

Categories
1 Mile from Home Local news Nature

Dirty foxes

Shoe
Walking home along Riversdale Road I see the tall Irish bloke who’s always cleaning and painting his front yard. He’s standing in the road looking forlorn. As I get closer I can see rubbish – papers, bags, crap, clothers – strewn all over the place.
“How are you?” I say.
“Foxes.” he replies. “They can smell the dogshit. What a mess.”
I decide to help him clear up the rubbish. It’s in front of his house and he’s very proud of his place, I know. As if reading my mind he says “I like tidiness. I hate mess like this.”
I find a brown shoe. “It was a stylish one legged fox,” I say. He laughs. I find a copy of Marie Claire. “It was a stylish one legged fox who is into fashion and make up tips.” He laughs again.
I see him later in the day and he waves. He is once more cleaning his front yard.